Spiderman 1 by Peter David Read Free Book Online Page B

what killed heroism, Norman?"
    "No, but I suspect you're going to tell me," Osborn said

    dryly.
    "This whole Internet thing. With people having no respect for copyrights because they're busy stealing entire printed works off downloads, or going around ranting and raving at each other, striking from hiding behind names like 'Fuzzydice' or 'The Destroyer' or 'Bobl123' or similar non sense." Jonah was waving his cigar around, ashes flying all over. One of the attendants, long used to Jameson when he went off on a rant, was busily sweeping the ash into a dustbin. "How much impact do you think the Declaration would have had, Norman, if it had been filled with signatures like 'Deathscream' or 'Hoppybunny27'?"
    "Not very much," Osborn allowed. "But to be fair, Jonah ... why should anyone want to be a hero, in this day and age fostered by your own media. Whenever someone does something heroic, the newspapers grab ahold of him and dig and dig until they find some sort of dirt, and then splash it all over the front pages. Why should anyone want to make themselves such a target?"
    "If you're a hero, you don't think about what might happen if you take a risk. You just do what needs to be done," Jonah retorted. "I've tried to live my life as scrupulously as possible, Norman. You can't go around bringing down cor ruption if your own hands aren't clean. People want to in vestigate me, let 'em. I have nothing to hide. But do people follow my example? They do not. No heroes anymore, as I said. Don't blame the messenger for the message."
    Osborn kept telling himself that he shouldn't be baiting Jonah this way, but he was apprehensive enough about the meeting he had to get to, and the old windbag was starting to grate on him. "So what is the message you're getting out there that you shouldn't be blamed for? That nobody's good enough to withstand public scrutiny, no matter how well-meaning their actions may seem."
    "Exactly," Jonah said with an emphatic wave of his cigar, sending more ashes tumbling. A couple danced on the lapels of Osborn's jacket, and he brushed them away. Jonah didn't seem to notice. "That's exactly it."
    "Funny," said Osborn, scratching his chin thoughtfully as he rose from his chair. "I seem to remember a man who lived about two thousand years ago who had a touch of the heroic about him. A lot of people looked up to him. A lot of people didn't. So tell me, Jonah ... if a man of that caliber of hero ism showed up today, would you be listening and learning from him? Or would you be first in line to crucify him?"
    A number of men had been listening to the exchange, and
    there was a collective guffaw when Osborn said that. Jame son fired looks around, and the laughter was quickly silenced as they went back to their own newspapers.
    "That's not funny, Norman," Jameson said quietly.
    "No. It's not." He patted Jameson on the shoulder. "Jonah, I hope—for your sake—you get your hero, and you get your story, and you get your circulation numbers back up. God knows we still need newspapers and heroes ... and you need someone to tear down."
    "Or build up," he added quickly.
    "That's up to you, isn't it?"
    And as he walked out of the men's club, Jonah called after him, "Mark my words, Osborn: The closest we come to heroes these days is some schmuck with bad timing who falls into it by accident!"
    "Jonah," Osborn called over his shoulder, "I think you may just have defined 'hero' for the ages."

    III.
    THE ACCIDENT

    It was the smallest of the small. It tended to stay away from the others, daunted by the disparity in size. While the others moved in leisurely groups, clumps of mandibles and black furred abdomens, the smallest — the runt — kept to itself. Food was plentiful, and the larger ones got most of it, simply because they were bigger and didn't hesitate to hog it. The smallest of the small got the leftovers. As a result, in addition to its diminutive stature, it had a lean and hungry look about it.
    So while all the others