Clark was standing in his loft, trying to look occupied in his usual nondescript fashion, when Lana Lang's head popped into view from the stairs below, neglecting to knock or clear her throat to make her presence known like a normal person, and instead speaking directly as if her preternatural prettiness gave her license to disregard common manners - even if they were in a barn.

"I got your message," she said sweetly.

Clark spun to face her, even though he'd heard her coming since before her SUV rumbled into view. "Oh, yeah?" Did I leave one?

"Yeah, so I came over."

"What for?"

"Because you left a message."

"I got your message!" Came another voice from behind Lana, as Chloe too stepped into the loft. "Hi, Lana. Did he call you too?"

"Well, I said I got his message, so evidently."

"Hi, Chloe," Clark greeted. "What are you doing here?"

"Nice to see you too, Clark," Chloe answered stingingly. "I got your message, so I came over to answer it. Like always."

"So did I," piped up yet another voice with sneakered feet following it up the stairs. "Hey, Clark, what's up? I got your message." Pete fell into the ranks of those who'd apparently received messages from Clark and could find no way to respond other than trekking to his Fortress of Solitude.

"Clark? I came as soon as I got your message. What can I do to help?" Lex smoothly took command of the non-versation as he too entered the loft. Solitude indeed.

"Help with what?" Clark was getting progressively more confused.

"Well, it was you who left the message," Lex offered by way of explanation.

"What?"

"Clark, Son, we got your message," Jonathan Kent announced as he bounded up the stairs with Martha in tow.

"Now wait a minute, why would I leave you two a message?

Martha scowled. "Well, everybody else in this town calls me, even when it doesn't make any sense."

Four more faces appeared in the loft, two male and two female. "We got your message,"

Everyone in the room turned to stare at them blankly.

"Uh, we come in peace," said the guy with wildly untamable hair, before the darkly brooding one glowered at him disapprovingly.

"Who are you?" Clark queried.

"Who are you?" repeated the guy with the hair.

"Their names are Max, Michael, Isabel, and Tess. They're from Roswell, New Mexico." Yet another person evidently summoned by Clark had entered the loft. Some fortress.

"Ryan!" Martha Kent cried, embracing the clairvoyant boy. "You're alive!"

"Well, I got a message from Clark. Showing up in person is the only way to answer, right?"

"Of course," Lana answered, and the others nodded in agreement. Even those from Roswell.

Clark's confusion was turning to agitation. "Okay, but how did I call you? Or any of you? And why? Especially people from Roswell? You're not even on the air anymore!"

Lex stepped forward. "Clark, I really only came by to ask you an obscure question that would take ten seconds to discuss, and then I'd promptly head back to Luthorcorp."

"I didn't call you in the first place," Clark whined. "Why is everybody always showing up here, saying they got my messages? If I called you in the first place, why don't you just call me back? Does anybody ever see me actually make a call? Do you even see a phone in here?"

"Don't you have a cell phone?" Chloe asked.

"Only when the writers find it convenient."

"Somebody call for a pizza?" A delivery boy jaunted up the steps.

"Yeah! You I called."

"How? You don't even have a cell phone out here." Chloe's investigative nature was given a green light.

"I do now."

"Since when?"

"Since now, it's convenient."