Smek for President

by Adam Rex

  Stickyfish players stood and stared at us, and whispered to one another. One of the referees came up and gave J.Lo and me yellow flags. The crowd was cheering, a fog of sound.

  Then that now-familiar electronic voice cut suddenly through the fog.

  “J.LO! I AM COMING FOR YOU, WORLD KILLER!”

  I groaned. “Good of him to warn us, I guess,” I said, wobbling to my feet. Bill zipped about, looking at all the people. I peered around us and saw field, and players and stands, and some dull orange cylinders in the breezeways where the stands exited into the streets.

  “C’mon,” I said, yanking J.Lo along toward one of the breezeways. The Boov in the seats seemed pretty psyched to be seeing the Squealer. A few booed.

  “Ignore them,” I said, and pulled J.Lo over to the nearest orange cylinder. This garbage can was bigger than the ones in the palace—more of a Dumpster than a wastebasket.

  “We can no hide in there,” said J.Lo. “We will get sucked downward to the chompers.”

  “Trust me,” I said, and hopped inside the garbage tunnel, pulling him down after me.

  SIXTEEN

  This tunnel was so wide that it was hard not to get going too fast. I stretched out my legs and tried to put the brakes on with the rubber soles of my shoes. But then my feet actually got hot and I had to let us go into free fall again until they cooled down, so that was a pain. Plus all the screaming.

  “AAAAA­AAAAA­AAA­AAAA­AAA­AAA­AA­AAAA­AAAA­AAA WE ARE GOING TO DIE NOW,” J.Lo said unhelpfully.

  And I guess I could see how he’d think that when our tunnel sucked us to the right and then straightened out again and we could hear the crisp metal chomp of the chompers getting louder. I jammed my feet against the sides again, but we barely slowed. Bill flew on ahead and sprayed us with bubbles as we rounded another bend. Through all that carbonation I could just barely see the chomper’s sharp trap opening and closing in front of us.

  But I still had one of the assassin’s guns, right? So I aimed to make a big cavity in those teeth.

  “Bill!” I shouted. “Out of the way!” And when he moved, I fired. But nothing happened. I fired again.

  “Why isn’t this working?!” I screamed.

  “You have been to firing it a lot!” said J.Lo. “May be out of charge!”

  I pulled the trigger again and again, then banged the whole gun a few times against the tunnel walls, and the chompers were about to take off my legs when I fired one final time and we dropped twenty feet into a pile of gray slop.

  I looked up.

  “Got ’em,” I said, jerking my chin above us at the big hole I’d made and the scraps of teeth that were left, jawing uselessly at nothing. “Good plan, amirite?”

  “Meh,” said J.Lo.

  “Any landing you can walk away from,” I began.

  “Cannot walk. Stuck in slop.”

  * * *

  Turned out we could walk, but barely.

  “I want ONE HUNDRED showers,” said J.Lo.

  I’ve never really believed in hell, pardon my language. God has to have a better plan than an all-or-nothing reality game show. But if you wanted to imagine hell, you could do worse than trudging knee-deep through a hot subterranean swamp of liquid garbage while a thousand rusty metal mouths bite and bite endlessly above you.

  “How far do you suppose we were from the palace when we crashed?” I asked.

  “Mmmmaybies three miles.”

  “And how far do you think we have left?”

  “Also three miles.”

  It was a long time before we saw Funsize’s death-ray pagoda in the distance. Bill scouted ahead to have a look at it.

  “There,” I said. “That’s where he lives. See? He has solid garbage around his place ’cause the nearest chomper doesn’t work.”

  “This is my life now,” said J.Lo. “I am all jazzed at the promise of solid garbage.”

  “Okay,” I panted. “You’d better let me approach first, J.Lo. You’re not exactly his favorite person—”

  But just then Bill returned and spelled something complicated in the air above us.

  “What did that say?” I asked.

  “Hm. It said that this Funsize is no at home.”

  Then the garbage rumbled, and shifted, and the periscope of Funsize’s little submarine sprouted up between us.

  Through the periscope his happy, muffled voice said, “It is you!”

  We stepped back as the whole contraption surfaced and the bubble retracted.

  “Yeah, hi, Funsize,” I said, “it’s me—”

  But the little Boov drew up to J.Lo with anxious fingers. “The Squealer,” he whispered. “Right here in my home!”

  “Yes hello,” said J.Lo, waving.

  Funsize was actually a bit shorter than J.Lo, now that I saw them together. I couldn’t believe I’d once thought this weird little person was the assassin. But still—

  “Uh,” I began, uncertain. “Now I know you’re upset with J.Lo, Funsize, but I think—”

  “Upset by the Squealer? Well, yes—once,” he admitted, taking J.Lo’s hands. “But I heard you on the news. You were just a simple maintenance Boov. A Boov who made a mistake, and wanted to fix it. It is just like my story! You are me!”

  “Aha,” said J.Lo. “Okaythen.”

  “And soon you will be president HighBoov! It is very exciting. Come,” he said, leading J.Lo by the wrist. “Come to the pa-GOH-da.”

  It was easier going here, where the garbage wasn’t slop. Funsize’s submarine was only a one-person vehicle, but he piloted it alongside us with the top open.

  “Soooo, Funsize,” I said, trying to choose my words delicately. “This mistake you made—the one that got you sent here in the first place—do I want to know what it was?”

  Funsize got a far-off look. “I loved...too much,” he sighed.

  So the answer was no, I didn’t want to know what it was.

  J.Lo craned back to look at Funsize’s home.

  “Hm,” he said. “Death ray.”

  Funsize clasped his hands and stepped forward. He was as big-eyed as a puppy. “Do you like it?”

  “An interesting design,” J.Lo said, nodding. “But how could you power such a thing?”

  Funsize waggled his hands. “I used one of the digger robots and tapped into the fiery core at the center of the moon!”

  “Whoa,” said J.Lo, impressed. “Hm. Now that is an interesting idea.”

  “Funsize,” I said, “my name isn’t Grace. It’s Gratuity. But you can call me Tip. I know that’s stupidly confusing and I’m sorry about that. Also, I lost your hoverbutt.”

  “It is okay. I have two others.”

  Funsize gave J.Lo a tour of his house. I was only interested in getting clean, so he showed me how his submarine doubled as a sort of dishwasher for people. After I was dry, I reentered the pagoda.

  J.Lo was saying, “But I do not want to be president HighBoov. I do not want the power.”

  “And that is just why everybody loves you!” said Funsize, bouncing in his chair. “Plus they saw on the NewsFeed the way Captain Smek tried to have you assassinated. To keep you from talking the truth!”

  “Oh, man,” I said, coming in. “That guy was working for Smek?”

  Funsize shrugged. “It is what everyBoov thinks.”

  “Can they elect you anyway?” I asked J.Lo. “Even if you don’t want it?”

  “I do not know. But I will not let them find me. I am going to stay here and work on my time machine.”

  I winced. But Funsize nearly fell off his chair, he was so happy.

  “You will live with me!” he squealed. “We can make garbage farts to sleep in!”

  I touched my translator. “That should have been ‘forts,’ right?”

  “Sadly, no,” said J.Lo.

  “Sooo,” I said, “I thought the time machine idea was dead. Needed too much energy.”

  “Ahyes! We have been talking, Funsize and I. The moon’s core can fuel my time machine
, so long as you do not mind me stealing power from your death ray, Funsize.”

  The garbage Boov waved a hand. “Oh, I was probably going to dismantle it,” he said. “A death ray in the home is more likely to be used against a loved one than on your enemies anyway. Statistically.”

  I took a breath. “This plan...doesn’t sound like it would put us any closer to getting home,” I said.

  I was feeling like a rubber band. I was feeling like a rubber band stretched all the way from Earth to this pagoda, and every time I thought it was time to snap back home, it got pulled just a little farther away. And I was going to break, I swear I was.

  “Actualies,” said J.Lo, “if the trip is successful, it will be liketo you never left!”

  I wasn’t ready to deal with this, so I said, “Hey, Funsize, do you have any idea if Dan Landry is still staying in the palace?”

  “It is what they say on the NewsFeed, yes.”

  “Okay, well, I totally wouldn’t blame you if you said no, but: Can I borrow another hoverbutt?”

  “Heh,” said J.Lo. “Hoverbutt.”

  SEVENTEEN

  Funsize didn’t know where exactly Dan Landry’s quarters would be. But the gossip feeds were buzzing with the rumor that Landry and Smek were going to run together to counter the threat of a J.Lo presidency, so he suggested I might find both of them in the Oval Office.

  It was a good instinct. As Bill and I neared the lid of the garbage can in Smek’s office, I could already hear their stupid voices.

  “One thing I cannot budge on is my role as top commander,” Smek was saying. “We cannot share this.”

  Landry harrumphed. “Well, I can’t see how it’s a co-presidency if one of us is claiming some of the power all for himself.”

  “But can you imagine the Boovish armies following a human into battle, now? It is madness.”

  “Hmm. I guess I wouldn’t mind you being commander in chief if I get to appoint all the judges.”

  “Hoo! You are wanting to appoint judges? You’re welcome to that basket of headaches.”

  “Say,” said Landry, “will there be much vetoing? I think I’d really like to veto something.”

  Smek let out a happy sigh. “Vetoes are the best.”

  I figured I’d heard enough of that, so we ducked back down the tunnel and up the next closest garbage can, which I figured would be in the waiting room next to the secretary’s desk.

  The secretary was already gone for the day, but the waiting room wasn’t entirely empty. Emerson sat in one of those sticky chairs, reading the Ladies’ Home Journal. And not reading it too closely, I guess, because he noticed me right away.

  He squinted. “Hello?” he said. “Is there...are you in the garbage can?”

  I pushed up the lid and climbed out, lugging the hoverbutt behind me. “Hey,” I said. “You’re Emerson, right?” I watched the door to Smek’s office as I joined him by the chairs and potted plants.

  “You’re the girl from the TV.”

  “Gratuity. My friends call me Tip.”

  “You and that Boov are the real ones who saved the Earth, instead of my dad.”

  “Uh, yeah, I guess. Sorry.”

  Emerson sank deeper into his chair and shrugged, like he hadn’t figured out how he felt about it yet. “Is that a bee?”

  “His name is Bill,” I said.

  The door behind me opened and Landry entered reception, saying, “Okay, talk soon,” over his shoulder. The door closed behind him, and he stopped cold when he saw me. I beamed him a smile, but my smile was, like, deflected by powerful force fields and ended up under a chair somewhere.

  “Gratuity Tucci,” he said, and straightened his shirt cuffs. “It’s been a while. How’s your mother?”

  “Good,” I said. “Actually...probably angry. Probably so angry she’s setting things on fire with her mind. Which is why I was hoping to talk to y—”

  “Your little friend is making this quite the exciting race!” said Landry. He was already on the move, so Emerson fell in behind him, and Bill and I fell in behind Emerson. “What were you and Lucy calling him in Arizona? JayJay? Back when he was your brother?”

  We were walking across that open skywalk to the elevator. I felt very exposed. Now that J.Lo had explained everything on live TV, I wasn’t sure if we were in the clear.

  “He’s...still my brother,” I said. “And he goes by J.Lo.”

  “J.Lo?” Emerson repeated.

  Landry smirked. “Well, J.Lo is causing a lot of trouble for New Boovworld. Disrupting the electoral process. It’s a two-party system. He should drop out.”

  “What?” I almost fell off the walkway. “He doesn’t even want to be president! He’s just telling the truth!”

  “Is he? One Boov doesn’t get to just decide what is true and not true, Gratuity. We have polls for that. I mean, why should we trust anything he says? He’s been in jail. He has an arrest record. Where did he even come from, anyway?” Landry paused, thinking. “You know, I don’t think either Smek or J.Lo was born in this solar system.” He bit his lip. “Wonder if I could get any traction out of that.”

  I got between them and the elevator. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t come here to fight. I...actually need a favor.”

  “Aha. And this is you buttering me up, is it?”

  “I’m kind of having trouble getting home. I was wondering if I could get a ride when you guys go back to Earth.”

  Landry squared his shoulders. “Well, until the voters have their say, I can’t tell you for certain that we are going back to Earth.”

  You could see this catch Emerson off guard.

  “But...” I said. “C’mon, though. There’s no way you’re ever winning that election.”

  “He might!” Emerson said, red-faced. “He deserves to, because...” The boy trailed off and looked up at his dad. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t come up with anything.”

  Landry ignored his son. Ignored him with an ease that only comes from lots of practice. I missed Mom.

  “Make you a deal, Gratuity. I’ll send you back. I’ll send you back to Mother tomorrow! If you go on TV and say that J.Lo’s whole story of teleporting and cat cloning is a lie.”

  I kind of recoiled. But he rounded his palms around my shoulders, patted my back with his fingers.

  “This is a serious offer, Gratuity. There’s no one coming from home to get you, no regular New Boovworld–to-Earth flights waiting to take you back, but I can make it happen. Just go on TV, say that it was your pal Dan Landry who turned back the Gorg. You’ll do it, if you really believe in truth.”

  I frowned. “That...makes no sense.”

  “Sure it does—if the truth’s as strong as you say, then a little bending can’t hurt it.” He straightened. “You think about it. We’re in room 4-440 when you’re ready to talk. Come on, Emerson.”

  Emerson followed him into the elevator, and they both turned—Landry gazing stoically over my head at a Dan Landry Tomorrow or whatever, Emerson squinting like he was trying to decide whether he was going to call me Tip or not. Then the doors closed and we were alone on the catwalk.

  “Come on, Bill,” I said, and I turned to go back down to the garbage pile, which was suddenly not the grossest place I’d been today.

  EIGHTEEN

  I went back into the pagoda through the front door, but nobody was around. Funsize had mentioned a basement, so I poked around until I found the door. It was set flush into the central pillar, covered by a girlie poster.

  I looked at Bill. “You gonna be offended if I want to go talk to J.Lo alone?” I asked.

  Bill was still for a moment before answering.

  YES.

  “Come on,” I said. “It’s nothing against you. It’s just that I’ve known J.Lo a long time, and what I’m about to ask him...it’s delicate. I think it’ll be better to ask him in private.”

  BATHROOM, said Bill, because that was one of the only words I could read.

  “Right. Private like a bathroom.”


  Another pause.

  NO, said Bill, bigger than usual, and he turned to fart some confetti at me before buzzing away.

  I watched him go. “Yeah, that seems about right,” I sighed, and opened the door.

  Inside the hollow pillar was a winding ramp, and I followed it around and around and downward and now I was dizzy and had to spend a minute propping myself up against the wall. Then around and around and ever downward until I bottomed out and passed through a second door into a vast cavern beneath the trash.

  The pillar was connected to massive cables that snaked like anacondas across a floor of metal grating to an open pit, where J.Lo and Funsize were working.

  It was super hot down here, and stale. A dusky red glow rippled up from the pit. I walked over the metal floor, and J.Lo raised his head.

  “You are back! Comesee. We are making top-quality progress.”

  J.Lo had the makings of a dense cube of tubes and shapes with two straps so he could wear it like a backpack. One tube in particular spooled out to a medium-sized gray thing that J.Lo was poking with tiny pink things.

  “Funsize was just telling me about the ladyBoov he used to work with—”

  “Yeah, hey—Funsize?” I said. “Can I have a minute alone to talk to J.Lo about something? Sorry.”

  “Oh!” said Funsize. “Yes.”

  “Sorry.”

  “No, it is good. I should be checking on my muffins anyways.”

  He got up and walked to the pillar. I heard the door open and close behind me.

  “J.Lo,” I said.

  I had a serious tone, and he stopped his tinkering to look at me.

  I said, “Please don’t do this.”

  He lowered his hands. “Do not do whatnow?”

  “Don’t make a time machine. Don’t go back and cancel your signal to the Gorg. It...” I puffed a fake little laugh through my nose. “It won’t even work. Time travel never works.”