Wait a minute. Why is everyone laughing? Oh no—please don’t tell me I got it wrong. I’m positive that’s right! Well, almost positive.
“Funny as well as brilliant, I see, Mr. Klosmo. That problem, of course, was left on the screen from some tutoring I was doing with a third grader this morning. Here is your problem.”
Yikes! Is that a math problem or a secret launch code? I don’t hear any fire alarms going off, either, so I’m toast for sure this time. Maybe I can talk Mom and Dad into homeschooling me so I never have to come out of my room again.
Or not. Okay, this is getting weird.
Chapter 24
Drat! I can’t see a thing. I just hope Klosmo is going straight to his laboratory and not dillydallying around. I have secrets to uncover!
I hear a door opening. Wait.
We’ve stopped and he’s set the briefcase down. I can hear workers grunting. And that sounds like propulsion fluid swishing through pipes and into the robots’ fuel tanks. We must be in the laboratory!
Zarfloots! At least the glue has clogged my nostrils.
20 minutes later…
We’re moving again. Well, it’s about time! I was beginning to think that bespectacled blockhead had fallen asleep. We’re making our way down a long corridor and through another door. Klosmo is setting the briefcase down again and walking away.
I’m almost afraid to look.
Well, that’s better. Now I just need to access the Zorb files, find the planetoid’s location, hide until everyone leaves for the evening, climb up into the giant robot’s control dome, pilot it to that same planetoid, locate the Zorb, and take it for myself. Easy peasy!
Zarfloots! I forgot about the password. Well, how hard could it be to figure out? I just need to put myself in Klosmo’s head, to think like he would think.
ENTER PASSWORD:
IAMSTUPID
INVALID PASSWORD. TRY AGAIN.
Double zarfloots! This may take a while.
ENTER PASSWORD:
IAMALOSER
INVALID PASSWORD. TRY AGAIN.
ENTER PASSWORD:
IAMASTUPIDLOSER
INVALID PASSWORD. TRY AGAIN.
ENTER PASSWORD:
EVERYBODYHATESME
INVALID PASSWORD. TRY AGAIN.
Okay, this is going nowhere fast. My own thoughts about that sad-sack scientist keep getting in the way. I may as well let a monkey type in passwords at this point. But it’s not my fault. It’s hard to concentrate when I can overhear Klosmo telling all those pathetic jokes to his assistants. How can they get any work done with such lame… WAIT! I’VE GOT IT!
ENTER PASSWORD:
HAR!
CORRECT PASSWORD.
I can’t believe that wasn’t my first guess. Not that it matters-I’m in the system! Now to access the Zorb data!
Ah, so that’s why it’s called the Zorb. Although they could have named it the Ploopydooper, for all I care. Now that I have the coordinates, all that remains is to hide until the laboratory empties, and the universe is as good as mine. ZOUNDS! If I weren’t 70 percent polyester, I’d be getting goose bumps right now!
In fact, I’m in such a wonderfully EVIL mood that, before I hide, I simply MUST get my revenge on that cretin Klosmo! I must make him suffer like he made me suffer for all those years. I must do something so awful, so heinous, so diabolically EVIL, that he will NEVER recover!
BWAHAHAHAHA!!!
Uh-oh. Someone’s coming! Time to play dead again. Who would give a second glance at a stuffed rabbit lying on a desk?
Chapter 25
I’m starting to LOVE Coach Ed’s gym class, even though he made me run laps for being late the other day. And it sure has nothing to do with being a great athlete, because I’m not. A great athlete, I mean. When your parents are the smartest scientists on your entire planet, you can’t really expect to inherit a ton of athletic ability from them.
And I didn’t.
The closest thing they have to a sports-related skill is bowling, and that’s only if you can call a 57 average “skill.” That’s my mom, by the way. My dad’s average is 42. To put that in perspective, a friend back at one of my old Earth schools told me that an orangutan once bowled a 127. That’s right—an ape is a better bowler than both my parents combined. I’d hate to see what a chimpanzee could do.
The reason I like gym is there’s no pressure on me to be a genius. Coach Ed isn’t parading me up in front of the class to show off my brilliance at throwing a ball or jumping over a hurdle. Coach Ed isn’t even alive. He’s a SportBot, and a pretty old one, at that. PhysEd-201 is his official designation, and apparently, he used to be a galaxy-class glormball player. But he’s seen better days.
And that’s Tor in the airchair. He’s Coach Ed’s student assistant and by far the biggest sports fan in the school. He knows who holds every record in every sport on every planet in the galaxy. Unfortunately, he can’t tell you what he had for breakfast yesterday because every memory cell is being used to store sports data. And even though he has six legs, they’re too weak to support his weight, so Tor can’t play any of the sports himself.
“Listen up, everybody. Today we’re going to learn the proper technique for hitting a glorm with a fleenor racket. Now, I don’t mean to brag, but back at the Kragwin Championships of ’83, I splorted the winning goal with one second left in the final period, giving my team the Division 22 Intergalactic League title. So I know what I’m talking about.”
I’m glad someone does.
“The key to a successful splort is in the follow-through. Now watch closely.”
“Okay—any questions?”
“Yeah, is your arm supposed to go farther than the glorm?”
“Only after years of practice. Now, I need a couple volunteers.”
See? He didn’t ask for me specifically to demonstrate in front of the class. I’m just another student to Coach Ed. Nothing special. And I like it that way.
“I’ll do it.”
“Very good. And who else would like to give it a try?”
“Hey, how about the genius? Unwess he’s afwaaaaaaid.”
Oh, c’mon! So much for this being my favorite class.
“Um… I would, but I have a bit of an upset stomach from lunch. I should probably just sit over here until it settles down.”
“What’s the matter, smart guy? Grimnee’s not here to save your sorry behind? What a putz.”
“I’ll do it!”
What? Zot? Play glormball against Dorn? No way this ends well. Dorn is as much a gentleman as a cow is a video game player. I mean, what with the hooves and all. He’s going to massacre her. He’ll massacre me, too, but I can’t let Zot take the hit.
“It’s okay, Coach Ed. I’ll do it.”
“Like heck you will! Sit that upset stomach of yours down, Kelv. No one wants to see what you had for lunch.”
Whoa! I don’t know anything about glormball, but that was impressive!
Chapter 26
Hey, everybody! I’m home! And boy, oh boy, does something smell terrific!”
That “something” would be the synthesized mac and cheese Mom made for dinner. It tastes just like the hot dogs. I’ve tried drowning it in synthesized salt, but that doesn’t work because the salt tastes just like the mac and cheese. And the hot dogs. And the sofa cushions. I actually look forward to eating in the cafeteria at school, because they don’t use synthesizers. Sure, the food from other parts of the galaxy can be a bit… different…
… but at least it’s real. In fact, sometimes it’s so real it crawls down my throat all by itself.
But back to Dad’s comment. “Really?” I say. “This stuff doesn’t even have a smell. Or a taste.”
Dad rubs his hands together excitedly. “I know. It reminds me of our dinners back on Earth. HAR!”
“But before we eat, I have a couple surprises.” Dad opens up his briefcase and pulls Fluffles out. He looks angrier than I remember. “I found this little fella down in th
e lab. I have no idea how he got there. Maybe he hitched a ride on my briefcase this morning! HAR!”
Bula runs over and snatches the plushy. “Flufflee Mufflee! I’ve been looking for you all day!” she squeals. “C’mon, let’s go in my room. I have a big surprise for you!”
Dad is still at the door, his goofy grin goofier than usual.
“I thought you said you had a couple of surprises.”
“And indeed I do. Kelvin, meet Lightyear.”
“He belonged to one of the other scientists, but he kept getting into stuff in the laboratory, so he had to go. I figured, hey, we could use a pet! So… voilà!”
“Hey, I remember him. He was in one of the rooms we passed on our field trip to your lab. So you mean he’s ours? To keep?”
“Sure is—as long as we take good care of him. Watch out, though. I hear he’ll eat just about anything. Well, except for your mom’s cooking. HAR!”
Wow. Dad’s in rare form. Who cares, though, because THIS is awesome! Our very own dog! Or whatever the heck he is.
“Is it okay if I play with Lightyear in my room for a bit?”
“I suppose so. Make it quick, though. We’re eating in ten minutes.”
We head back to my room and I close the door. I really want to see what this little guy can do. Who knows? Maybe he’s a lot smarter than an Earth dog.
“Okay, Lightyear,” I say. “Sit.”
“Shake hands.”
“Lie down.”
So I guess that’s a no on the whole smart thing. He does look like he’s having fun, though. I wonder if he’s a retriever? I grab the rubber ball that’s sitting on my desk. “You want to play ball, boy?” Lightyear snaps to attention, his tongue and tail both wagging furiously. I toss the ball across the room, and Lightyear immediately pounces into action. He scoops it up, races back over to where I’m sitting on the floor, and drops the ball. Now that’s more like it.
And then I get the biggest, wettest face lick of my life. My glasses are covered in so much slobber I can’t see. “Really, Lightyear?” I say as I remove the glasses to clean off the drool. Lightyear stares at me for a second and then… eats the rubber ball. And I don’t mean he bites it or chews on it. He eats the whole thing—just scarfs it down in one big gulp. And then things really start getting weird.
I call Spotch and Rand-El and tell them to get over here right now.
Chapter 27
This is unacceptable! I’ve been trapped in this infernal briefcase for what seems like days… squashed on top of a half-eaten cheese and onion sandwich. The only upside is I can’t hear Klosmo’s terrible jokes. Except, of course, for the “HARs.” Those come through loud and clear. When I rule the universe, “HARs” will be punishable by death.
My patience is wearing thin. The universe rightfully belongs to ME and I want to rule it NOW! If I must wait even another minute, I will surely-hold on! What’s this?! We’re moving!
Klosmo must be moving the briefcase to another part of the lab. When he opens it up, I simply need to “accidentally” fall out and roll under a table or something before I’m spotted.
I can hear the sound of elevator doors opening. And now closing. We’re moving upward. We must be heading to the robot’s control dome. Excellent! This might work out even better than I hoped for. Now we’re moving forward again. I don’t remember it being this long of a walk.
Klosmo is setting the briefcase down. I can hear the locks being fumbled with. Here’s my chance!
Oh, for the love of biscuits, not again! I really thought I’d seen the last of that ponytailed pipsqueak. Honestly, how can one infernal family bring one cuddly, fuzzy little evil scientist so much anguish?
I would have to say, without a doubt, that this is the low point of my career.
Until now.
Chapter 28
I quickly wolf down my dinner and am back in my room with Lightyear when Rand-El and Spotch arrive. Spotch seems a little put out.
“What’s so important that we had to rush over here? I didn’t even get to finish my dessert.”
“GET to finish your dessert? Wait, you actually like the synthesized food?”
“Sure. It’s just like what we have back home. These synthesizers are awesome.”
“But there’s no flavor.”
“What’s flavor?”
I make a mental note to cross Spotch’s home planet off my list of future vacation destinations. I sense a bit of impatience from the two of them, so I make my reveal of Lightyear, who I had hiding under the desk.
“Whoa. What the heck is that?”
“THAT is Lightyear. He’s our new pet. Well, sort of, anyway.”
“He’s sort of yours?”
“No, he’s all ours. He’s sort of a pet. My dad brought him home from the lab today. But that’s not the best part!”
“He ate your spare glasses and horked them up again? That’s gross, Kelvin.”
“No, he ate a ball and threw them up. And I don’t even have spare glasses.”
“So he ate someone else’s glasses and horked them back up again. You can’t really blame him. I’d have an upset stomach, too, if I swallowed a ball and a pair of glasses.”
“No, he threw up an exact copy of my glasses! Made of the same rubber as the ball!”
“Impossible. He could have gotten ahold of those glasses anywhere. They’re a fairly common style, after all.”
“Oh yeah? Well, how about Rand-El’s glasses? They’re pretty unique, wouldn’t you say?”
“Not on my planet, they aren’t. But out here most of you guys only have two or three eyes, so yeah.”
“Okay, now take them off and hold them in front of Lightyear.”
Rand-El obviously isn’t too keen about this, but he does it anyway. I unscrew the lightbulb from my desk lamp and give it to Lightyear, who immediately inhales it like he hasn’t eaten in days. His stomach begins to churn and make the same strange noises it did when he ate the ball. His entire body starts to lurch and convulse, until he finally opens his mouth wide and…
“Holy trombolee! That is SO cool. And look—they’re made of glass, just like the lightbulb!”
I explain that Lightyear makes replicas of whatever he happens to see as he’s eating, made of whatever substance he’s eating. And he’ll eat anything. Then I pull out a few of my other replica experiments to show Spotch and Rand-El. A toothbrush made of notebook paper. A Commander Virtue action figure made of picture frame metal and glass. A size 8 left-foot space boot made of synthesized macaroni and cheese.
We try a few more experiments, and then Rand-El abruptly changes the subject. “This is awesome, Kelv, and I almost hate to mention it, but have you come up with any ideas for getting us into your dad’s lab to check out that robot? Remember, tonight is the only time everybody can make it.”
Oh, I’ve thought about it. Pretty hard, in fact. And Mr. Smartest Kid in the Universe still hasn’t come up with squat. “I don’t know what to tell you, guys. Like I said, the only way into that lab is with a key card, and both my parents will be at Bula’s art fair tonight. And they never leave the LIV space without those cards. In fact, they’re heading out in about twenty minutes. I don’t know what else to tell you. It’s not like I have my own copy.”
“I’ll be right back,” I say. “You guys look for something made of plastic.”
Dad usually keeps his card on the entrance table when he’s home, and I’m hoping that’s where it is now. Yes! There it is! I snatch the card and head back toward my room.
“Just a minute there, young man. I think you know better than to try pulling something over on us.”
Sci-Fi Junior High Page 5
