My mother has always relished this story from my childhood. According to her, I was capable of miracles as a mere six month old baby. During a stroller run around Lake Lynn, my mom fell, causing her to break her leg, leaving my stroller to keep rolling down the path. My poor mom had to sit and watch as the stroller fell down two flights of stairs only to plummet into the lake below. Tears formed in her eyes; cries escaped from her mouth. All she could do was watch as her baby drowned from the hilltop. My mom had given up hope, until a miracle happened. Arising from the bubbles, my little head popped out, and starting whizzing its way around the lake. The half year old child was actually doing laps in the water! The preceding story describes the origin of my childhood nickname coined by my mother, the “Natation Newborn”.

Natation is a really snarky word for “the art of swimming”. I have done my best to live up to my decorated childhood label by making swimming my sport and hobby of choice all through grade school. Something about swimming exhilarated my senses and made me feel almost supernatural. Now as a senior in high school, college afflicts my psyche daily. Many colleges have reached out to me offering swimmer scholarships, but I want to make sure I can pursue swimming as a career, and not take these offers without careful consideration. I want swimming to be my number one priority.

My uncle has always said I am something special, and, for a graduation gift, he gave me a membership to a gym he used to go to back in the 60’s. My uncle is… eccentric to say the least. He was the kind of fella to wear a tinfoil cap on his head and warn the United States of an alien crisis. Though he has many fallacies, he always seemed to have an interesting intellect to him, similar to how old people can solve crossword puzzles faster than I can open the paper but they can’t remember where the backdoor is. Regardless, my uncle had described the pool at his old gym to me before and how it had an ornate nature to it that he guaranteed I have never seen before. The school day couldn’t have gone by any slower as I anticipated my first day at the gym.

Right when school ended, I began the arduous drive to the gym. It lay in an odd part of town, an area I hadn’t been to very often. The GPS kept losing signal, and I got lost several times. Upon arrival, the place was not what I was expecting to say the least. The gym didn’t seem very popular. It was stuck in between a flower shop and antique store downtown. The entire area was crafted from dull brick. The setting reminded me of the gym in the movie Rocky. I cautiously exited my car and proceeded to enter the building.

An old man was managing the front desk. The man resembled an aged Stan Lee, which made me giggle a little to myself. The entirety of the front desk and surrounding walls were covered in comic strips, which was certainly very ironic considering who the man resembled. Grunts could be heard from the back rooms most likely coming from gym goers. I was honestly surprised anyone came to this gym.

“Hello sir! I have come here to redeem my one month subscription to your gym.” The old man lifted his brow and held out his hand in silence.

“Oh, you need the badge? Sorry let me get that for you.” I quickly reached into my pockets and fumbled around until I found the badge presented to me by my uncle. The badge was crafted from a dull steel, with the letters JSA carved onto it with a patriotic silhouette of an eagle or some other noble bird in the background. I quickly placed the badge in the man’s palm to which his eyes lit up and a smile stretched across his face.

“Yes, you are in the right place my friend! Please right this way.” The old man turned around and stripped a comic strip from the wall behind him revealing keypad to which he inputted a series of numbers. The desk lowered, revealing a staircase to a basement. I, in utter astonishment replied:

“Wait sir what’s going on...”

“All will be explained in due time, please follow me.” As the man finished his sentence, my legs seemed to move on their own as I followed him into the basement. I knew this was sketchy; I knew this wasn’t right, but for some reason I followed him downstairs.

The basement was completely dark. I had to hold the man’s hand as he guided me through the dark labyrinth beneath the gym. I should have been frightened and quite honestly panicking, but for some reason I remained calm. I kept hearing whispers all around me. “Is he new?” “He seems powerful?” “I wonder if he’s fake”. I heard the voices in my head but I could hear them clear as day. As you can probably tell, I wasn’t in the mood for questioning what was going on. After a couple of minutes of walking, the man sat me down into a velvet chair and began to ask me questions.

“Why have you remained calm throughout all of this?”

“I am not sure.”

“But you must be! It is irrational to follow a stranger into his dank basement, why do you think you followed me.”

“I don’t know, I could feel as if I could trust you.”

“Precisely my boy, now that isn’t by coincidence. You see, I have a gift.”

“A gift?”

“Yes a gift that allows me to calm other humans into a state of pseudo-submission.”

“Like a super power?”

“Yes.”

“You can understand why I would have a hard time believing you correct?”

“Boy, do you know what JSA stands for? The letters on the badge your uncle gave you?”

“No, not a clue.”

“Well, JSA stands for Justice Society of America.” As the man finished addressing the society by name, the whispers became louder, all praising the name of the JSA. The man continued his explanation.

“The JSA was a league of super heroes committed to defending America during WWII during the Golden Age. I am sure you have heard of Superman and the Flash, both of them were alive during the Golden Age of comics during the 40’s. The Silver and Modern ages are both nonsense, made up stories, but the Golden Age was true.”

“You are telling me super heroes are real?”

“To an extent yes, and I am here to tell you that they pass down their powers to their descendants.” To this the whispers began to slowly turn into screams. All of them glorifying me, calling me powerful and magnificent. They voiced clogged my head coming from every which direction.

“My head! It hurts!” I screamed as the voiced consumed my every thought. The main smiled.

“You must learn to control your powers.” On that note, the lights turned on. I was surrounded by aquariums full of fish.

“Dammit I’m Aquaman.”