The Great Powers Outage (8 page)

I pulled out one of the bags of Dr. Telomere's X-tra Crispy Chips that I had managed to buy. Framed in a circle, within the overall brand logo, was a smiling potato chip wearing pince-nez glasses, a bow tie, and a derby. He was winking as if he were sharing a secret with me.

“That's Dr. Telomere.” My father chuckled. “Does he look like he could be a real person?”

LI'L HERO'S HANDBOOK

THINGS

DR. TELOMERE

Despite his fragile nature, Dr. Telomere is one potato chip that has
long avoided being crushed or consumed. Earlier, more realistic versions
of the popular advertising icon have steadily changed over the
decades into the simple cartoon figure everyone is familiar with
today. Despite once being able to sing and dance, the character has
been mute now for some time, making it impossible to glean any of
the secrets he may possess.

Considering that Dad had just been fired by a guy who looked like a giant chickpea, I wasn't certain that the answer to that question was so obvious.

“Who owns the business, then?” I prodded.

“The Telomere Trust,” my dad said as we continued to walk. “It's a fund that uses the profits from the business to pay for things for the community.”

“Like Telomere Park,” I said.

“Exactly. The Telomere Trust has done all sorts of good things for the people of Superopolis.”

“I'm sure the Amazing Indestructo is going to be equally generous with his profits,” I suggested sarcastically.

“He's going to make a fortune,” my father agreed with a sigh. “How could he not with such a phenomenal product.”

I cringed as Dad retrieved one of the cans of Pseudo-Chips we had also bought, popped off the lid, and started eating them. How was I going to break him free from the Red Menace's hold? As we arrived home, I remembered that he wasn't the only one I was going to have to rescue. My mom was in the driveway with her own grocery bags full of PseudoChips.

“Thermo! OB!” she shouted. “You're just in time to help me unload the rest of my groceries. I found a roadside stand on my way home that was selling PseudoChips. I figured we could use some more.”

There had to be another hundred cans of chips in the car. With a shrug of resignation, I grabbed a few bags and helped my parents haul them into the house. Dad had put on a big phony smile and I realized that he wasn't ready yet to tell Mom what had just happened to his endorsement deal. I gave him a wink to let him know that she wouldn't hear it from me.

“How was work, Mom?” I asked.

“Oh, the usual,” was all she said.

I've never understood exactly what my mom does at the Corpsicle Coolant Corporation. Whenever I ask, she always just says something about frozen vegetables, which usually is enough to end the conversation.

As I set the bags of chips down on our kitchen counter, I actually hoped we
would
be having some frozen vegetables tonight. The thought of a meal of only Pseudo-Chips wasn't a pleasant one. But that was apparently what was on the menu as Mom poured an entire can into a bowl for my father and then another for herself. As she reached for a third, presumably for me, I stopped her.

“I'll just have these,” I said, holding up one of my bags of Dr. Telomere's.

My parents looked at me as if I had just announced I was quitting school to become a mime. Unsure how to respond, they grudgingly let me proceed. We all sat down at the dinner table with our preferred brands of chips. There was an uncomfortable silence that I decided to break with a question I had been trying to get an answer to all day.

“Mom? Dad?” I began. “Do either of you know anything about the Red Menace?”

“Is that a brand of chewing gum?” my father asked. “It's cinnamony, isn't it?”

I shook my head as both he and Mom stared at each other blankly. It was beginning to dawn on me that nobody in this city had much knowledge or interest in history—unless it directly involved
them
somehow.

“He's a villain,” I supplied them the answer. “He was put in prison fifty years ago and they've just let him out.”

“Well, that was nice of the city,” my mom responded. “He must be very old by now and obviously can't cause any harm. What is his power?”

“He can convince people to do anything he wants them to do,” I said looking them directly in the eyes.

Their vacant expressions told me that I hadn't gotten my point across. “Like switch to a new kind of potato chip, even if it isn't any good,” I added.

“Well, he'll never get anywhere with that.” My dad laughed. “No one could ever convince people to switch from AI's Amazing Pseudo-Chips.”

I dropped my head in exasperation. How was I going to convince my parents that Comrade Crunch/the Red Menace was up to no good? I finished off the small bowl of potato chips in front of me and then excused myself.

“I think I need to go up to my room and lie down for a while,” I announced, only partly feigning exhaustion.

The truth was, I was completely baffled. What was going on with the Red Menace and AI's Pseudo-Chips? I went into my room and flopped onto the bed. Absentmindedly, I picked up a knitting needle that was sitting on my nightstand. It was my one souvenir from my recent trip back in time, and I began tapping it against the side of my head as I thought things through.

What had me flustered was the realization that the Red Menace hadn't broken any laws. He had been paroled from jail, and the Amazing Indestructo had legitimately hired him to promote his new line of potato chips. There wasn't anything prohibiting the Red Menace from using his power to advertise a product. Single-handedly driving Superopolis's most successful company out of business might not have been nice, but it wasn't illegal.

Clearly this had to be a far tamer use of his power than the events of fifty years ago that got him sent to prison for 1,636 years. But what had he done to deserve that sentence in the first place? I needed to know more about him. If only there was someone I could turn to for information.

And then it hit me—literally. I stopped tapping the knitting needle against my head and looked at it. Not only did I know the person best able to reveal the Red Menace's criminal past but I also had the perfect excuse to pay him a visit.

CHAPTER EIGHT

On Pins and Needles

“Okay, I know you guys think I'm overreacting about the Red Menace,” I said to my friends as we left school the next day. “But I think there's someone who can give us all the information we need about him.”

“If you're talking about
Comrade Crunch
, I don't know what your problem is,” Tadpole replied stubbornly.

“Yeah, O Boy,” agreed Stench. “We know you don't like the Pseudo-Chips, but that's no reason to believe that Comrade Crunch is up to anything evil.”

“That's not all . . .” Plasma Girl started to speak but then hesitated. She glanced nervously at the other members of the team.

“What is it?” I demanded. Clearly there was something they were afraid to tell me.

“Well,” she continued haltingly, “it's just that
everyone
loves AI's Pseudo-Chips—except you.”

“And?” I pressed.

“Everyone thinks there's something strange about you because of it,” Halogen Boy added softly.

“And it's messing up our chances in the election,” Tadpole felt compelled to add.

I was struck silent for a moment. All my life people had thought of me as different—for the simple reason that I
am
different. My lack of a power had marked me that way from birth. But I'd had years to get used to it, and so had my friends. So the fact that even they were now expressing doubt really hurt.

“Fine,” I said as calmly as I could. “Just come with me and keep an open mind. If you still feel that way after our next stop, I'll concede the point.”

“Where exactly are we going?” Hal asked.

“We're going to visit the leader of the League of Goodness,” I announced as I produced the knitting needle I had been keeping in my backpack all day.

“The Amazing Indestructo?!” they all exclaimed in unison.

“Why would he do anything to help us?” Plasma Girl said in exasperation.

“And when did he take up knitting?” asked Hal.

“Not the leader of the League of
Ultimate
Goodness,” I corrected them. “I'm talking about the original League of Goodness—before AI took control and turned the group into a bunch of bungling boneheads. We're going to go see Lord Pincushion.”

My teammates had never been officially introduced to the legendary hero, and were excited to meet him. Their mood improved dramatically as I led them to the base of Needlepoint Hill.

“How are we going to get up there?” Tadpole asked as his eyes followed the thousands of stairs that crisscrossed their way up the hill to the mansion that sat atop it. “It would take forever to climb it.”

Tadpole was right, of course. I had climbed it myself just a week earlier. Since then, I had learned of a simpler way.

“Follow me,” I said as I led them around to the other side of the hill. There, partly obscured behind some bushes and trees, was an elevator door. Once inside I pressed the button for the main entrance to Pinprick Manor.

The car rose quickly up the interior of Needlepoint Hill. When it finally came to a stop, the doors opened to reveal a beautifully wood-paneled foyer. And standing there waiting for us was the founder of the League of Goodness himself.

“Good heavens, it's Ordinary Boy,” he said as a smile spread across his face. “I do hope you're not here to disrupt the fabric of space and time again.”

“Not today.” I returned his smile. “I've come to return something that belongs to you.”

“Indeed?” he responded as I held out the knitting needle I had borrowed less than a week ago, my time, but over twenty-five years ago for him. “I was wondering what had happened to that.” Taking the needle from me he examined it briefly and then jammed it into the front of his thigh. My friends' eyes went wide with alarm. Lord Pincushion caught their surprised reactions. “And who are these young heroes?”