Beware the Ninja Weenies

by David Lubar

  “Stop!” I shouted at the globe. That was stupid. It couldn’t hear me. The snow in the globe swirled in every direction. The air around me swirled with snow. It looked like it was going to snow for a long time.

  I heard another crash. People were shouting and crying.

  I had to stop the snow. I lifted the globe high above my head, then hurled it down, smashing it on the ground. The globe shattered into a thousand pieces. The contents spilled out, splashing across the driveway, carrying the snowman along like he’d been tossed in a river.

  The snow stopped falling.

  “I did it, Shawn,” I said. “Look—it stopped.”

  Shawn’s reply was drowned out by a roar, like a thousand jet engines or a million freight trains. The sky turned dark as a wall of water raced toward us, higher than the tallest houses. The flood I’d created crashed down like a liquid hammer, knocking me off my feet and sweeping me along the road.

  I tried to swim to the surface, but it seemed impossibly beyond my reach. I knew I’d never make it. As I remembered the tiny snowman being washed across my driveway, I wondered how far the flood would spread, and how far away it would carry me.

  THE IRON WIZARD GOES A-COURTIN’

  There is an old saying about having too many irons in the fire. It used to make sense, back when pieces of iron were commonly heated in fires by blacksmiths. That was a long time ago.

  There’s an even older saying: Be careful what you wish for. That one makes as much sense now as it did back then, because people often make wishes without thinking about the consequences.

  Far back, even earlier than when either of those sayings was first uttered, there lived a princess of extraordinary beauty and uncommon brilliance. Her name was Lendina, and she had a secret. She also had dozens of suitors who wished for her hand, both because of her beauty, and because anyone who marries a princess becomes a prince. At a time when most people had little to eat except for moss and frogs, princes enjoyed a very nice lifestyle.

  On the first day of spring, the traditional day in the Kingdom of Wellandia for seeking hands in marriage, fifteen knights, five dukes, two peasants, and one wizard set out for the castle of King Harlis.

  Only the wizard arrived at his destination. All of the other suitors met with various sorts of accidents. Strangely enough, all of the accidents seemed to involve unpleasant encounters with some form of iron. The knights who were dressed in armor or chain mail had been squeezed or constricted in ways that are best left undescribed unless one has a fascination with the grinding of meat. The fates of the other travelers were no less unpleasant—especially those who stumbled into pits filled with iron spikes, or those who were struck by iron orbs that rained from the sky like merciless hailstones.

  “I come to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage,” the wizard said when he was led into the great hall of the castle to meet King Harlis.

  “Others have perished facing the trials she places before them,” the king said. “For five springs now, suitors have come, and for four springs, they have failed to win her hand.”

  There was a hint of a smile on the king’s lips. Although he was, for the most part, a kind and gentle ruler, he enjoyed a bit of clever perishing on occasion—especially if the perishing happened during a beautiful spring day. His own rise to power hadn’t been achieved without a dash of excitement, a scattering of lost limbs, and a handful of severed heads.

  “Others don’t have control over the elements of the earth,” the wizard said. “Behold.” He pointed to the floor. A large stone at his feet shimmered, then turned to iron. Next, he pointed to a lance mounted on the wall. With a shriek of metal against metal, the lance tied itself into a knot.

  “Impressive,” the king said. “You have my permission to seek my daughter’s hand.” Still smiling, he rose from his seat and left the great hall. His smile grew larger, and became a laugh before he reached his chambers.

  A moment later, Princess Lendina entered and took a seat. “You wish my hand in marriage?”

  The wizard bowed low. “I do. Your beauty surpasses even the most amazing tales that have spread across the kingdom. And you could not choose a better suitor to be your prince. I am the most powerful wizard in the land.” He made mystical, magical gestures in the direction of another weapon on the wall.

  “There’s no need for demonstrations,” the princess said. “I can tell that you are powerful. But are you powerful enough? My prince must be able to protect me against all dangers.”

  “I am truly powerful enough,” he said.

  “We’ll see. I will have you face one test that will challenge both your powers and your courage. If you pass, you may have my hand in marriage.” She rose from her seat. “It will take time to prepare the test. Come to the northern courtyard tomorrow at sunrise.”

  “I’ll be there,” the wizard said.

  The princess went to talk with the royal blacksmith, who knew all about bellows and fire, and with the royal tutor, who was well versed in all matters related to the elements of the earth. The blacksmith and the tutor went right to work, constructing the test. They also smiled frequently.

  At sunrise the next day, the princess waited at the courtyard. Extending in front of her was a walkway, forty paces long, lined with a brick wall on either side. The far end of the walkway contained a fire of small branches and twigs. With each pace, the branches grew larger and the fire grew hotter. After ten paces, the fire was fueled by logs. Ten paces beyond that, the fire was fed with coal. The last ten paces were also fed with coals. But in that stretch, men stood ready at a series of bellows that would pump air through holes in the wall, stoking the flames to even greater heat.

  The wizard approached. “I am ready for the challenge,” he said.

  “Walk along the path I have laid out,” Princess Lendina said. “Reach me, and you shall win my hand.”

  “And so I shall,” the wizard said.

  “Oh, there’s a rule you must obey,” the princess said. “Until we are wed, you must vow never to use magic when we are close enough to touch hands.”

  “This I vow,” he said.

  The wizard stared at the fire for a moment, as if making calculations. Then he raised his hands, whispered ancient words, and cast his most powerful spell.

  His whole body turned to iron. But it was iron that was jointed where human bone was jointed. The iron bones were layered with iron muscles and iron tendons. All of this was covered with iron flesh.

  The iron wizard took a step, and then another. He walked across the fire of twigs and branches as if he were strolling through a meadow of buttercups. He passed through the log fire with equal ease. As he moved through the coal fire, his iron skin flushed with tinges of red. When he reached the hottest, coal-fed, bellows-stoked stretch, he glowed a cherry red. So intense was the heat that the air around him rippled.

  He moved more slowly with each step, as if the spell took greater concentration as the temperature rose. He walked the last ten paces at barely a crawl. Finally, he moved beyond the fire, reaching the waiting princess.

  “Well done,” she said. “But remember your vow.” She extended her hand toward him, as if to remind him not to use magic when they were close enough to touch.

  The wizard raised his arms, casting off the spell that had turned him to iron.

  Alas, he released the spell when his iron skin was still glowing. Red-hot iron will eventually cool. Red-hot skin does not fare so well. The wizard had barely enough time for a short scream before his flesh was turned to cinders.

  The princess wrinkled her nose and stepped back. Each year, the first day of spring seemed to bring a more powerful, and more stupid, wizard seeking her hand. They killed off worthy suitors, and they made a mess of the castle, bending perfectly good lances with their ridiculous spells, and showing off in all sorts of destructive ways.

  Princess Lendina hated wizards. That was her secret. But she’d never tell. The iron wizard might have guessed this secret at the very
last instant of his life. But he’d never tell, either.

  FORTUNATE ACCIDENTS

  Somewhere between the time he went flying over his handlebars and the time he landed helmet-first on the pavement twenty yards away, Keaton realized he’d messed up.

  Shoulda looked …

  That was his last thought before he woke up in the hospital. Now he thought, Where am I?

  He had a needle in his arm, attached to a thin plastic tube. His eyes followed the tube up to a bag of clear liquid hanging from a metal stand. There were wires attached to his chest with sticky pads. It felt like there might be more wires on his head. Behind him, he heard a beep that seemed to match the rhythm of his thumping heart.

  A motion caught his attention. A man stood by the door, but he wasn’t dressed like a doctor. He was wearing a suit.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Okay, I guess. Was I in an accident?”

  “You rode your bicycle right in front of my car. There was no way I could avoid hitting you.”

  Keaton wasn’t sure whether he should apologize, so he didn’t say anything. People could get pretty upset if their cars were scratched or dented. He knew that from experience.

  “You’re very lucky,” the man said. He swept his hand around. “I have my own medical facility. Let’s say it was a fortunate accident that I was the one who hit you, and that you were less than a mile from my estate. I doubt you would have survived a trip all the way to the nearest trauma center.”

  His own hospital? Keaton realized the guy must be rich. Accident victims sometimes got lots of money. He knew that from watching television. Maybe he could get some money for himself—assuming he lived long enough. “Am I going to be okay?” he asked.

  “Except for a few scratches and bruises, you’re just fine now. We had to work fast to reduce the swelling that was endangering your brain, but everything went smoothly. I have the finest medical team in the state. It’s also a good thing you were wearing a helmet.” The man picked up a folder. “I just got the last of the results. Again, it’s all quite fortunate. Despite the impact, none of your vital organs was damaged.”

  Keaton wanted to find out how rich the guy was. “Why do you have your own hospital?”

  “I’ve been sick for a while,” the man said. “Since birth, actually. You can’t tell it from looking at me, but I don’t have a lot of time left.”

  Keaton figured he should say something sympathetic, but he wasn’t good at that sort of stuff.

  “Bad heart,” the man said. “An unfortunate accident of birth. You could say I was born to both fortune and misfortune. I have enormous riches, but a very poor heart.”

  Maybe he’ll leave me some money, Keaton thought. He moaned to let the man know how much he was hurting. Then he said, “Did you call my parents?”

  The man ignored the question. “I expect I’ll be dead in a month or two.”

  A wild thought hit Keaton. He could hear the heart monitor racing as he spat out the words. “You aren’t taking my heart for yourself, are you?”

  The man laughed. “Of course not. I’d have to be terribly evil to do something like that. I assure you—I’m not that evil. I’ve lived a full life. I’m ready for my fate.”

  “That’s a relief.” Keaton tried to calm down. He realized he’d watched too many late-night movies with evil doctors and heartless villains. “Was my bike wrecked?”

  “Totally crushed,” the man said.

  “I guess I’ll need a new one.” Keaton waited for the man to take the hint.

  “It’s difficult going through life with a bad heart,” the man said. “I was never allowed to ride a bicycle. I never got to run and play. No sports. No amusement parks.”

  Keaton tried again. “That bike was really expensive. I guess I’ll have to walk everywhere now. At least, until I can save up enough money for a new one.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” the man said.

  Finally. “So you’ll buy me another bike?” Keaton asked.

  The man pulled something small from his pocket. “You won’t be needing a bicycle.”

  “Why?” The beeps sped up again.

  The man smiled at Keaton, but there was nothing friendly in his expression.

  I have to get out of here, Keaton thought. He looked around the room, in search of the best escape route. The man was standing between him and the door. There were several windows to his right, but Keaton had no idea what floor he was on. He looked over to his left. That’s when he noticed the second bed.

  “Who is that for?” he asked.

  “Oh, that’s mine.” The man crossed the room.

  “Then who is this for?” Keaton pointed at the bed he was on. As he braced himself to dive off the side, he wondered how much it would hurt when he ripped free from the tube and wires.

  “That’s the one my son uses. Unfortunately, he inherited my condition. He’s much sicker than I am.” The man reached up to the bag by Keaton’s bedside. “But thanks to a fortunate accident, I found a young and healthy donor who has a strong heart and the right rare blood type.”

  “Donor?” Keaton asked.

  “Yes, a donor. The odds against it were millions to one. Sometimes you get lucky. Well, actually, I guess I got lucky. And my son got lucky. But you seem to have had an unfortunate accident.” The man injected something into the bag.

  Keaton tried to sit up, but he was far too sleepy to move. The beeps got slower. Much slower.

  “Accidents happen,” the man said. “Thank goodness for that.”

  Those were the last words Keaton heard.

  BIG BANG

  I found Chelsea in her backyard. Actually, she was in the toolshed at the very back of her yard. Her parents didn’t keep much stuff there, so Chelsea had dragged an old chair and table from her basement, and set them up inside. She called it her “think tank.” Chelsea is so smart, it’s scary.

  When I walked up to the door of the shed, she didn’t even seem to notice me. She was staring at some stuff on the table. I waited. She sighed, but still kept her gaze on the table.

  There wasn’t much to see—an old watch, a rubber band, a couple batteries, a scattering of paper clips, some tiny springs that looked like they came from ballpoint pens, and some other junk I didn’t recognize. It reminded me of the random stuff I found each year when I cleaned out my desk on the last day of school.

  I cleared my throat.

  Chelsea frowned, but still didn’t look up.

  I coughed.

  She lifted her head. “Oh … hi, Amanda.”

  “Hi.” I stepped into the shed. The floor was a couple inches above the ground. “What are you doing?”

  “I think I figured it out,” she said.

  “Figured what out?” I asked.

  “It,” she said, as if that tiny word could contain a huge meaning. “Everything. The secret of the universe.”

  I wasn’t sure I’d even understand whatever she was going to tell me, but I had a feeling it was important. For the last three months, she’d been talking about bosons, leptons, neutrinos, and other things I’d never heard of before. Last week, she’d said something about being able to scrape radium—whatever that was—from the hands of very old watches. I waited for her to continue.

  “If I’m right, everything can be explained in an incredibly simple way. And that’s how it should be. The deep truths are simple. So simple that they’re easy to overlook. That’s where physics has stumbled for so long. The researchers are adding layers of complexity when they should have been seeking simplicity. Do you see?”

  She was already starting to lose me, but I nodded. “So, if you’ve figured everything out, that’s great, right?”

  She pointed to the objects on the table. “I need to run an experiment to prove my theory,” she said. “But if I’m right, the chain reaction initiated by my experiment will destroy the universe.”

  I stopped breathing as I tried to think of some way to convince myself I had misheard her.
My mind churned until my lungs ached. Finally, I took a breath. My lungs felt better, but my gut felt worse. “Destroy the universe?”

  “Yeah. It’s an unfortunate side effect.” She pointed to a button with a couple wires attached to it. The other end of the wires was taped to a battery. Between the button and the battery, the wires snaked through an assortment of electronic parts.

  “You call the end of the universe a side effect?” I backed away a step, almost stumbling at the drop-off by the entryway. “Take it apart. Forget about it.”

  “But it’s the answer to everything,” she said. “Do you know how long physicists have been trying to unify the fields? Do you have any idea what a mess the obsession with string theory has made out of theoretical physics? This will clear up everything. I’ll have a couple seconds, maybe even five or ten, to know I’m right before the end comes.”

  “Chelsea, you’re sounding crazy. You can’t do this. Come on. Get out of that shed. Come stand in the sunlight. Feel how wonderful the world is.” I held out my hand and backed away a step, as if trying to coax a puppy out of a box.

  Chelsea stared down at the table, and then back at me.

  “Sunshine, flowers, kittens,” I said. “Ice cream, new clothes, bubble bath. Think of all the great things you’d miss.”

  Chelsea swallowed, nodded, then stood up and walked out of the shed.

  “You can’t destroy the universe,” I said. I couldn’t believe I actually had to explain something that was so obvious.

  “I guess not.”

  “Maybe there’s another way to test your theory,” I said. I figured I could distract her, and cheer her up a bit as I led her away from the shed. “Or maybe someone else will figure all of this out.”

  “Someone else!” Chelsea dived back into the shed. “No! Then I’d never know the truth. Not if they ended the universe. I can’t let someone beat me to the answer. I have to know if I’m right.”