The Great Powers Outage (10 page)

“Correct.” The Animator beamed. “You're a bright boy!”

I blushed as my friends smirked at me.

“Exactly,” added Lord Pincushion pointedly. “But then he met Captain Radio and everything changed. The Red Menace used his power to gain control of Captain Radio, and then used the captain's ability to broadcast his commands. The power in his voice was just as effective over the airwaves as it was in person, and the majority of the populace quickly fell under his sway.”

“Just as they have now, thanks to his TV commercials,” I added.

“Wait a minute,” Tadpole interrupted. “Are you saying I've fallen in love with these new potato chips just because some guy is using his power on me? That's despicable! I can make my own decisions.”

What Lord Pincushion said had hit at the heart of Tadpole's ego—the belief that
he
was the only one responsible for his actions. I could practically see the gears turning in his head as he got more and more steamed.

“And there you have the simple secret to thwarting the Red Menace's power,” concluded Lord Pincushion. “Thinking for yourself can overcome anyone's attempt to manipulate you—even if it
is
his power. Some people are intelligent enough to never let themselves be taken in,” he said, looking at me, “while others merely need to be shown the light.”

My teammates considered the Pseudo-Chips in front of them. Then Halogen Boy pushed his bowl to the far end of the coffee table.

“They really do taste like sawdust,” Stench added, pushing his bowl away as well. “I feel like an idiot.”

“No, son,” said the Animator kindly, “an idiot is a person who is shown the truth but refuses to believe it.”

“Yes,” agreed Lord Pincushion. “There will always be people who are more concerned with stubbornly holding on to a failed belief than admitting an error. There are no greater fools. Happily, you children are not among them.”

“I'm embarrassed that I fell for it at all,” Plasma Girl admitted.

“Don't be,” Lord Pincushion reassured her. “The Red Menace has a formidable power.”

“And now you all know
how
he is able to do what he does,” added the Animator.

“Yet the bigger question remains unanswered,” Lord Pincushion said with concern. “Exactly
why
is he doing it?”

CHAPTER TEN

A Parade of Lies

What
was
the Red Menace up to? The question that Lord Pincushion had left us with yesterday had been gnawing at me ever since. Near the end of class on Wednesday, I still hadn't come up with an answer. On the bright side, at least things hadn't gotten any worse in my race for treasurer. Transparent Girl had been unusually quiet all day. I should have known it wouldn't last. . . .

Ten minutes before the final bell the Banshee let out a piercing wail.

“Miss Marble!!” she shrieked as we all cringed and covered our ears. “Fingold is dead!”

Fingold was one of the two dozen or so fish in our aquarium. This watery tragedy wasn't exactly a unique occurrence. Our fish routinely took that one-way float to the top of the tank. In fact, part of our fish food fund often went toward buying replacements. Only now the fund was empty, and I knew that if I didn't speak first, Transparent Girl—

“Miss Marble!” she hollered before I could beat her to it. “Tragedy is upon us. But far be it for me to cast any blame.”

As she said it, her form took on enough solidity so that everyone in the class could see her arm outstretched, her finger pointing directly at me.

Everyone turned and looked at me as if I had used my own hands to strangle the life out of poor Fingold. As I sputtered to defend myself, the Spore got up from his seat and walked somberly back to the aquarium. He retrieved the body with a small net and laid it out in an empty pencil case.

“Fingold—” he huffed as he practiced for his role as coroner “—is . . . dead.”

Somnia lowered her head in respect and quickly fell asleep. The sound of her forehead clunking against her desk distracted me just enough for my opponent to pounce.

“But he won't be forgotten,” Transparent Girl announced. “Which is why I'm proud to announce, in honor of our fallen fishy friend, the formation of the Fingold Memorial Fish Fund for the financing of fishes forever.” She paused for dramatic effect. “And I will make the first donation myself.”

Even as she said it, she made her way back to the empty jelly jar, into which she proceeded to deposit the same twenty-three cents and two pencil stubs that she had taken on Monday.

“So while my opponent favors the death of fish,” Transparent Girl concluded, “I am starting this fund to help save them.”

Things only got worse from there. No matter what I said to defend myself, Transparent Girl found a way to turn it against me. By the time the bell finally rang, I wasn't sure that
I
would have voted for myself.

“Man, we don't stand a chance,” Tadpole grumped as we all filed out of the school. “Nobody is going to vote for us.”

“I'm sorry, guys,” I said with a sigh. “Maybe it would be best if I just dropped out of the race so I don't sink our entire ticket.”

“It's not your fault, O Boy,” Plasma Girl said, just as Tadpole was looking like he was about to accept my offer. “People will eventually see through Transparent Girl.”

“Don't they already?” Halogen Boy cocked his head in confusion.

“See through what she's
saying
,” Plasma Girl corrected.

“I hope so,” I said as we left the school grounds and headed north. “But that issue is really pretty minor compared to the Red Menace. How are we ever going to convince people to see through what
he's
saying?”

“Yeah, what exactly is our plan to bring down that crazy old nutcase?” Tadpole asked as we approached Colossal Way, the main road connecting the western part of the city to downtown.

“Lord Pincushion said it's important for us to find out what he's up to,” Stench reminded us.

It was a relief to know that at least my friends no longer thought I was nuts. They were now equally convinced that the Red Menace was somehow living up to his name.

“But how do we do that?” Plasma Girl asked just as we reached Colossal Way. “We don't even know where to find him.”

The words were barely out of her mouth when we turned the corner and discovered an enormous parade making its way toward us. At the head of it was the Red Menace himself.

As it got closer we saw that the parade was actually just a single float. It was a large, flat motorized vehicle that looked like a giant Pseudo-Chip. Major Bummer was in the driver's seat. Perched on a tall stand behind him, and surrounded by other members of the League of Ultimate Goodness, was the Red Menace. He was talking into a bullhorn so that everyone could hear his voice.

“That's right, citizens of Superopolis,” he announced. “Express your collective will by following me to the Telomere Chip Factory.”

The rest of the “parade” was just a massive crowd of people following obediently behind the Red Menace.

“There I will convince all those who used to make that inferior brand of potato chips to instead come to work making the future of potato-y goodness,” he continued. “They'll follow the path to Pseudo-Chip perfection!”

The crowd went wild, and every person the float passed joined the parade to Dr. Telomere's. As it got to us, however, we forced ourselves to stay put. Well, in truth, Halogen Boy started to move toward the crowd, but Plasma Girl had grabbed him by his cape and yanked him back to the side of the road.

“We feel it, too,” she had told Hal, “but just keep telling yourself he's trying to manipulate us.”

Despite the hypnotic tug of the Red Menace's words, we all stayed where we were. The only problem was that our unusual behavior attracted some attention.

“Hey, kids,” shouted the Crimson Creampuff from aboard the float. “Hop on the bandwagon and come along with us. Everybody loves AI's PseudoChips.”

“It's true,” added Featherweight as he wafted over to us. “They're crisp, they're flavorful, you can stack 'em like a deck of cards, and—” A breeze whisked him away before he could pile on even more one-sided comments.

LI'L HERO'S HANDBOOK

PEOPLE

NAME:
Featherweight.
POWER:
He's literally the weight of a feather.
LIMITATIONS:
Has a hard time keeping his feet on the ground.
CAREER:
Could never hold down a job until he drifted to the attention of the Amazing Indestructo.
CLASSIFICATION:
Brings new meaning to the term “lightweight.”

“And don't-a forget that Pseudo-Chips, they help-a keep us free,” Spaghetti Man pointed out.

“How do they do that?” I asked skeptically. “They're just chips. And they don't taste anywhere near as good as Dr. Telomere's.”

“Aaarghh, sonny,” Cap'n Blowhole interjected. “Those landlubbin' chips are just all wet.”