[ WP ] Retell the origin of a superhero , but reveal the hero at the end of the story .

`` What is your name?'' the woman asks. 
 
 I clear my throat and smile. My fingers smooth my hair. She looks up expectantly from her desk and I answer her. In turn her eyes travel my height, making note of my appearance, gleaning everything possible about me before telling me to sit. I pick up a magazine from the end table and pretend to go through its vacuous pages, estimating the number of seconds a sane human being might spend on each one before flipping to the next. 
 
 I look at my wristwatch then I look at the clock. The receptionist is scrutinizing me. She must know I do n't wear a watch normally. Why would someone wearing a timepiece also be inclined to look at a clock? To check if they were synchronized? No, she knows I am unfamiliar with this thin strap of leather, this feeble handcuff on my skin, bearing the face of mortality every time a person might just want to know whether they're going to make a train in the morning or have time to go to the bathroom before an interview. 
 
 She calls my name. As I look up like a watchdog being fed she points to the door beside her. I rise to my feet and walk across the empty lobby, straightening my suit, feeling layered but oddly naked. 
 
 `` Good luck,'' she says. 
 
 `` Thank you,'' I say, wondering if she can hear an accent. 
 
 Once I am inside, there are no outside noises. The office has been completely sound-proofed. I feel like the fish paddling about inside the large aquarium, suspended as if in space. They stare out the glass like prisoners. A large window behind the desk peers into those of the neighboring high-rise, creating an endlessly self-reflecting domino effect among the skyscrapers. 
 
 `` Come in, please, have a seat,'' says the man to whom the fish belong. 
 
 I hang a bit over the desk to shake his hand, pushing my tie back with my other hand. I just hope the firmness of my grip is more noticeable than the sweating of my palm. As I sit down he peruses my resume, hmming and ahing to himself. But then he slides it aside. 
 
 `` So where are you from?'' he asks. 
 
 For a moment darkness hangs in my mind. Then a brilliant light fills that empty space as I understand his unusual question. I tell him where I am from. He is unimpressed. However something in his demeanor changes. He grows more relaxed, as if realizing I pose no threat. His hand reaches back over his chair and he shakes his head. 
 
 `` What are you doing all the way out here?'' 
 
 Again, I ca n't tell if the questions they ask in this place are supposed to cut as deep as they seem to. 
 
 `` I'd like to be a part of the work you do. I feel like I could be of some considerable use.'' 
 
 `` This is a very fast-paced job,'' he says. `` It is very hot on the market right now and I've had about five interviews just today for this very position.'' 
 
 `` I can do fast-paced,'' I say. `` Why would I want to be anywhere but where everyone else wants to be? I just know I can do it better. I know I'm the stronger candidate.'' 
 
 `` Sure, that's what they all say,'' he says, putting his fingertips together. `` But what makes you different?'' 
 
 `` I'm not sure I'm trying to be,'' I say. `` You need someone who can see things exactly the way everyone else can, who can understand the world through the eyes of an ordinary person, so people can relate. Besides why would I want to be anything but what I am?'' 
 
 He peers at me for a moment. The next thing I know I am in the bathroom, splashing cool water against my eyelids. I almost forgot I was wearing the glasses and I keep them aside. In the fluorescently lit bathroom I stare into the mirror. I can still hear the interviewer's last words as we shook hands: 
 
 `` Welcome to the Planet.''
