National Espionage, Rescue, and Defense Society

by Michael Buckley

  Mr. Jones set down the spoon, causing Butch to erupt in fury. “OK, Jackson. You have my attention. Did you get bullied again?”

  “I’m—that’s not what I want to tell you,” Jackson stammered. The telephone rang in the kitchen.

  “Can you hold on for a sec?” his father said as he got up and headed for the kitchen. “Feed Butch while I’m gone.”

  The boys exchanged pained expressions.

  “Well, I got practice,” Chaz said, shoveling a heaping bite of Swiss steak into his mouth and then getting up from the table.

  “Jerk,” Jackson called after him.

  “I’ll pray for you, Nerdatron,” Chaz said, and disappeared out the front door, leaving Jackson and Butch alone.

  The pit bull eyed the boy with contempt.

  “Right back at you, ugly,” Jackson said.

  Butch exploded with angry snarls, causing Mr. Jones to pop his head into the room. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing,” Jackson said, and his father disappeared again. “Only your dog is insane,” Jackson muttered.

  Jackson took a seat near the dog and picked up the big wooden spoon his father used to feed the beast. He loaded it with veal, but, unfortunately, as soon his hand got close, the evil canine lunged for it and nipped him hard. Jackson clenched his teeth and tried again. This time the dog nearly took a chunk of his thumb.

  “If you do that one more time, I’m going to let you starve,” Jackson threatened.

  When the third spoonful approached, Butch sunk his teeth into the side of Jackson’s hand. Jackson was about to cry out when he felt an odd swirling in his mouth. It felt as if his braces had come to life. They were moving left and right and up and down, and then his mouth flew open and two long metallic tentacles shot out. One snatched Butch by the jaws and forced them open, while the second grabbed the plate with the veal and poured it all into the dog’s mouth. When every last chunk was inside, the tentacles forced the dog to chew.

  “That was your principal,” Jackson’s dad said as he came back into the room.

  Jackson looked down and saw that the odd appendages had slipped back into his mouth. Butch looked stunned.

  “He says you’ve been cutting classes and disappearing,” Mr. Jones said as he sat back down at the table.

  “That’s what I wanted to tell you about—”

  Jackson’s father shook his head. “Son, four weeks ago you were the most popular kid in school. Now you’ve been cut from the football team, your grades are in the toilet, and you’re turning into a delinquent. What is going on with you?”

  Jackson was about to explain, but his father stopped him, again.

  “Look at your brother. Chaz is an all-star. He’s dependable. He’s starting at quarterback as a freshman in high school. He’s well liked and has a million friends. If you want to know what I expect from you, just take a look at him.”

  Jackson’s face reddened with anger and embarrassment.

  “Whatever is causing this turnaround in you is a bad influence. Get rid of it, Jackson. Get your act together.”

  Jackson’s dad turned to Butch. “You want to go for a walk, big guy?”

  The dog raced out of the room.

  “What’s got into him?” Mr. Jones asked.

  Jackson watched his dad leave the room. After a moment, he shook off his hurt and hurried out to the garage to search in his father’s old toolbox for a pair of pliers. When he found them, he ran back inside, climbing the stairs two at a time until he reached the bathroom, and closed the door tight behind him. He flipped on the light and stepped in front of the mirror. He opened his mouth to study his braces. They were moving! He could see them swarming here and there like worker ants. What had the nerds called them? Nanobytes? Regular braces were bad enough. The last thing he needed were braces made from tiny supercomputers. He had to get rid of them. But as soon as he put the pliers in his mouth, his braces lashed out like a whip and knocked the tool out of his hand. On the next try, they snatched the pliers out of his hand and smacked him on the top of his head with them.

  Jackson gave up. He went to his room and threw himself on the bed. He knew he was in big trouble. Whatever that strange computer had done to him, it had made him dangerous. He wondered how long it would be before his braces hurt someone. He imagined himself being tried and sentenced to life in prison for assault with a deadly dental device. He wondered what life would be like for a fifth grader in a federal penitentiary. Eventually he fell asleep and dreamed of a life on a chain gang, fixing the roads as Principal Dehaven stood over him shouting his name, over and over again.

  When he woke, it was still dark out. He sat up, waited for his eyes to adjust, and then screamed and nearly fell out of bed.

  Mr. Brand was sitting on the edge of his mattress. He looked completely different than he did at school. His face was shaved, his hair was washed, and he was dressed in an expensive-looking dark gray suit. In his hand he held a small black case.

  “How did you get in my window?” Jackson cried. “I keep it locked.”

  Brand smiled. “It’s a spy thing.”

  “Oh,” Jackson said, climbing to his feet. “That’s what you are—a spy?”

  “Special Agent Alexander Brand,” the man said, reaching out his hand. Jackson eyed him suspiciously and refused to take it. “I’m the director of NERDS.”

  “The director of what?”

  Brand sighed. “The National Espionage, Rescue, and Defense Society. NERDS. It’s an unfortunate acronym.” He reached into his pocket and removed a small blue orb much like the two Jackson had seen at the Playground. The spy pushed a button on its side, and familiar blue particles swirled out of it. “I’m kind of new to the organization, so I thought I’d bring an expert. Say hello, Benjamin.”

  “Hello, Agent Brand,” said the now familiar voice. “Your requested data is ready. Shall we begin?”

  “Yes,” Brand said.

  “Very well. Welcome to an introduction to the National Espionage, Rescue, and Defense Society, also known as NERDS. Allow me to introduce myself.”

  Suddenly, the blue particles merged and a chubby old man in leggings and tiny spectacles appeared. He was balding, but wore his hair long in the back. Jackson recognized him at once. “You’re Benjamin Franklin.”

  “Actually, Jackson, I’m the holographic representation of the teams’ supercomputer technology. I have a level-four artificial intelligence and upon request can appear as America’s great elder statesman, but the true Mr. Franklin has been dead for many years. However, you can call me Benjamin.”

  Jackson reached out to shake the figure’s hand, but this only caused the image to ripple and smear.

  Benjamin smiled. “Perhaps we should get started.”

  Suddenly, Jackson’s room disappeared into a three-dimensional desert landscape so real he started to sweat. A beautiful pyramid rose up right before him, as well as thousands of dark-skinned men and women in tunics. They were gathered about listening to a single figure dressed in robes and a crown. Jackson guessed he was a king. He raised his hands to the sun above.

  “Many people consider the real Benjamin Franklin to be America’s first spy, but I am in no way the world’s first. No, the secret agent has been around since the earliest days of recorded history. Akhenaten, the controversial Pharaoh of Egypt, enlisted his own son, Tutankhamun, to keep a careful eye on his enemies.”

  The hologram revealed a small boy wearing a crown and beautiful robes. He was huddling behind a column, listening to the conversation of two men who lurked in the shadows.

  “Since then, spies have been used by countless leaders,” Benjamin continued as the Egyptian setting vanished only to be replaced with three-dimensional portraits of various historical figures: Julius Caesar, Cleopatra, Napoleon Bonaparte, Attila the Hun, Richard the Lionheart, Queen Elizabeth, Abraham Lincoln, Winston Churchill, and Fidel Castro. Suddenly, the images faded, leaving Benjamin alone.

  “But secret agent work was dangerous. Sp
ies were often killed in the line of duty. Then in the nineteen thirties and forties, everything changed. The first American computers became operational.”

  Benjamin disappeared, only to be replaced by the image of a massive computer that more than filled Jackson’s room.

  “It’s as big as a house,” Jackson said.

  “The Mark 1, which became operational in 1944, was for the most part just a gigantic calculator, but it ushered in the age of technology, especially in the world of espionage. Soon agents could send information around the world in seconds. They could monitor targets from satellites, and they had hightech gadgets at their disposal. But there were problems.”

  The Mark 1 disappeared, and in its place was a spy driving a sharp sports car along the Pacific Coast Highway. He wiped some sweat from his brow and eyed a panel of red buttons on his dash, with labels like “rocket launcher” and “turbo boost.” The spy searched the buttons until he found one labeled “air conditioner.” But when he tried to push it, he accidentally punched one that read “ejector seat” instead, and a moment later he was flying out of the top of the car and into the ocean.

  “Most of the agents were not good with technology,” Benjamin explained.

  The road vanished and now Jackson saw a man in a tuxedo, surrounded by ninjas. He pushed a button on his watch and a thin red laser fired, cutting the villains to ribbons. Proud of himself, the spy straightened his tie but forgot to turn off his watch, cutting off his own arm. His image was replaced by that of an agent removing a stick of gum from a package labeled “exploding gum.” She popped it into her mouth and started to chew. Just watching her face, Jackson could tell the woman had accidentally swallowed the gum. A moment later her face vanished from view, but the explosion was deafening. Benjamin returned.

  “It became clear that computers, technology, and science did not always mix with agents used to the field, and it was decided that a team of techno-savvy spies was needed, to take advantage of America’s growing computer capabilities. A team of people perfectly comfortable with machines and gadgets.”

  The scene changed and Jackson found himself standing in the middle of an empty lot. Construction was underway on a seemingly normal building, but the lot was swarming with military police and the work was being done at night.

  “There was only one group of people in the country with no fear of technology: children. The government quickly realized the advantages of recruiting children to do clandestine work. They are small, and adults often ignore them and underestimate their abilities and intelligence. In other words, children make great spies. So, in 1977, the government formed the National Espionage, Rescue, and Defense Society.”

  Jackson watched as the construction crew went into fast forward. Before his eyes, the empty lot became his school, Nathan Hale Elementary.

  “Membership in the organization follows strict rules. Only a child can be an agent. Each agent is retired from active duty at the age of eighteen. No one can know of the NERDS’ existence. Their work is done in secret.”

  The picture changed and Jackson saw the nerd herd, only each of them was doing amazing things.

  “The current team consists of Duncan Dewey, code name Gluestick, a boy who can walk on walls and create powerful polymers by enhancing the glue he loves to eat.”

  Jackson watched Duncan’s chubby little body leaping from wall to wall on the holographic projection. Duncan ran along one wall, then hung upside down from the ceiling. There was also video of him wiping his sticky skin on walls to seal cracks and bind doors. It was amazing, yet no sooner had he appeared than he was replaced by an image of Matilda.

  “Matilda Choi, code name Wheezer, has always suffered from bronchial asthma, keeping her from athletic achievement and, occasionally, from walking around the block. But with the help of nano-powered inhalers, she can not only breathe freely, but fly as well. Her inhalers double as blowtorches to burn through steel doors, and as concussion blasts to knock down enemies.”

  Matilda soared into the air. The next image showed her using the inhalers to burn a hole in the hull of a ship, and then to blast the crew as they ran to challenge her. She vanished and was replaced with Heathcliff.

  “Heathcliff Hodges, code name Choppers, has an unfortunate set of buckteeth, but after a special nano-designed hallucinogenic whitening treatment, Hodges can use them to control the minds of people and many animals.”

  Heathcliff was shown hypnotizing a pack of wild dogs to chase down a villain. Then there was an image of him being backed into a corner by sword-wielding ninjas. He smiled and the ninjas dropped their swords and raised their hands in surrender. Heathcliff’s face quickly morphed into Julio Escala’s. Julio’s tiny, shaky frame was quickly overlaid with the harness Jackson had seen him wearing.

  “An important addition to the team is Julio Escala, code name Flinch. Flinch is intensely hyperactive, but now his busy body’s nervous energy has been channeled into a special suit that converts it into superhuman strength and speed.”

  Jackson watched as Julio lifted a car off the ground like it was a newspaper, then saw him racing down a freeway, outrunning a BMW.

  Running Julio became Ruby Peet, who scratched at her skin like an old dog with a bad case of the mange. A moment later, her body was swelling like a balloon.

  “Ruby Peet, code name Pufferfish, has the most severe case of allergies in documented history. She has extraordinary reactions to everything from peanuts to pizza, even swelling up when exposed to emotions like fear, anger, and love. What could be seen as a weakness has now been enhanced into an incredible ability. Her allergies warn her of danger and dishonesty in others. She is the team’s current leader.”

  Benjamin continued. “Like their predecessors, the newest members of NERDS operate in shadows, using their weaknesses as strengths, monitoring the globe for possible conflicts, and fighting for the security of the world. Together, they are the world’s last, best hope. When the best of the best can’t get it done, NERDS can. Ta-ta for now.”

  The blue particles vanished, and Benjamin with them. Jackson found his bedroom returned to normal once more.

  “Why are you telling me all of this?” Jackson said as he turned to Mr. Brand.

  “Because I want you to join the team,” the spy replied.

  “Why me?”

  Brand smiled. “I’ve just taken over as director, but I can already see the team has become too set in their ways, too isolated. A new perspective is just the thing they need to shake them up. You’re a gifted athlete.”

  “True.”

  “And you’re a born leader.”

  “It’s like you know me.”

  “Plus, I’ve been watching you for some time, Jackson. You are a snoop. You spy on your friends and teachers and you’re good at it. You managed to find your way into the Playground.”

  “So I’m very clever. That doesn’t make me a spy,” Jackson said.

  “No, what makes you a spy is that tingling feeling you get when you are about to uncover a secret.”

  Jackson was stunned. How could Brand know about the tingling?

  “I’ve been doing this work for a long time,” Agent Brand continued. “I know when someone has what it takes. Plus, you have the incredible upgrade that Benjamin gave you.”

  “I can’t be a spy,” Jackson said. “Spies have to fly all over the world. What would I tell my dad?”

  “Most of our missions take place during school hours. At other times, you can rely on this,” the spy said as he reached down and picked up his black case. He opened the lid.

  “A clarinet?”

  “Tell your family you want to learn to play an instrument so you can join the marching band. Musical education takes a lot of time, especially after school. Your father will think you’re just busy. He will never guess you are saving the world. And if he does, well, we always have Heathcliff’s teeth. He can wipe his memory.”

  “What about school? He’ll notice if my grades drop, and they are already dr
agging the ground.”

  “Jackson, we can’t do your homework and take tests for you, but you’ll have access to some of the finest minds in the world. You saw those scientists in the Playground. They’ll tutor you.”

  Jackson was dumbfounded. He tried to imagine himself as a spy, but his mind was blank. “Can I think about it?” he said. “This is a big decision and I’m very much in demand these days. I really need to weigh my options.”

  Agent Brand nodded. “Of course. Think about it carefully, Jackson. We would pretty much own you until you’re eighteen years old, but you would help keep millions, maybe even billions of people safe.”

  The spy reached into his pocket, pulled out a sealed envelope, and placed it in Jackson’s hand. “When you’re ready to serve your country, read this and follow the instructions.”

  Jackson glanced down at the envelope. “What is it?” But there was no answer. When he looked back up, the spy was gone.

  In the world of professional crime there are four kinds of bosses: (1) Those who are obsessed with taking over the world in order to save it. They think they’re actually heroes, ending one kind of world so that the survivors can pick up the pieces and start anew. (2) Those who want to destroy the world because of some perceived injustices from childhood or a time when colleagues laughed at their revolutionary ideas. Scientists are always laughing at each other, and it really irks some of them. (3) Those motivated by greed. For them, taking over the world is just another opportunity to drain it of all its money and resources. (4) The clinically insane type. The crazy bosses are prone to angry outbursts, paranoia, and unprovoked killing of underlings. They pore over their plans and doomsday devices, neglecting to shave or take a shower, and are baffled that those around them can’t see the genius of their ideas.

  The Hyena had begun to suspect that Dr. Felix Jigsaw was the fourth kind of boss. He rambled on and on to an imaginary colleague whom he was convinced was trying to sabotage his work. He ate nothing but bean sprouts, whole tea bags, and uncooked egg noodles, and he had a nasty habit of killing people when he didn’t get his way. If it hadn’t been for the guaranteed raise after ninety days, the Hyena would have quit.