The Soteriologist

How are you going to choose?
How does the only being on the planet with super powers decide who to save?
You might think the answer is easy.
“Whoever needs saving.”
Is the simple reply.
But it is never that easy.
You are strong, yes.
Far far stronger than any of them.
Strong enough to perhaps even catch the moon if you needed to.
And you are fast of course.
Perhaps with a top speed of one percent of the speed of light.
Resistance to harm and damage.
Certainly.
You can easily withstand having a building dropped on you.
And you can fly.
What self-respecting super being cannot fly?
Finally, in our non-exhaustive litany of expected superiority is a lifespan that could see you reach your fourth or fifth millennium.
A range of abilities that make you the only super powered person on earth.
Our natural saviour.
So you would think, with all your gifts that this would be a simple riddle to solve.
But balancing salvation’s equation is more difficult and complicated than that.
While you are not mortal in the conventional sense, you are also not immortal.
Being able to catch the moon is of no use if you cannot put it back.
Imagine the effect on the tides just to start with.
Having bullets and knives and other conventional weapons not even scratch you does not help if you are vapourised at ground zero of a thermonuclear blast.
Fast is good.
But not when your speed would cause them to disintegrate in your embrace.
And while one percent of light speed sounds good, it is not that fast in cosmic scales.
A trip to the moon, just over two minutes.
Mars, approximately twenty-two hours (on average).
And in that time, should you need to go to those places, who back on earth are you rescuing?
Is the time spent in the vacuum of space worth the price to save a few astronauts (who knew the risks) when they will likely have another equally distracting crisis later?
You are not limitless.
(Which would also be a terrible name).
Lastly, while you may be harder than steel, you are still flesh.
Your body requires sustenance and rest.
Significantly more of the former, less of the latter than them, yes.
But even a demigod needs their sleep.
In that hour of unconsciousness, what fate is befalling some unfortunate?
Do you see them in your dreams, or is your slumber empty?
And that is just the physical side.
What of the ethics of salvation?
Is the child worth more than the pensioner?
What if you save the next Hitler.
Instead of the war hero senior citizen?
Or fail to save the next Einstein.
In favour of an Epstein?
What is the saint to sinner ratio for the human race.
And are you the one to balance it?
Can you also be certain that your presence is a neutral force.
In your time you have a creeping awareness that people seem to be taking more and greater risks.
Jeopardy tourists.
You have increased the likelihood of being saved from certain death.
You are a personal safety net for everyone.
That’s a lot of falling bodies to catch.
If there is no god to steer avalanches, or to lift a continental plate.
Which do you select to stop.
And choose correctly every time?
Stopping slaughter is easy when you are bulletproof.
But stopping the causes of that slaughter, not so much.
Brokering deals.
Negotiating with factions.
That was not in your job description when you put on the cape and mask.
Easier to bend tanks than wills.
Of course you could force them.
Compel them to enact your bidding.
After all, which of them could stand up to you?
A benign dictator for fifty generations.
It would ensure their safety.
But not their souls.
So if not your rule, then perhaps retirement?
After all how many can you, do you save each day?
Not all of them for sure.
Eight billion places where you may be needed.
At best you rescue a statistically negligible amount of them.
The fraction hardly seems worth the effort.
And the ones that you fail.
The ones that still fall.
How do you tell the grieving families, the partners, the loved ones.
That you decided not to opt for them.
But instead chose someone else.
Your value judgement told you they were not worth it.
When all they had left was hope.
You would not forsake them after all.
But you did.
You had to.
Soon enough there will be more grieving than celebrating.
Eventually the world will turn against you as your unintentional body count racks up.
How will you be able to tell them that you are not divine.
When they are ephemeral in comparison.
Mere mayflies.
You operate on a plane so far removed from them.
They will never understand the choices you are required to make on their behalf.
So, how are you going to choose?