Lex Luthor strolled into the anteroom of the LuthorCorp auditorium to prepare for the press conference. His meetings over the weekend with Dr. Tsao about Project Achilles have left him in an unusually good mood; for once his employees have been demonstrating the competence for which he pays so well.
His personal assistant, Miss Hammersmith, was waiting for him. “Mr. Luthor, about the conference...”
“Thank you for working overtime this weekend; I appreciate that you know how important this presentation is for the company.” Luthor strolled past her out to the stage, failing to notice the distraught look on her face.
Arriving at the lectern, he turned for the first time to the gathered press corps seated before him. That is, the vestige of a gathered press corps seated before him. He instantly dismissed the possibility that he is early; he has never been more than ten seconds early or late to an appointment since the sixth grade, and he was only seven years old then. Clearly, the press release had the right time, or nobody would have shown up.
Or has nobody shown up? The only person he can see in the seats is a young oriental woman in the first row. Surely, she is too young to be a reporter of any importance. Still, she appears to be eagerly awaiting the start of the conference. He has heard that these oriental kids are sharp; she must have sensed the importance of this discovery. The fact that nobody else is here is mute testimony of the sorry state of American education.
He glances at his watch (a mere formality), and clears his throat. “Welcome to LuthorCorp, and thank you for coming. As I am sure you know, I am Lex Luthor, the founder and CEO of LuthorCorp. The technical background of today’s announcement is in your press packets; I assume that you all have received them?” He had decided to address the young woman in the plural, in case anyone is sitting in the dark rows in the back. This lighting may be good theater, but under the circumstances it is annoying.
The press conference begins...
His personal assistant, Miss Hammersmith, was waiting for him. “Mr. Luthor, about the conference...”
“Thank you for working overtime this weekend; I appreciate that you know how important this presentation is for the company.” Luthor strolled past her out to the stage, failing to notice the distraught look on her face.
Arriving at the lectern, he turned for the first time to the gathered press corps seated before him. That is, the vestige of a gathered press corps seated before him. He instantly dismissed the possibility that he is early; he has never been more than ten seconds early or late to an appointment since the sixth grade, and he was only seven years old then. Clearly, the press release had the right time, or nobody would have shown up.
Or has nobody shown up? The only person he can see in the seats is a young oriental woman in the first row. Surely, she is too young to be a reporter of any importance. Still, she appears to be eagerly awaiting the start of the conference. He has heard that these oriental kids are sharp; she must have sensed the importance of this discovery. The fact that nobody else is here is mute testimony of the sorry state of American education.
He glances at his watch (a mere formality), and clears his throat. “Welcome to LuthorCorp, and thank you for coming. As I am sure you know, I am Lex Luthor, the founder and CEO of LuthorCorp. The technical background of today’s announcement is in your press packets; I assume that you all have received them?” He had decided to address the young woman in the plural, in case anyone is sitting in the dark rows in the back. This lighting may be good theater, but under the circumstances it is annoying.