by Raymond Bean
“Remember that computer app I created for tech class?” I asked.
“The last time you mentioned it, you were stuck for ideas,” Dad replied.
“Right! But I got an idea when I was trying to get out of my piano lesson the other day,” I explained. “I built an app and presented it to the class yesterday. I put it up for sale on the app store, but I didn’t expect people to actually buy it.”
“This is all from a computer app?” Mom asked. “How can you make this much selling an app?”
“It’s going viral!” Dad exclaimed, sitting at my desk to have a closer look at the data.
“This thing is being downloaded all over the world,” he said. “What does it do, Benji?”
“It makes excuses,” I said, anticipating a reaction from my mom.
“Why doesn’t the number stop spinning?” Mom asked. “It just keeps getting bigger.”
“Because it’s being downloaded so often,” Dad said. “Every time someone buys the app, the number goes up. This is amazing! I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“What does this thing do again?” Mom asked.
“It’s called Excuse Yourself,” I repeated softly.
“How wonderful!” said Mom, giving me a big smile. “So it teaches young people good manners?”
“Uh...not exactly,” I said.
She gave me a stony stare. “You better show me how it works.”
$$$
When Mom downloaded the app to her phone, she clicked around silently for a few minutes. She didn’t look too happy.
“I’m not sure this is appropriate, Benjamin,” she said. “All these people are using your app to get out of trouble. They’re lying!”
“They’re not really lying, Mom,” I assured her.
“Actually, they are,” she said. “You’ve given people a way of getting out of responsibilities in a dishonest way. Last time I checked, that was lying.”
“People lie all the time, Mom,” I said. “They don’t ever really think about how often they’re doing it. Maybe it will help people see the amount of excuses they’re making and change?”
“Nice try, kiddo,” she said. “Why couldn’t you have created something more useful and positive?”
“Mrs. Heart told us we had to create an app that people would want to buy,” I replied. “I didn’t expect it to go beyond my classroom.”
“Hmmm.”
“I was just having fun with it, Mom,” I added. “Who would have thought it would be this popular?”
“Hey, check this out!” Dad interrupted. “Benji’s app is being discussed all over the Internet.”
He was right.
The app had gone viral.
Bloggers and websites all over the globe were writing about it. Some people were saying how great it was. Others were really angry about the idea.
We silently read several of the articles and tried to grasp what was happening.
“I think we should have breakfast and give this a little time to process,” Dad said. “I haven’t even had a chance to look at this miraculous new creation.”
We all sat at the kitchen table. Mom and Dad each played with Excuse Yourself. After several moments of silence, Dad said, “I won’t be able to mow the lawn this weekend because I’m suffering from seasonal allergies.”
“You don’t have allergies!” Mom said, focusing on the app.
“Then, I can’t mow the lawn because I twisted my ankle yesterday,” he said, giving me a wink. “It still feels a little tender.”
Mom picked up on what he was doing. “Very cute, honey,” she said. “Your ankle is fine, and I wish I could say the same for your son’s app.”
“I think it’s interesting,” Dad said, hesitantly.
“And inappropriate,” Mom added.
“I don’t know if I’d say ‘inappropriate,’” Dad responded. “But it’s definitely controversial.”
“Our son has basically created a database of lies people can use to get out of work,” she said.
“True, but it’s up to the individual to decide if they’re going to use an excuse or not.” Dad continued to defend me. “Once they click on the site, they’ve already made the decision to find an excuse. Benji didn’t have anything to do with that.”
Dad held his bowl of cereal in the air. “A chef can’t be blamed for the customer’s hunger,” he said.
Dad added, “The customer is already hungry. The chef only provides the food.”
“Benji isn’t cooking food,” said Mom. He’s cooking up lies. We’ve got a real problem here.”
“Guys,” I interrupted.
“Yes?” Mom asked, annoyed.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” I said, “but I might have just become a MILLIONAIRE!!”
CHAPTER 4
Zillionaire?
The week that followed was completely insane! Every news show, magazine, blog, and tech company wanted to meet me. One company even offered me a job, but we would’ve had to move to California, and Dad has a fear of earthquakes.
I couldn’t believe they’d offered a kid my age a job. My parents and I did interviews, took phone calls, and tried our best to manage all the attention.
My parents were most excited for all the interviews and talk shows. Especially the interview with the news show Your World with Chuck Matthews. They watch it every Sunday night and were thrilled to be on the show. We did the interview on Saturday afternoon. It was on that show’s interview that Mom’s concerns about honesty were really put to the test.
“Are you worried that your son, Benji, has created an app that helps people lie?” Chuck Matthews asked Mom.
Mom froze, but just for a nanosecond. “Well, Mr. Matthews, that’s a question Benjamin and I have discussed a great deal,” she replied. “We’re hopeful that Excuse Yourself is a place where people—”
“What are your plans for the money your son is making?” interrupted Chuck Matthews.
“We’re adjusting to it,” said Dad. “For now, life for Benjamin will remain the same as it always—”
“I hear you have a golden submarine,” said Chuck, turning to me.
“Two of them, actually,” I replied. “The first one sank, so I had to buy a second one to go down and rescue the crew.”
“And you have a private island?” asked Chuck.
I waved my hand. “Just a small one, Chuck,” I said. “Although I have applied for nation status.”
My mom tried to change the subject. “Uh, we feel the app is a good way for Benjamin to connect with the world,” she said.
“Yes,” chimed in Dad. “It’s a way to connect more positively and—”
“What’s this I hear about a space station?” asked Chuck, looking directly at me.
“Space is where it’s at, Chuck,” I said. “And it’s a great place to keep my zoo.”
“Your zoo?” he said.
“I was running out of room on the island,” I said. “Those Tibetan yaks take up a lot more room than you’d think.”
“You have yaks?” asked Chuck.
“For the milk,” I said. “It’s very healthy.”
Then Chuck stared out at his studio audience and said, “I bet I’d like some of that. You know how much I like to yak!”
The audience went wild. They cheered and laughed and even clapped.
Chuck sat back in his chair and smiled at me. I could tell the interview was going well. “So,” he said at last, “you’re a sixth-grade zillionaire?”
“A zillion isn’t a real number,” I pointed out.
“True,” said Chuck, nodding. “But what else do you call a kid with more money than he can count?”
“Generous,” said my mother quickly.
“Thoughtful,” said my father.
“Lucky,” I said. “A
nd very excited about my new space station.”
CHAPTER 5
Greater Good
The next morning, we got a mysterious call from a man named Dr. Snow. Dad talked to him for a while, and then he handed me the phone. I figured it was another interview, or another celebrity, or another pro athlete who wanted to hang out.
“Hi, Benji,” a voice on the other end said. “I’m a researcher and founder of the B.A.D.R. Institute. I’ve been following your story. We have a situation here at the Institute that we feel you might be able to assist with. Are you free to come out and meet us tomorrow night?”
“Hmm, I don’t know,” I said. “Where are you located? Can I get there by nuclear sub?”
“Uh, no.”
“Can I get there by solar-powered rocket ship?”
“No.”
“Can I get there by dogsled pulled by twelve Olympic athletes?” (I can pay for all those things, by the way.)
“No.”
“Wow!” I said. “You guys must be hidden in some supersecret faraway exotic location!”
“We’re fifteen miles down the road,” he said.
“Oh,” I said.
“Our situation is rather dire,” said the man. “We need to meet in person.”
“I’m a kid,” I explained, although I’m sure he already knew. “I have school. Which is also dire. You’ll have to work out the details with my dad.”
I yawned and handed the phone to Dad, and he walked off with it.
Saying “I’m a kid” is an excuse that I came up with on my app. It works in almost every situation with adults.
“What was that all about?” Mom asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “They wanted to talk with me about a problem they have.”
“I think this app is just the beginning of big things for you, Benjamin,” she said. “Promise me you won’t lose sight of who you are.”
“I promise,” I assured her. “Nothing has really changed if you think about it. Well, maybe my clothes. And the private island and stuff. Otherwise, all that’s happened is a bunch of people are downloading the app.”
“When things settle down, we’ll have to sort out what we’re going to do with all that money,” said Mom. “I hope you don’t forget that it’s not all about the Benjamins, Benjamin.”
“What does that mean?” I asked. I couldn’t help smirking a bit because Mom was trying to be cool.
“Isn’t that what people call large sums of money?” she asked. “Don’t they say that in movies?”
“They do,” I said. “And you don’t have to worry. I know it’s not all about the Benjamins, Mom.”
“There are things in the world that matter more than money,” she said. “You saw for yourself the other day how that family was in need.”
“I know, Mom.”
“Did you know I read this morning about an entire town that is in need?” she said.
“How does that happen?” I asked.
“They live in a town called Shiny Desert,” she explained. “It’s way out in the middle of nowhere.”
Mom continued. “The people who live there went for work because a big computer company built its offices out there. They wanted to develop their product in complete secrecy. These people worked there for years and, all of a sudden, the company went out of business. There’s nothing else there, but the people in the town can’t afford to move away.”
“Can your pantry help them?” I asked.
“We’ve sent what we can,” she said. “Other pantries are sending what they can as well, but the town is in big trouble. They’re in the middle of the desert. There’s nothing around for miles.”
“Let’s donate some of the money from Excuse Yourself to help them out,” I said.
“I might just ask you to do that,” she said. “For now, you just make sure the next thing you invent does more than just get people out of trouble. Think about the greater good.”
The greater good? That would be a cool name for an app.
“I won’t be inventing anything new for a while, Mom,” I said. “Besides, I have school tomorrow!”
CHAPTER 6
B.A.D.R. Institute
Fifteen miles from my house was the site of an old airport. I’d always thought the buildings there were abandoned, but it was where the B.A.D.R. Institute was located.
Late the next night, my dad drove me out to meet Dr. Snow. “What do you think they want?” I shouted over the roar of the motorcycle.
“Who knows?” Dad said. “That scientist said he’d have to explain when we got there.”
“It’s a little strange that they want to meet at ten o’clock at night, don’t you think?” I asked. “I researched them on the computer, and I couldn’t find anything. It’s a little weird.”
Dad shrugged. “If it’s weird, we’ll leave,” he said. “No biggie.”
When we arrived, a security guard stood at the entrance to the facility. Dad explained who we were and who we were there to see. The guard’s eye twitched a few times. He looked behind him, shining his flashlight toward the woods.
“Everything okay?” Dad asked.
“That depends,” the guard replied.
“On what?” I asked.
“On your definition of ‘okay,’” he replied.
“I’m not sure what you mean,” Dad said.
“You will soon enough,” the guard said. “Dr. Snow and the others are in building seven, all the way in the back. It’s the only one with a light on.”
The guard turned his attention to the woods. “They’re waiting for you.”
$$$
When we rolled up, Dr. Snow was waiting for us outside. He was much, much, much older looking than I’d expected. Maybe TWICE as old as Dad.
“Mr. Franklin,” Dr. Snow said, as I climbed out of the sidecar. I figured he was talking to my dad until he walked toward me, holding his hand out for a handshake. “Pleasure to meet you.”
I shook his hand and noticed he was glancing toward the woods like the security guard.
“Come on,” he said. “We’d better get inside.”
Inside, a large oval table sat in the center of a massive room. The room looked like an old hangar for airplanes. It had a really high ceiling. There were about twenty people sitting around the table. They looked about the same age as Dr. Snow.
Dr. Snow introduced us to the group and asked us to have a seat.
“I have to say, this is a little strange. Benji and I are a bit confused about why we’re here,” Dad said.
“Understood,” Dr. Snow said, clicking a button on his phone. A large screen lowered from the ceiling and the lights dimmed. “Mr. Franklin, we’ve been following your story. We read the articles about you and think it’s amazing that a local kid is receiving so much attention for his intellect. You’re clearly very creative, and we think you can help us out. Unfortunately, we find ourselves in a particularly sensitive situation.”
I couldn’t remember a time in my life when people were so nice to me. Kids usually gave me a hard time because I’m smart. When I was really young, sometimes I pretended to be confused in class just to fit in with the others. Something was changing though. I felt more proud of being smart and not as embarrassed.
“Who are you guys?” I asked. “I couldn’t find anything online about the B.A.D.R. Institute.”
“Our work is top secret and privately funded,” said Dr. Snow. “Few people know what we do.”
“What does your name stand for?” Dad asked.
“It stands for Bio Advancement of Dinosaur Research Institute,” the scientist explained.
“Before I tell you the specifics,” he continued, “I’ll have to ask you sign this paper stating that you won’t share any of the details we tell you tonight. We’ll have to ask you to sign as well,
Mr. Franklin.” He turned toward my dad.
Dad nodded to me, and we both signed.
“Very well,” Dr. Snow said, collecting the papers. “Do you know what a Troodon dinosaur is?”
“Hmm...didn’t they star in the movie Jurassic Park?” I said.
“We recently obtained rare samples of Troodon DNA,” he continued. “To make a long story short, we’ve managed to clone them.”
He clicked his remote and a holographic image of a dinosaur appeared above us.
“You have living dinosaurs!” I exclaimed.
“You could say that,” a woman across the larger table said. From the expression on Dr. Snow’s face, I could tell he didn’t like the woman very much.
“We don’t have to get into all the specifics, Professor Kent,” Dr. Snow said, interrupting.
“If he’s going to help, doctor, he’s going to need all the details. We don’t have much time,” Dr. Kent replied.
“How does all this involve Benji?” Dad asked.
“As I hinted on the phone last night, we have a situation,” said Dr. Snow.
“Good grief! Just come out with it already,” Dr. Kent shouted. “The Troodon escaped!”
“We have, um, misplaced them,” Dr. Snow corrected her.
“They’re out of their pens, and we haven’t seen them in forty-eight hours! They’re probably still in the woods behind the Institute, but there’s no way to be sure,” Dr. Kent added.
I was still trying to fully comprehend that they had living dinosaurs on the loose. The room was silent, and they were all looking at me.
“I’m not sure what you guys want me for,” I said.
“You created Excuse Yourself. If there’s anyone who can think of a way out of this situation, it’s you,” Dr. Snow said.
Dr. Snow seemed really worried to me in that moment. It was like he was a kid that got in trouble and couldn’t get himself out. Dr. Kent acted a little like his mother (although she obviously wasn’t!).
“You realize I created that app in my sixth-grade tech class?” I said. “I’m not a scientist or anything.”