The Fortress of Solitude is a lot like your grandparents’ basement, except with secret IDs casually revealed around every corner
According to this Wayne Boring centerfold from yesterday’s Superman book, the big guy is a little bit nuts when it comes to life-size dioramas. I’m reminded of helping clean out my grandparents’ house after they both had died, and feeling bad about throwing out some of Gramp’s old basement den tchotchkes. (There was a giant portrait of a deer that was particularly large and acutely useless.) And thanks to this illustrated tour, I’m picturing Superman’s future offspring rummaging through his crap, exhibit after exhibit, mannequin after mannequin, deciding what to junk, mumbling “What was the old man thinking? Jeebus…” all the while.
Also, yeah, Batman has always struck me as the type to totally not mind someone revealing his secret identity in a dopey museum. Granted, the Fortress of Solitude seems like a secure facility — after all, it’s a fortress — but it’s been penetrated on multiple occasions. Would Batman come over to his World’s Finest pal’s pad, maybe to borrow power tools or something, and be stunned to see this stuff? Um, Kal? Isn’t all this the sign of a very lonely, very disturbed man? Or are these rooms nothing more than the super equivalent of family photos?
Speaking of Batman, every one of these exhibits is trumped by the giant penny.