I, Zod: The Journal of Private Zod 1-3

We all love General Zod from Superman II. Ruthless, arrogant, elegant, and awesomely powerful. But he wasn’t always a general. At some point, Zod had to be a fresh recruit, just starting out in the Kryptonian military. So here, for the first time, we can present the lost journal of those early days. We present the first entries of “I, Zod: The Journal of Private Zod.”

—–

3 Gree, 341 KC

Greetings, mortals. I am Zod, the man who will one day rule the planet Krypton. You are wise to turn to me for guidance. Tremble at the very whisper of my name. Obey me and you shall have the honor of being my humble servant. Rouse my anger and you shall face my infinite wrath. For now, I am but a lowly private in the Kryptonian army, but one day, all Kryptonians shall bow down to me. I have created this journal as a way of preserving my path to glory for future generations. One day, these pages shall be required reading for all sentient beings throughout the Universe.

I well remember the day that I came to what I consider the turning point in my life, the day when I resolved to become master of all I survey. I was operating a transport at a high rate of speed. I know transports are not permitted to fly at such swiftness, but I consider myself above such trivial restrictions. When I arrived at my destination, I stepped out of the spiky crystal sphere to find a law enforcement android awaiting me. It seems a recorder had taken a hologram of my transport. I was forced to pay a fine of five hundred crystals.

I do not think it fair that I, Zod, should be forced to pay, especially since it was a mere machine that identified me. If I had been aware of the viewer, I would have reduced my speed. If it had been an android that caught me, I might have been able to convince it to give me no more than a warning. Such impersonal enforcement of the law offends me. From that day forward, I dedicated my life to ruling the universe. My first order as ruler of Krypton shall be the elimination of viewing recorders on transport lanes.

I did not have the resources to pay the five hundred crystals. I had no choice but to acquire them from my father. He reduced my allowance in kind. This, too, shall change once Zod rules.

—

4 Gree, 341 KC

I should provide you, dear reader, with some information on who I am and whence Zod came. I once had a promising career in my family’s business of protecting people and property with a contract we called “insurance.” I was to become one of those who encouraged others to sign contracts until the course of my life took a different path.

I did not wish to enter the military, but the simpletons of the Kryptonian Senate instituted a draft. As a young man just past the Trial of Manhood, I was required by law to join the service. My father tried to divert me into flight school at the Planetary Guard or even flee to Krypton’s moon, Kannadah. Such was not to be.

Today is the day I was ordered to report for military training. As I stood at the entrance of the elongated, spiked transport to the base, my mother and father shed many tears. My mother gave me a storage container of a wuula-beast sandwich and a cookie. My father requested that I send him a personal hologram once every planetary rotation. I advised them it was useless to waste their energies on such sentimental displays. I myself felt no such qualms. Long have I known that I was destined for greatness. My perspective remains that if I am to become a soldier, then that shall be Zod’s path to glory.

I boarded the transport, but could not find an empty seat. It almost seemed as if the other soldiers in the transport shifted to prevent me from finding room. This, of course, is inconceivable. Surely, they must realize that I am their physical and intellectual superior. Despite this, I was forced to stand and almost fell over when the crystal ascended. I am writing this while the crystal is bound to its destination. I am already feeling some apprehension at my future military career.

—

5 Gree, 341 KC

I have been assigned to Base Zelta, a small outpost at the base of Mount Hydrogen. I find it quite cold and bleak, not worthy of Zod the Conquerer.

Upon my arrival at Base Zelta, I was taken to a room where they informed me that my head would be shorn. I took great pride in my hair. Much of my time was spent in perfecting my appearance, particularly the long black curls at the top. I informed the barber that he would cut my hair shortly before his death. The barber ignored my warning and advanced upon me with a cutting crystal. I attempted to break his neck with a swift blow to the throat. Unfortunately, I have no combat training, save the moves I have seen on holographic recordings. I only succeeded in striking the barber’s ear. Three other soldiers proceeded to pin me to the floor while they advanced on me with more cutting crystals. Despite my struggles, they succeeded in shearing off my hair quite roughly. My reflection in a nearby crystal later confirmed that they have shaved profanity in the sides of my head indicating that my ancestors were born under a blue sun and that I enjoy the romantic company of wild beasts. My appearance is hardly fitting of a man of destiny.

When I arrived at the barracks to line up with the other recruits, one other soldier laughed quite hard at me. He is another trainee named Jun-Ar. I dislike him. I find him impudent and rude. Unfortunately, Jun-Ar has been assigned to the top bunk. I foresee great difficulty ahead. Perhaps my military career will not be as glorious as I once believed.

 For parts 4-6, click here.

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