I remember a time not so long ago, before heroism was something that everyone tried their hand at, when heroes were respected, renowned, some even worshipped. Back then, being a hero was a difficult life - one was usually forced into it in some way or another - and while ordinary people didn't always appreciate the fact, it had a certain dignity to it. When you were saved by a hero, you knew who they were and you damn well remembered them for the rest of your life. There were never any question of being in it for personal gain, it was a duty that you were happy to fulfil.
These days...every Tom, Dick or Harry with a novel party trick thinks they're a hero. You can't move around Atlas Park square for the number of new 'heroes' queuing up to register themselves - most of them don't even last a week before they vanish, never to be seen again. Most just underestimate how hard the work is; they only see the fame and glamour and not the grind and the sacrifice. Now that being saved by a hero is so commonplace, people have become complacent - after all, what's the point in going to the effort of looking after yourself when someone else can do it for you? They never remember who saved them from one day to the next; it's just expected now that someone will do it. Even the papers have stopped reporting all but the most significant of hero activities on the front pages - you know something is wrong when the Sundays come with a Hero supplement summarising what's been going on in the world of super powers that week.
Maybe I'm just old. A tired hero who long ago reached the supposed pinnacle of Security Level 50 and realised that it really didn't mean that much in the grand scheme of things. Regardless, nobody sees heroes as anything special any more - most won't even bother to thank me if I save them from certain death, let alone something 'minor' like a mugging. Whatever happened to a bit of gratitude?
I remember a time not so long ago, before heroism was something that everyone tried their hand at, when heroes were respected, renowned, some even worshipped. Back then, being a hero was a difficult life - one was usually forced into it in some way or another - and while ordinary people didn't always appreciate the fact, it had a certain dignity to it. When you were saved by a hero, you knew who they were and you damn well remembered them for the rest of your life. There were never any question of being in it for personal gain, it was a duty that you were happy to fulfil.
These days...every Tom, Dick or Harry with a novel party trick thinks they're a hero. You can't move around Atlas Park square for the number of new 'heroes' queuing up to register themselves - most of them don't even last a week before they vanish, never to be seen again. Most just underestimate how hard the work is; they only see the fame and glamour and not the grind and the sacrifice. Now that being saved by a hero is so commonplace, people have become complacent - after all, what's the point in going to the effort of looking after yourself when someone else can do it for you? They never remember who saved them from one day to the next; it's just expected now that someone will do it. Even the papers have stopped reporting all but the most significant of hero activities on the front pages - you know something is wrong when the Sundays come with a Hero supplement summarising what's been going on in the world of super powers that week.
Maybe I'm just old. A tired hero who long ago reached the supposed pinnacle of Security Level 50 and realised that it really didn't mean that much in the grand scheme of things. Regardless, nobody sees heroes as anything special any more - most won't even bother to thank me if I save them from certain death, let alone something 'minor' like a mugging. Whatever happened to a bit of gratitude?
Omnes relinquite spes, o vos intrantes
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