Straps hold him in bed. “So you won’t wander,” the nurse says, soothingly. They must contain—what’s that mineral?—or he could snap them as easily as he used to lift locomotives.
Couldn’t he do that once? Long ago?
Screams. Smoke. “Get out, Nurse!” somebody shrieks. “Now! Let the firefighters rescue them!”
The sirens are too far away.
Flames break through the wall like a huge flower: the straps melt. Freed, he goes to rescue the other residents. Four have died: the rest he saves.
He ignores the cheering crowd, flies up, up into space. Back toward his birth world.
Author’s note: Old age is everybody’s Kryptonite.