“I was curious if anything remained of the meteorite after sixty-five million years,” I said, determined not to reveal my treasure hunt scheme. In truth, I wondered what the value of this meteorite might even be. Prodigium was considered priceless when nobody thought any existed. What it was worth in huge supply was anyone’s guess. And what kind of effects might this much prodigium be having on the people of Superopolis? I was beginning to get a whopper of an idea.
“Well, let me tell you why I am here,” he said as he lapsed into the habit of every villain of explaining himself. “I had always been aware that a meteor impact created the topographical features of Superopolis. And long ago I was able to calculate exactly when it had happened, thanks to my analysis of the rock strata and soil erosion patterns of the Carbunkle Mountains. But I always assumed that the meteor itself had been obliterated upon impact. I never imagined that it could have been made up of pure prodigium until I saw it in person. In those last few minutes while you were saving the city, I was observing its approach from my hiding spot. I was astounded to see that it was, indeed, prodigium—a substance I always thought to be practically nonexistent.”
“I remember,” I said. “You waited twenty-five years for me to return with the one small chunk that you needed to operate the Tipler.”
“Exactly. So just imagine the marvelous ideas I’ve gotten as I’ve thought about what I could do with a million times as much of the power-packed substance.”
“I shudder to think . . .” I started to say.
“You should,” he replied, as his eyebrows scrunched menacingly. “Because it also has occurred to me that this much power could very well be the answer to a mystery that has baffled me my entire life. . . . Could it be the cause of the unique powers of every citizen of Superopolis?”
I couldn’t hide my sharp intake of breath. “See?” I turned to my captive friends. “He thinks powers are caused by something, too!”
“O Boy,” Plasma Girl replied with disgust, “he’s an evil villain. I would hardly point to him as support for your theory.”
“Of course powers are caused by something,” the Professor said dismissively. “Everything has a cause. And this meteorite—this gargantuan chunk of prodigium—must somehow be radiating its power in the creation of our powers.”
I was so disturbed over the fact that Professor Brain-Drain and I had been thinking along identical lines once again that I almost missed his next statement.
“That is why I must now destroy it.”
“What?!” I said. Looks of horror appeared on my friends’ faces. If the Professor was right, and he succeeded in his plan, it would be devastating for them.
“Why would you do that?” I asked in alarm.
“Because I can,” he replied matter-of-factly. “I’ve deduced that it must be the water streaming around the base of the meteorite that is actually being affected. As it flows out of the mountains, it then enters the Superopolis water supply. For a week now, my trusty Crush-staceans have been chipping away at the base of the meteorite. Soon it will be completely clear of the stream. Even now the effects must be beginning to be felt throughout the city.”
I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of confirming that he was right, but as he looked at my helpless friends and gave a knowing smirk, I knew he already had all the proof he needed.
“In a matter of hours they will have removed all of it that intrudes into the river,” he continued. “Once they have, the water in this chamber will cease to provide its benefit, and the citizens of Superopolis will be left bereft of their powers.”
“But what about you?” I pointed out. “You’ll lose your power as well.”
“What would you say if I told you I lost my power over ten years ago?” He smiled cryptically.
“Huh?” I said in astonishment. “But I know that’s not true.”
“Do you?” The Professor pushed the point. “Have you ever seen me actually drain anybody’s brain?”
I went silent as I thought back over my previous meetings with the Professor. He was right. I never had seen him actually use his power. He had used his Brain Capacitor to drain away the intelligence of a number of victims. This included the actors who had played him on TV, all of whom were turned into Dumbots.
“But you’ve tried draining my own brain a bunch of different times,” I countered.
“Tried, yes,” he admitted, “but never succeeded.”
“If you have no power, why try at all?” I asked.
“When one is perpetrating a charade, it’s important to play along with the game,” he replied. “People believed I could drain their brains because I acted as if I could. In the meantime, I developed alternative methods to achieve the same effect.”
“Like the Brain Capacitor and the Oomphlifier?” I asked.
“Exactly,” he replied. “Thankfully, I retained all the intelligence I had absorbed during the years my power was effective, and I used that intelligence to find a solution to my dilemma. The Brain Capacitor, which you children almost had a chance to experience, is a mechanical version of my own power. It can sap the intelligence of anyone I strap into it. The problem is that it’s the size of a cement truck and isn’t very practical outside my laboratory.”
“And the Oomphlifier?”
“I invented a power-magnification device under the assumption that I could restore my power by amplifying it,” he said as he reached over to a pitcher of water that was sitting on a nearby table. It was full of ice cubes. “That, too, failed to achieve its primary goal.”
I cringed at the thought that I had tried to use the Oomphlifier for the exact same purpose.
“I even modified the colander on my head with the controls necessary to mentally direct my mechanical creations,” he added as he silently instructed the Crush-staceans to lower us to the ground while still keeping our limbs immobile. “In ten years I’ve discovered thousands of ways to extract, store, and manipulate brain power. I just haven’t figured out how to reinstate my original power—until now!”
An involuntary shudder ran through my body as the Professor picked up a glass and began pouring himself some water.
“You may all be wondering why I revealed something so personal.” He chuckled as he filled his glass and set the pitcher down. It was only then that I noticed that what I had thought were ice cubes floating in the water were actually small chunks of prodigium. “The reason is that you won’t possess that knowledge for very long. You will, however, have the honor of being the first victims to have your brains drained the old-fashioned way in over a decade.”
He took one drink out of the glass of water before setting it back down and then confidently approached me as I struggled against the steely claws of the Crush-stacean.
“It truly is a pity,” was all he said as his finger reached out and came to rest on my forehead.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Escape from the Caverns
Oddly, nothing happened. At least I didn’t think anything was happening. I certainly didn’t feel myself getting dumber. The Professor’s face was wrinkling in annoyance. He lifted his finger and then once again pressed it against my skull. Still nothing. Professor Brain-Drain’s face twisted into a snarl as he began repeatedly poking me in the head.
“Stop that!” I finally blurted out in irritation.
“Aaarrrgghhh!” he erupted in a howling cry of frustration.
“Maybe this meteorite isn’t the source of everyone’s power,” I suggested.
“Of course it is,” he shouted back. “I clearly just need more exposure to it to restore my ability. Besides, you kids confirmed that my plan to eliminate the powers of everyone else has already begun working.”
“I’m not so sure,” I said. “We also think that the Red Menace might be using his new potato chips to accomplish the same thing.”
“The Red Menace?!” Professor Brain-Drain reacted with alarm. “I drained the Red Menace of his intelligence ten years ago. He shouldn’t b
e able even to tie his shoes.”
“Maybe your power worked as well on him as it did on me,” I proposed.
“You’re in no position to be tweaking me, boy,” Professor Brain-Drain hissed menacingly. “If people are losing their powers, it’s because of what I’m doing to this meteorite.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” I shrugged. “The Red Menace has used his power to convince everyone to switch to these bland Pseudo-Chips that the Amazing Indestructo is producing. And since everybody started eating them, powers have begun to vanish. Even AI has lost his power.”
“Really?” Professor Brain-Drain perked up warily. “The imbecile is no longer indestructible? What a delightful development! Who else has been affected?”
“You really need to get out and buy a newspaper,” I suggested. “It started with just a few people, but it appears to be spreading. Mayor Whitewash is calling for calm, but no one is listening to him anymore.”
“Indeed?” Professor Brain-Drain lit up even further at this comment. He was recovering rapidly from his earlier disappointment. “He’s lost his power, too. That can’t bode well for the buffoon with an election drawing near.”
“His only opponent is a pumpkin,” I informed him. “I think his job is safe.”
“Don’t be so certain.” The Professor began to chuckle. “You’ve given me a marvelous idea.”
“Well, since your mood has improved so much, could it possibly involve letting us go?” I asked, not really expecting a yes to that question.
“Oh, definitely not,” he replied cheerfully. “You know far too much. And since I can’t yet drain that knowledge from your brains, I’ll have to find another way of silencing you.”
I don’t know what Professor Brain-Drain’s “another way” was going to be, since the very moment the words left his mouth, a tongue—a very long and unexpected tongue—lashed out, wrapped itself around one of the handles of his colander, and yanked it right off the Professor’s head. The second his method for controlling the Crush-staceans was gone, the claws that held me and my teammates opened. We didn’t waste the opportunity.
“Run for it!” I hollered as Professor Brain-Drain howled in frustration.
“Tadpole, you still have your power,” Plasma Girl said with an outpouring of relief as she watched him whip the stainless steel strainer at least fifty yards away.
“Yeah, and I’m glad I kept it a secret,” he responded as he reeled in his tongue. “Now let’s get out of here.”
“But how?” Stench asked. “Brain-Drain will be back in control of those crab things before we can escape.”
“I have an idea,” I shouted. “Quick, over this way.”
I led my teammates toward one of the rowboats that the Crush-staceans were using to haul away the chunks of meteorite they chipped off. One of the small boats had just been unloaded and we all jumped into it.
“Stench, I hope you have enough strength left to row us out to the middle of this stream,” I said. “You need to get us there, and fast.”
Back on shore Professor Brain-Drain was rushing to retrieve his colander. Even as Stench picked up the speed of his stroke, I saw the Professor place his stainless steel headgear back atop his noggin. Seconds later, the Crush-staceans regained life. Just as they began to move toward us, I felt the strong central current grab hold of the boat, and we were soon rushing away from the cavern. There was no need to even row, and an exhausted Stench stopped trying.
Back on the shore, Professor Brain-Drain jumped up and down in a rage.
We didn’t have long to savor our victory, however. The speed of the river was increasing dramatically, and we soon found ourselves being whisked toward a dark, low hanging cave that the entire river was rushing into.
“HELLLLP!!” Plasma Girl screamed. And then her voice dropped away dramatically, and I felt us plummet into nothingness. If only I could see!
As if in answer to my wish, our boat burst out of the darkness and into a different chamber that was bright with phosphorescent crystals. The river was so narrow now that it was moving at a frightening speed. The channel that the river had dug over millions of years twisted one way and then another; left to right; backward and forward.
“I think I’m gonna puuuuuke,” Tadpole wailed.
A moment later we shot out of the chamber and into a tunnel with concrete walls. We were now someplace man-made. The important thing was we had escaped the Carlsbark Caverns.
Our boat began to slow, and when I saw a stone ledge protruding slightly into the stream, I instructed Stench to take up the oars again and maneuver us toward it. He succeeded but not without difficulty.
“Where are we?” Plasma Girl asked nervously as we got out of the boat.
“My guess is that this is the Superopolis water supply,” I answered. “If we kept going, I’m sure we would end up in the Ornery Ocean.”
“No thanks,” Tadpole said with a snort. “But how do we get out of here?”
I figured this must be some sort of maintenance platform, which meant there had to be an exit nearby. I began feeling around and soon found the steel rung of a ladder.
“Here we go,” I said. “It’s time for a climb.”
And climb we did. It felt like we scaled hundreds of feet before I finally bumped my head against a metal plate that I managed to budge free. We clambered up through a manhole and found ourselves in the middle of the Greenway.
I looked back at Crater Hill, now off in the distance. It was no longer a mystery to me how it had gotten its name. And then it hit me. How did it get its name? No one, at least until now, had had any idea that the hill was formed by a meteorite resting in a sixty-five- million-year-old crater. Or so I had assumed. But whoever had given the hill its name had obviously known as well. The question was already gnawing at me. Who could that person have been?
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Normalopolis
The moment I arrived at school on Monday, I knew that the powers outage had spread to nearly everyone. Even Tadpole had lost his power.
“I just woke up this morning like this,” he said panic-stricken as he kept trying to stick out his tongue. It went no farther than anybody else’s.
“It has affected all of us,” Plasma Girl added with concern in her voice. “But why? We stopped eating AI’s Pseudo-Chips days ago! Maybe Professor BrainDrain is behind everybody’s power loss.”
“I just don’t know,” I said, truly baffled. “We have two major supervillains, either of whom could be responsible for this catastrophe. But if it’s the Red Menace, none of you should be affected. And if Professor Brain-Drain is correct, his power should be fully functional, yet it’s not.”
“My head hurts just thinking about it,” Halogen Boy fretted.
“They can’t both be right,” I whispered under my breath. “But on the other hand they may not both be wrong.”
I was still trying to put that idea together as we entered the classroom and found a scene I never would have thought possible.
It was a room full of completely ordinary kids. The Human Sponge’s head was no longer porous—although the skin she had now looked like it was headed for trouble in the acne department. Somnia was fully awake. Cannonball kept bumping up against the Quake as if he was trying to knock her over. And she kept hitting him back, but with nothing even close to the bone-rattling power she used to be able to muster. It was sort of enjoyable watching the two creeps beating each other up.
Puddle Boy was no longer creating puddles under his desk. Instead, he was producing one on top of it. Only this time it was just ordinary tears as he bemoaned the loss of a power that, if I were him, I’d be happier without.
Lobster Boy actually seemed a little relieved, which I guess made sense now that he knew he had company. Even as Sparkplug tried in vain to poke him with an electrical charge, he just sat there unfazed.
“All the fizz has gone out of my life!” I heard Little Miss Bubbles complain to Plasma Girl as we took our seats. She did in fact loo
k drab and dispirited, without a hint of bubbliness about her—assuming that’s even a word.
“I feel the same,” Plasma Girl said as she sat down.
“Hey, who’s the new kid?” Tadpole asked. A boy we had never seen before entered the room and walked over to the far row where he took a seat in front of a very unlimber-looking Limber Lass. “He’s taking Foggybottom’s seat.”
“I think that is Foggybottom,” I replied. “We’ve just never gotten a good look at him when he wasn’t encased in a cloud.”
On his right sat Transparent Girl, who I could also see well for the very first time. She turned toward me and my eyes went wide. Despite the worry on her face, Transparent Girl was—surprisingly—pretty! Her behavior has always been so nasty that I just assumed she was as unattractive as her personality. I couldn’t help but stare at this unexpected revelation.
“What are you gawking at?” I heard Plasma Girl’s voice a fraction of a second before her hand smacked me alongside the head. “Just because you can see her now doesn’t mean she won’t still try every underhanded trick in the book to beat you in next week’s election.”
Thankfully, Melonhead arrived just then causing a distraction. To my amazement, he didn’t look the least bit different.
“Greethingth, voterth,” he said without enthusiasm. There was no spray of juice or seeds. Yet he was still shaped like a melon and had the markings of a watermelon running vertically up to the rounded point of his head. I guess that his appearance was just a natural part of who he was.
Miss Marble followed right behind him, looking grumpier than I had ever seen her. She took her seat and then something miraculous happened. We all became quiet, waiting for her to speak. She was as surprised as anyone.
“Well, something has finally occurred to leave you kids tongue-tied,” she said. The moment the words were out of her mouth, the spell was broken. Practically every student in class raised his or her hand and began shouting questions simultaneously.
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