I should be in bed, it’s way past my bedtime.

Here I was, a seven-year-old, having the undivided attention of some of the most important people on Krypton. My mother, a Judicator; my father, the head of a department in the Science Guild; my uncle Jor-El, the head of the Science Guild; my aunt Astra, a general; my aunt Lara, a scientist; and my sort-of-uncle, Zod—also a general, though retired for now. 

Uncle Zod was intense—not scary, but intense. And now he was looking at me with that intensity. 

"So, um, our planet is gonna explode in five years, give or take," I announced, breaking the silence. 

My father muttered a disappointed sigh. "Kara, you could've eased into it." 

"What do you mean, Krypton is going to explode?" Both Aunt Astra and Uncle Zod asked at the same time. They looked at each other, then turned to the only people in the room who weren't acting surprised: my uncle, Aunt Lara, and my father. My mother remained quiet, watching to see what I would say next, but I could see the worry in her body language. 

"Kara, dear," Aunt Lara said gently, "please continue. And don't leave us hanging." 

"Okay, so," I began, "our planet's core is unstable because of two reasons. One, our mining has exceeded the threshold for sustainability, resulting in collapses and shifting plates. Add the geothermal power stations that are currently in use—which, by the way, work by drilling into the mantle and outer core—and you have a recipe for quakes, volcanoes, spontaneous weather changes, and a whole lot more. All of this is bad, really bad, but it's not planetary-explosion bad. That title belongs to the Brainiac scenario—you know, the guy who thought collecting cities was a good hobby? That resulted in further destabilization of our core. I'm glad I wasn't born yet to witness that mess. What I'm trying to say is… we're *screwed*." 

"Young lady," my mother interjected sharply, "I did not raise you to use such foul language. No data pad usage for you for at least a week." 

"But, Mom!" 

"No 'buts'! Now continue where you left off—and no swearing from you." 

"Okay, fine," I grumbled. "But I'm right. Things aren't good. But worry not, for I am here!" I struck a heroic pose, chin raised, hands on my waist, and eyes gazing dramatically over everyone's heads. 

I was met with only raised eyebrows and bewilderment. 

"My epicness is wasted on you," I muttered before continuing. "Anyway, I found a way to delay the explosion by ten years, which is very impressive, by the way. You can show me how proud you are by giving me sugar later. I've already sent the plan to Uncle Jor, and he already has ship schematics ready in case we fail to save Krypton within the ten-year window we'll have. Now comes the hard part: politics." 

After that, I took a deep breath and waited for everyone to gather their thoughts. It was only half a minute later that someone spoke up. 

"What do you mean, politics?" Uncle Zod asked, looking at me. 

It was my mother who answered, her voice tinged with exasperation. "What she means is we have to take this to the Council and try to convince them of our impending extinction." 

"I don't understand what's so difficult about that," Uncle Zod replied. "Jor-El and Zor-El have gathered all the data, and it looks pretty convincing to me." 

"You have no idea how stubborn Kryptonians are," I mumbled under my breath. 

My mother took a deep breath and began delegating tasks. "We'll need Zor-El, Jor-El, and me to present the data to the Council. I'll be there to mitigate and try to convince them it's in their best interest to listen to you. Zod and Astra, you solidify your position in the military. We'll need the resources, but be subtle—we don't want them to think we're starting something we aren't. Please, no drastic actions until we've talked to the Council. We must plan every step carefully to ensure the survival of our entire species." 

She then looked at me the way she does sometimes—like she's peering into something deeper, something she can't quite put into words. 

"What should I do?" I asked. 

"You should be a child," she said softly. 

"What does that mean?" 

"It means your mother is very proud of you," she replied, her voice warm but firm. "I thank Rao for the day you were born into this world, and I couldn't be happier to have been your mother." 

Now, nothing good ever comes when your parents tell you how much they love you out of the blue. It usually ends with disappointment and unwelcome thoughts of what you did wrong. All in all? I did not like where this was going. 

"Kara, are you okay? What's wrong?" my mother asked, her brow furrowing. 

"Did I do something wrong?" 

"No, why would you say that? You did everything right. Tell me, why would you ask that?" 

"You were talking like you were building me up to put me down gently. Or how the parent of the protagonist talks when they're about to die and leave the child with a twisted sense of responsibility." 

"What? No!" she said, her smile returning. "I was saying that to express my pride and love for my child." 

I recovered with a quick retort. "And to also tell me to leave politics and big responsibilities to the adults. Fine, but if I end up exploding with the rest of you, I'm haunting you all in Kryptonian heaven." I pouted for effect. "Also, I hate politics." 

Of course, being the perfectionist control freak that I am, I'd steal their plans and review them behind their backs. That way, I wouldn't receive any surprises.