The pediatrician is in on it. He's known the Kents his whole life. They're wary and scared the first time he sees them, but then Martha pulls out a sewing needle, says, "Watch this." And pushes it against Clark's bicep. It snaps in half. Clark giggles.
"We're trusting you here, Mickey," says John. He's one of the few people who still calls him Mickey. He's Dr. Michael to the kids. Michael to their parents. But he and John used to chase fireflies and hunt lizards together. The first time John asked Martha on a date, he invited Mickey along, too. Mickey didn't get an invite the next week.
"It could be a serious condition," Mickey says. "There are rare conditions--"
"We found him in our east field in a spaceship," Martha says, cutting to the heart like she always has. She's still the kindest person Mickey's ever known. And if she's cutting to the heart of it, it's desperately serious or anger-inducing. "It's buried next to the barn."
"I'll show it to you," John adds, "But I swear to you, Mickey, I swear on my marriage, on my farm, I swear we're sure he's just fine."
Mickey thinks it over. He takes out an empty syringe. "All over is it?"
Mickey finds the softest part of Clark's leg. He presses the needle against it. It snaps off. Clark giggles again. "Anything else I should know?"
"He can lift the tractor," John says. "Like it's nothing."
Mickey nods slowly. "Okay," he says. He taps the empty syringe against his hand. "Okay. I'm going to order the usual vaccines he should have. Can you make him screech a little? I can tell the nurse I think it's better if I do the shots myself since he's nervous."
John nods. Martha says, "Bless you to pieces."
John leans over and whispers to Clark, "Clark, can you show Dr. Michael the sound a hawk makes?"
Clark screeches. Perfectly ear-shattering and sounding exactly like any number of scared toddlers that come into the practice on the regular.
Mickey punctures all the vaccines with syringes. Draws the medicine in, then pushes the plunger so the syringe empties into the sink.
"I hate to waste medicine," Martha says. "I'm sure there's a baby in town who needs it."
"Your baby needs it," Mickey replies, tossing all the syringes and vaccine bottles into the Sharps container. "I want to test him every time. If his skin gets permeable at some point, I want him as vaccinated as his records look."
"How will you cover that?" John asks.
"Let me worry about that," Mickey says. "We may never have to figure it out."
Years and years later, Mickey watches Superman fly across the Metropolis sky on the news, then watches Clark Kent land outside his parents' house for dinner. They never did have to figure it out.
