homologate
[huh-mol-uh-geyt, hoh-]
verb (used with object)
to approve; confirm or ratify.
to register (a specific make of automobile in general production) so as to make it eligible for international racing competition.
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“Next!” called the woman behind the counter. She spoke in a thick Boston accent and had the look of someone who had stopped caring about social niceties twenty years ago.
A young man wearing a colorful costume strode proudly to the counter. He cut a heroic figure and clearly knew it. He opened his mouth to speak, but the woman spoke faster.
“Name and powers?”
“I am Captain—“
“Your real name.” She said, cutting him off. Suddenly, the man looked much less assured of himself. He looked around nervously at the people behind him in the line. The woman let out a heavy sigh. “Nobody here gives a damn. Your real name.”
The large man leaned in close and spoke quietly. “Edward Smith.” He leaned back and spoke proudly again. “And I possess tremendous might, the ability to soar the skies and—“
“Rejected. Next!”
“What?
But I—“
“I said rejected.”
“But—“
The woman’s glare was more
potent than any weapon known to man. The large man withered and left without
another word.
“Next!” She called.
The next man in line stepped forward. He wore a much more normal outfit of jeans and a T-shirt and seemed like a fairly normal person by most metrics. He eyed the rejected superhero hopeful curiously. He had been in line long enough to see many others just like him.
“Name and powers?”
“Uh, Troy Celmont. I can generate and control energy barriers. I can give them some different properties, but that’s hard to do.”
The woman typed furiously on the small computer in front of her. She muttered to herself for a moment.
“Maximum range of effect?”
“Right now? 50 feet, but I can only generate them about 5 feet away from myself.”
More typing. “Speed of travel?”
“I don’t know the exact numbers, but I can get them moving about highway speeds. A little more if I’m really pushing it.”
Another series of typing. “Approved pending further testing. Please proceed to the door marked Applicant Testing for further instructions.”
Troy blinked a few times. “So does that mean I’m in?”
“No. It means you get to the next round. You’ll get approved or rejected there.”
“Oh. Okay then. Uh, can I ask why you rejected the last guy? He seemed to fit the hero bill.”
“We don’t need anyone with his powers right now. Chump’s got the most common powers in the world and thinks he’s special. You got something a little more in need, so you get the approval. Now get outta here. You’re holding up the line.”
“Oh, right. Sorry.” Troy said. He started heading to the door the woman had indicated.
As he did, he glanced behind him. There were a lot of people in line still. And a lot of them looked remarkably similar to the man who had gotten rejected. He gave them a quick, silent wish for luck and headed off. He had barely taken five steps when he heard the call of the woman behind the counter.
“Next!”
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