Looking at the 486-era computer, Henry suddenly had many thoughts.
Though he was used to playing AAA masterpieces from two or three decades into the future, that didn't mean older games from the '90s and earlier were completely obsolete. Many weren't about graphics or grinding but revolved around pure gameplay concepts. Take Tetris, for example. No matter the console's performance, how could the core gameplay ever change? Its appeal remained timeless, transcending hardware generations.
But a computer isn't a game console. Its primary purpose isn't just for gaming.
At its core, a computer's main function is computation—followed closely by its capability for network communication through signal transmission. Both are fields with immense potential. In his previous life, Henry had been a homebody, spending his time gaming and watching adult movies. But now, gifted with a Kryptonian's super brain, doing something like hacking shouldn't be too difficult, right?
Even in DC lore, Superman often relied on Batman's strategic thinking, but that didn't mean he lacked intelligence himself.
According to Brainiac—a super AI and a reliable authority on intelligence classification—he was rated at level 12, the highest. The collective intelligence of all 20th-century humans only reached level 6. Lex Luthor, Superman's most brilliant adversary, could also hit level 12 at his peak. Superman, meanwhile, averaged at level 11.
Despite being frequently overshadowed by Batman's cunning, Superman had developed a lot of scientific tools himself. Most were auxiliary devices rather than central inventions, largely because his natural powers made many technologies redundant. As a result, people often overlooked how smart he really was—especially with Batman around, making it seem like Superman's brain went offline.
Still, Henry wasn't arrogant enough to think that his Kryptonian template was on Superman's level.
To begin with, Superman had been raised by the Kents, who—despite being stubborn—instilled human values in him, effectively raising a Kryptonian god as an Earth-loving protector. Henry's own experience was far less wholesome: tortured nearly to death by the Russians early on. Yet somehow, he remained a lazy salted fish, disinclined to seek vengeance or plunge into darkness. Morally, could he really compare to that paragon of virtue?
But if his mind was even half as sharp as Superman's, the best way to conceal his identity on Earth would be to develop his intellect—not to rely on brute force. It was certainly better than eventually becoming the guy in red underwear deflecting bullets, or hearing people on the ground point skyward and shout, "Look! It's a stupid bird!"
Or worse: "No, it's a bullet!"—and then wondering how someone could even spot a bullet from that high up.
With those thoughts in mind, Henry knew he couldn't afford to wait for computer performance to catch up to what it had been in his previous life. The tech of each era had value, and while hardware would continue to improve, knowledge could always be accumulated in the present.
Interestingly, while hardware advanced rapidly, outdated equipment often lingered far longer than expected. Unless something broke, people typically kept using what they had. That was human nature.
Take the Y2K disaster, for instance. Banks, desperate to fix legacy systems, scoured the globe for old programmers—even retirees—hoping they could patch the dreaded millennium bug. Young engineers unfamiliar with outdated code were practically useless in that situation.
And with billions on the line, banks weren't about to trust last-minute fixes from rookies.
So when Henry saw this 486 computer, he couldn't help but be intrigued. He looked it over carefully and asked, "Do you have a modem? What system are you using?"
The friendly old white man grinned. "No modem. Those little things only connect to a few university bulletin board systems now. I use this big guy to play Ultima VI. Way better than those low-energy game consoles."
He went on, "As for the system, it's MS-DOS 4.01. I didn't use PC-DOS—it's less efficient in command execution and worse at resource management. I've also got DOSV as an add-on. It groups files by color type. Looks a lot nicer."
"Do you know Linux?" Henry asked.
"Li… what now?"
"Oh. Not yet." Henry smirked. In his memory, this open-source pioneer hadn't been born yet—but it would be, within a year or two.
Open-source culture wasn't entirely new, especially within university campuses in Europe and the U.S. Professors and students often created custom software for niche research needs. Commercial software rarely hit the mark for their specific applications, so building their own was the ideal solution.
Still, these programs were always built on top of existing systems. You still had to buy the base OS.
That changed with Linux. It was the first core operating system built with open-source ideals. It finally gave universities and researchers a totally free choice.
The philosophy behind it was simple: as long as the project wasn't commercialized or monetized, they built freely and furiously. Later on, while some commercial server companies based their products on Linux, what they really sold was service—not the system itself.
Henry found that vision fascinating. The Information Age was clearly just over the horizon. So why not get in early?
Waiting for better hardware was pointless. This wasn't a game where you could grind to max level in the starting village and then go out to dominate everything. If you insisted on being fully prepared before venturing out, chances were you'd be stuck in the starting village forever.
The old man, noticing Henry's keen interest in the computer, grinned again. "You like it? I've got a buddy who can get you one. Fast, and the latest model. Not like those other guys trying to dump their old stock."
Henry was tempted.
Wandering the streets of Los Angeles lately, he'd noticed how electronic stores didn't really exist yet—not the way they did in his original timeline. If you wanted tech gear, your best bet was a hypermarket. Otherwise, you had to contact the manufacturer's sales division directly.
Still…
Henry glanced around the place with suspicion and said, "Isn't this a photo studio?"
"I am," the man admitted.
"And you sell personal computers on the side?"
"Exactly. If it makes money, why not?"
Henry blinked. "You're not Jewish, are you?"
"I'm Italian. F*** Mussolini," the old man replied with sudden venom, as if declaring his anti-fascist stance.
After a moment, Henry shook his head. "Forget it. I need to find a place to live first. Unless you've got a personal computer I can use in a car."
The man didn't skip a beat. "Hey, I can find you a place too."
"F***." The Kryptonian was speechless.
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