M Is for Mama's Boy

by Michael Buckley

  “What’cha working on, honey?” Mama asked as she climbed up the rope ladder. The goon was behind her carrying a sack of groceries.

  Albert shook his head. He didn’t trust his mother any more than he trusted the devil. “I was on a Captain America message board arguing about the Super-Soldier serum.”

  Mama scowled. “Son, when you rule the world you can read all the funny books—”

  “Graphic novels!”

  “Whatever you call them. You’ll have all the time in the world once you’re in charge. Until then, you really should be working on our doomsday device.”

  Albert could see the hope in his mother’s eyes and it made him angry. “Sorry to burst your bubble, Mama, but there isn’t going to be a doomsday device.”

  “Oh!” Simon said as he fell out of a branch above and landed on his feet. A half dozen of his furry friends followed. “And why is that?”

  Albert gulped but stood his ground. “To operate the machine the way you’re hoping, we need processors and microchips.”

  “They shouldn’t be difficult to acquire,” Simon said.

  “We need millions of microchips,” he said.

  Simon frowned. He seemed to understand that there would be no way to buy that many.

  “We could make more of the smaller models,” Albert said, gesturing to a new one he had recently constructed.

  “So I can rob banks?” Simon roared. “I am not a bank robber. I’m an evil genius. Evil geniuses take over the world. That’s what we do!”

  Mama glared at Albert. “Young man, I’m disappointed.”

  “Listen, maybe we can reconfigure something so it takes over the entire Internet,” Albert stammered.

  “The Internet? Do you think I can bring the world to its knees by seizing control over a bunch of blogs about Twilight and cats playing the piano?” Simon sighed. “Friend, would you show Mr. Nesbitt the extent of my disappointment?”

  The goon stepped forward, his hook gleaming in the sun.

  “Wait!” Mama cried. “Why can’t we just make our own microchips? It might be a pain, but it could be done.”

  “She’s right! Most computer chips are made from silicon,” Albert stammered. “But if we made the chips from gallium arsenide and arsenic we would need only a thousand or so. They could conduct the information the ray gun needs.”

  “I’m aware of arsenic chips,” Simon said. “My former teammates have a supercomputer that uses them. They have a staff of scientists who make them.”

  “So we’ll just get some of this gallium stuff and make our own too!” Mama declared.

  Simon smiled. “Clever woman, your mother. Albert, where would we get those ingredients?”

  Albert looked up at the goon’s hook. “I have no idea,” he said. “They’re both minerals. You’d need to find a huge deposit of them.”

  “I know where you can get this arsenic stuff,” Mama said.

  “Albert’s father, bless his soul, took me on a vacation to Hawaii. While we were there we went on a tour of the volcano they have on the Big Island. The tour guide said it was a natural arsenic source.”

  Simon looked skeptical. “And where would we manufacture the chips?”

  “That will be easy. I know of several shady factories in New Jersey that can process them with . . . enough pressure exerted in the right place,” the goon said.

  “See what a great team we are?” Mama said. “Problem solved.”

  “Should I pack your grass skirt, boss?” the goon asked.

  YOU ARE BECOMING QUITE

  THE CODE CRACKER. EVERYONE

  IS IMPRESSED . . . EXCEPT

  ME, OF COURSE. I STILL HAVE

  SOME SERIOUS DOUBTS ABOUT

  THE THING INSIDE YOUR HEAD

  YOU CALL A BRAIN, BUT THE

  PEOPLE IN CHARGE TELL ME

  YOU HAVE A LOT OF POTENTIAL.

  UNTIL I CAN CONVINCE THEM

  OTHERWISE, I’M FORCED TO KEEP

  YOUR TRAINING MOVING ALONG.

  YOU MIGHT ACTUALLY MAKE IT

  THROUGH MY RIGOROUS TESTS.

  WE SHOULD PREPARE FOR THAT

  HIGHLY UNLIKELY EVENT.

  THE NEXT CODE IS SO

  SIMPLE, YOU’LL WONDER HOW

  ANYONE COULD BE FOOLED

  BY IT, BUT TRUST ME, KID,

  LOTS OF PEOPLE HAVE BEEN.

  IT’S CALLED A TRANSCRIPTION

  ROUTE CODE, AND EVERY GOOD

  SPY KNOWS HOW TO DECIPHER IT.

  FIRST YOU NEED A MESSAGE THAT

  CONTAINS THIRTY LETTERS, LIKE:

  BEANPOLE WAS THE

  GREATEST NERD EVER.

  (THIS, BY THE WAY, IS NO

  SECRET.) NOW, TO PUT IT INTO

  A ROUTE CODE, FIRST

  TAKE OUT THE SPACES:

  BEANPOLEWASTHEGREATESTNERDEVER

  THEN ESTABLISH A

  ROUTE TO READ IT:

  S E T A E R

  T L O P N G

  N E B E A E

  E W A S T H

  R D E V E R

  YOU CAN SEE THE “B” NEAR THE

  CENTER. READ TO THE RIGHT LIKE

  YOU’RE RUNNING A MAZE, THEN UP,

  THEN TO THE LEFT, THEN DOWN,

  AROUND AND AROUND UNTIL

  YOU COME TO THE END.

  WHERE THIS GETS TRICKY

  IS WHEN YOU USE YOUR KEY

  CODE CIPHER CIRCLES. ADDING

  THE TWO CODES TOGETHER

  MAKES THIS MAD DIFFICULT.

  I’VE WRITTEN A SPECIAL

  MESSAGE JUST FOR YOU,

  PAL. THE KEY LETTER IS

  “H”—GOOD LUCK.

  L M F S S L

  L J H D V T

  A B P R U Z

  A Y L M V Y

  Y F Z V H W

  I FEEL LIKE I’M BEATING

  A DEAD HORSE HERE.

  That night, Duncan and his family camped out on the floor of his Aunt Marcella’s home. Aiah and Avery shared an inflatable mattress. The Creature took the couch, and Duncan slept uneasily on a reclining chair. He was fairly certain that without her ray gun, Ms. Nesbitt could do them no harm, but he had no idea if Albert had built a second one, or a third, or a dozen. Who knew if he, or Simon, or the goon was on his way for a second attempt at killing them all. Much of the night Duncan was awake, keeping a close eye on the people he loved the most.

  His cousin Winston lent Duncan some clothes to wear to school the next day, but Winston was nearly half a foot taller than he was. Winston was also a huge fan of hip-hop, so most of his clothing ran XXL. Duncan took a look at himself in the mirror and realized he was dressed much like the cool kids at his school for once. His father lent him his belt to keep his pants from falling to his ankles, and he headed off to school.

  He was certain his new clothes would bring him a lot of unwanted attention. There was nothing worse than a nerd trying to fit in, but much to his surprise few people even noticed. In fact, most of the kids acted as if they didn’t recognize him at all. Even Principal Dehaven, who took great joy in abusing him, walked right past him in the hallway.

  Flinch did a double take when he sat down next to him in class. “Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?” he asked.

  “Listen, I have to see Agent Brand, right away.”

  “We heard all about the attack,” Ruby whispered as she leaned over to join the conversation. “I’ve ordered agents to watch your family. They’ve been instructed to steer clear of computer technology.”

  “I want to talk to Brand. I know my dad yanked me off the team, but I have to do something about Simon and his gang. I can’t just sit and watch you guys fight my battles.”

  Jackson shook his head. “He’s busy prepping for our next mission.”

  “Mission? How come no one told me?” Duncan asked.

  “Duncan, you aren’t on the team anymore,” Matilda replied. “I’m sorry.” She smiled sadly at him. “It’s not the same without you.”

  Suddenly, the foursome
let out an enormous sneeze. Duncan, however, was fine.

  “They turned off my nasal alert?” he cried.

  “Just the alarm,” Jackson whispered. “Benjamin hasn’t gotten around to turning the comlink off yet.”

  Matilda walked over to the window. “You won’t believe this! There’s a man outside juggling chainsaws!”

  As usual, the entire class leaped to their feet, as did Mr. Pfeiffer.

  “Sorry,” Flinch said as he ran to the door. A moment later he and the rest of the team had vanished.

  This wasn’t fair. Duncan had to see Brand right away. He leaped up from his chair and rushed out into the hallway.

  “Mr. Dewey! Where do you think you’re going?” Mr. Pfeiffer shouted, but Duncan ignored him. He raced down the hallway, where he found Mr. Brand in his janitor disguise mopping the floor.

  “Is the mission about Simon?” Duncan demanded.

  Brand scowled and ushered the boy into a broom closet, then closed the door tight.

  “Have you forgotten that missions and spies are not for the general public’s ears?”

  Duncan ignored the scolding. “Yesterday Albert’s mother attacked my family with the ray gun. We were lucky to survive. I can’t just sit in Mr. Pfeiffer’s class while Simon and his gang are running free. You have to let me help!”

  Agent Brand looked taken aback by the boy’s forcefulness. He eyed him closely but shook his head. Then he went to work moving aside a stack of toilet paper rolls and window cleaner. Behind them was a bright red button mounted on the wall. He pushed it hard and Duncan heard the door lock behind him. A panel on the wall slid open and Benjamin popped out and hovered before Brand’s face like a mechanical bumblebee.

  “Good afternoon, Agent Brand,” Benjamin said. “Former agent Gluestick.”

  “Just a second, Benjamin,” Brand replied, turning his attention back to the boy. “Listen, Duncan. I’ve read your file. You told the last director you couldn’t keep such a big part of your life from your parents. He made the foolish mistake of allowing them to know, and now look where we are. They want you out so you’re out. And to be honest, son, I’m not sure you have what I need these days.”

  “Huh? I’m your best agent!”

  “Sure, you are. No arguments. But you’re a little lazy.”

  “What?”

  “Duncan, secret agents have lots of gadgets and technology at their disposal, but the good ones don’t rely on them. When your upgrades were destroyed, you were practically helpless. You second-guessed yourself and me. I need spies who can get the job done with their brains when all the fancy toys are broken.”

  The spy unzipped his uniform and stepped out of it, revealing a sharp black tuxedo beneath. He pulled the mop from his bucket and slammed the head on the floor. Duncan watched as it morphed into a white cane. Brand leaned on it as he walked over to the wall and pressed another red button. From the floor, two metal bars rose up. Brand leaned on them.

  “But this is personal,” Duncan argued.

  Brand shook his head. “Son, saving the world is always personal. But for you, it is also over. Go back to class.” He grasped the bars, the floor fell, and the entire platform sank at an astonishing rate. A moment later, he was gone.

  Duncan rushed out of the closet. “Flinch, can you still hear me?” Duncan called. He muttered to himself, “C’mon. The intercom is still supposed to work!”

  “Gaaarrahgghgh!” sounded in his ear. There was a pause and then, “What’s up, buddy?”

  “I should be going on this mission. You have to help.”

  There was a long pause. Duncan worried the boy would say no, but then he heard, “Go to the gym and hide behind the bleachers. I’ll get you on the ship somehow, but if Brand starts shouting, I had nothing to do with it, cool?”

  “Cool. I owe you, Flinch. Oh, find out what’s in the mission pack and make one for me.” Duncan rushed to the gym, only to see Ms. Holiday locking the double doors at the other end of the room. Sprinting as fast as possible, he raced toward the bleachers, fell to his knees, and slid on the waxed floor until he was safely out of sight. He lay very still, hoping he had not been seen, and when he heard the ceiling retracting he knew it had been his lucky day.

  While the School Bus rose up from below, Duncan watched and waited for the secret passage to open. He wasn’t disappointed. Soon a team of mechanics in orange and scientists in white rushed through the tunnel and quickly went to work refueling the rocket and running diagnostic tests on its engine and landing gear.

  Ms. Holiday directed the work and also double-checked the contents of four black packs that had been wheeled in on a cart. Satisfied, she dropped a homemade cookie into each one, then zipped them up. She then asked an assistant to place them aboard the ship. Agent Brand and the rest of the NERDS entered. Duncan couldn’t hear what was going on, but he could see Flinch had an identical pack in his hand. As discreetly as the hyper boy could, he handed the pack to the assistant, who placed it with the others. Duncan made a mental note to buy his friend a case of whoopie pies as a thank-you.

  Duncan realized it was time to make his move. He crept along the wall behind the bleachers, then stepped into a crowd of busy scientists too preoccupied with tests to notice him. He waited patiently, then followed the assistant as he hefted the black packs up the ramp and through the ship’s door. When the assistant finished storing the bags and departed, Duncan jumped into the compartment where they had been placed and closed the door tight.

  It wasn’t long before he could feel the engines rumbling and then the awesome blast as the ship exploded into the sky. He wished he had a more comfortable seat, but he was just happy to be on the mission, even as a stowaway.

  He sat in the dark for a long time until the door opened. Luckily, Ms. Holiday didn’t even look inside the cabinet as she snatched up the packs and distributed them. Only when she realized there was a fifth pack did she look inside, but Duncan was already slipping it on and racing toward the open door of the rocket.

  “Gluestick!” Agent Brand cried angrily.

  “Duncan, what are you doing?” Ms. Holiday looked shocked.

  Duncan reached into his pack and removed a black helmet. He slid it over his head and flipped up the visor so he could talk. “I’m sorry to disobey you and I know what I’m doing is putting you in a difficult position, but—”

  “Duncan, you don’t have your upgrades!” Ms. Holiday cried.

  “Simon and his gang attacked my family. I can’t wait for upgrades,” Duncan said. As he leaped out into the sky, he thought he saw a proud smile on Agent’s Brand’s face.

  Duncan had no idea what was below him. As he plummeted through the misty clouds, all he could see was a chain of lush green islands that were getting bigger by the second. He counted eight in all and the largest seemed to be directly below him.

  “Hello, everyone,” Duncan said.

  “Gluestick!” Pufferfish cried. “Where are you?”

  “Right above you, I think,” Duncan said.

  “Does Brand know you’re with us?” Jackson asked.

  “He does now.”

  “Excellent!” Braceface laughed. “Glad to have you back.”

  “Gluestick, I order you to stay where you are!” Pufferfish commanded.

  “I’m not sure I can do that,” Duncan said. “I’m about a mile above the ground and falling fast.”

  Pufferfish growled. “You are not a part of this team—”

  “Oh, calm down, Pufferfish,” Wheezer said. “We wouldn’t be NERDS without Gluestick.”

  “Thanks, guys. Now can anyone fill me in on what we’re doing six thousand feet above the Earth?” Duncan asked.

  “Hope you like poi, big guy,” Flinch’s voice said. “We’re going to Hawaii.”

  “What part?”

  “The part with the big active volcano,” Matilda replied. “Simon stole a hoverplane from a base in California and he’s using it to suck something out of the lava. Intelligence has no clue what
it could be.”

  “He’s after arsenic,” Duncan said.

  “To poison people?” Jackson asked.

  “No, he’s building a bigger version of his machine hypnotizer and he needs lots of superprocessors to make it work,” Duncan said. “We use the same kind of chips in Benjamin, only a few of ours equal about ten thousand of what you can buy commercially. To make these chips he needs lots of arsenic, and active volcanoes contain some of the richest arsenic deposits in the world.”

  “See, Pufferfish! Look what we learn when we bring Sticky with us!” Jackson laughed.

  “Well, he better get down here and join us,” Pufferfish grumbled. “He’s not wearing a Wind Breaker. You think his dad was mad before, wait until he finds out his little boy hit the ground going a thousand miles an hour.”

  Duncan spotted four black specs against the blue sky—his teammates below. “On my way!” He tilted his body so he was pointing straight down, and the world suddenly came toward him faster and faster. He was like a human bullet, and in no time was right above his friends. He leveled his body off to allow the wind to slow his descent, then searched for Flinch. The others could have easily helped him get to the ground, but to be on the safe side, he chose his friend with superstrength. Flinch reached out with a free hand and snatched him by the arm. His grip was like a vise.

  “Fancy meeting you here,” Flinch said.

  As they dove, Duncan looked out over the Kilauea crater— the site of one of the world’s most active volcanoes. It must have been several miles in diameter with a thick, black crust covering everything. It was awe-inspiring.

  “I don’t see Simon or a hoverplane,” Duncan said.

  “He’s not down there,” Matilda said. “He’s a few miles south at a place called Pulama Pali. The flow of lava from the volcano actually travels underground through tubes and comes out on the side of a cliff.”