Benjamin Franklinstein Meets Thomas Deadison Page 2

  “That was so cool! Best cannonball ever! And you should have seen Ben dive out of the plane after you. Wow! ”

  Victor winced. Only Scott Weaver could find something like this entertaining. Didn’t he realize Victor had nearly died?

  Victor took Scott’s hand and climbed onto the dock.

  Dr. Gwynn ran over with a towel. “Are you all right, Victor?”

  “I’m fine. Just a little shaken up.” He gathered the towel close and tried to catch his breath. “How’s Orville?”

  “He’s fine, but this particular gyroplane is ruined. Right now, he and Wilbur are trying to figure out what went wrong.”

  “He’s an amazing pilot,” said Victor. “If it hadn’t been for him and Ben, I—Hey, where is Ben?”

  “Over there with Jaime and the others,” said Scott.

  At the edge of the shore, Franklin lay on his back, his legs twitching. Two Promethean scientists huddled over him.

  “Something’s wrong,” said Victor. “Sparks are coming out of his neck bolts.”

  “Is that bad?” asked Scott.

  “Very.”

  There was a flash, like someone taking a picture, then a puff of smoke. Franklin’s leg stopped moving, and he was completely still.

  “Quick!” one of the scientists ordered. “Take him inside!”

  To an outside observer, the Promethean testing area looked like any private camp. There were woods, fields, a dock, a beach, and several cabinlike buildings. But inside those buildings, the scientists of the Promethean Underground carried out some of the most advanced research in the world.

  THE PROMETHEAN TESTING AREA

  Right now, that research was focused entirely on one man.

  In the basement of Building Three, Benjamin Franklin’s body was stretched out on a long metal table. Cables ran from the bolts in his neck to a rack of computers, where doctors and engineers monitored his vital signs.

  “Is he dead?” whispered Scott.

  “No,” said Victor, “but it’s serious. The pond water must have shorted out his battery belt. It was never designed to go underwater.”

  Victor had invented the battery belt to help fix one of Franklin’s biggest problems: The old man was constantly running out of power. When he had been preserved in 1790, harmonic technology was brand-new. It would not be perfected until the time of the Wright brothers, over a century later.

  The first version of the belt had been a series of rechargeable batteries that Franklin wore beneath his coat. But recently, Promethean scientists had replaced it with a more advanced, high-power lithium polymer matrix. It worked amazingly well—provided Franklin stayed out of the water.

  “Any updates?”

  “Oh—hi, Jaime,” said Victor, startled. Jaime Winters had an unsettling habit of appearing out of nowhere. “No, nothing yet, from what I can tell. He’s stable, but…well, he still hasn’t moved.”

  “He’s like a statue,” said Scott. “From a museum.”

  Jaime snorted. “Thanks for the clarification, Scott.”

  “No problem. Say, can I ask you something? How come you wear those sunglasses all the time, even indoors?”

  “How come you ask annoying questions all the time?”

  Scott shrugged. “It’s just what I do.”

  “Well, wearing sunglasses is what I do.”

  Victor winced. Jaime Winters had a habit of taking out her stress on the easiest target in the room, and that target was usually Scott. Fortunately, Scott never seemed to notice.

  To be fair, Jaime had a lot to be stressed about. Her parents had been Custodians in the Modern Order of Prometheus. But they, and many others, had disappeared months ago in the Emperor’s latest maneuver to gain control of the Order. Since then, Jaime had devoted herself to helping the Promethean Underground fight back. Although she was roughly Victor and Scott’s age, she had to spend her days acting like an adult. It had to be hard, Victor thought.

  “There’s not much we can do here,” said Victor. “How about we get some air?”

  Jaime nodded. “I meant to tell you—Orville and Wilbur are waiting at the field to say good-bye.”

  “I’ll meet you there,” said Victor. “Where’s the bathroom?”

  At the men’s room, Victor held the door as a janitor shoved past him with a ladder and a box of lightbulbs. His hands were still shaking from the morning’s excitement, and his stomach had terrible cramps. He entered a stall and sat down.

  He had tried to hide it around Jaime and Scott, but he was deeply concerned about Ben. Victor had dropped his phone in a puddle once, and the damage to its electronics had been instant and beyond repair. Franklin’s own electrical system was not all that different. A short circuit to his battery matrix could have easily—

  …listen…

  Victor looked around.

  “Hello?” said Victor. “Is someone there?”

  Silence.

  He ducked down and peered beneath the stall. No feet. He was still alone in the bathroom.

  Weird. He was sure he had heard a voice. But stress could do that to a person.

  Victor finished up and raced out to join the others.

  At the end of the field, Victor found Scott examining the remains of the gyroplane with his dad, Skip Weaver. Jaime took photos of the wreck, while Orville and Wilbur worked at superspeed to analyze the damage and make repairs.

  “Mr. Weaver!” said Victor. “We didn’t expect to see you so early. Is everything all right?”

  “Sure is,” said Skip. “But it sounds like you had quite a scare. How are you doing?”

  “Better,” said Victor.

  “Glad to hear it,” said Skip. “We’ve got a slight change of plans. Mrs. Weaver has one of her fund-raisers at the Arthur Parker Art Park tonight. Scott and I have to—I mean get to—be there. I’m afraid I’m going to have to take you guys home a little early.”

  “When you’re there, be sure to visit The Emperor’s Spaghetti,” said Orville. “It’s our favorite sculpture.”

  “Will do,” Skip said, laughing.

  “So what do you guys think happened to your plane?” asked Victor.

  Wilbur frowned. “We don’t know. There’s nothing flammable in the tail. There’s no reason it should have exploded.”

  “I can think of one reason,” said Jaime. “Sabotage.”

  “Sabotage?” Victor said. “You think someone here is trying to destroy the gyroplane?”

  “And maybe kill a couple of important inventors at the same time,” Jaime said, looking at Orville.

  “We’re going to keep both of our gyroplanes grounded until we know for sure,” said Wilbur. “With luck, we’ll be ready to resume sky patrols by the end of the week.”

  “Plus, back at the shop we still have several hundred bicycles to rebuild and return to our customers,” added Orville. “It’s going to be a busy week.”

  “For us too,” added Scott mournfully. “School starts tomorrow.”

  MEANWHILE…

  A tired-looking man sat slumped behind a messy desk at the Philadelphia Department of Streets. The fluorescent ceiling lights reflected dully off his head.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Thomason,” he said, “but the Street Lighting Unit is responsible for one hundred thousand streetlights and eighteen thousand alley lights. We don’t have the money for that much new lighting, even your Infinity Bulbs. Maybe next year.”

  Ed Thomason stood in front of the desk, straightening his bow tie. “I don’t think you fully grasp the brilliance of my invention, Mr. Swan. If you replace all the city’s streetlamps with Infinity Bulbs, Philadelphia will save millions in electricity bills. They use only a fraction of the energy your current lights do.”

  Mr. Swan shook his head. “I wish I could help you, but it’s just not going to happen this year.”

  “But Mr. Swan, if you bent the rules—took a few shortcuts, perhaps—you could move this process along, couldn’t you?”

  Mr. Swan sat up straight in his cha
ir. His face reddened. “I don’t break the rules for anybody, Mr. Thomason. Now get out of my office.”

  “I think you misunderstand me,” Mr. Thomason said. “Please give me one last chance. I’d like to show you something.”

  He took the reading lamp off Mr. Swan’s desk and unscrewed the bulb. “Watch closely.”

  Mr. Thomason dropped the lightbulb into the wastebasket and stuck his finger into the lamp’s socket.

  “Hey!” Mr. Swan shouted. “Are you crazy? You’ll be—”

  But he never finished his sentence.

  Mr. Thomason’s entire body began to glow from within. First a soft orange, and then a bright white. He shone like a human lightbulb filament. His glow pulsated, throbbing like a heartbeat.

  Mr. Swan tried to speak, tried to move, but could do neither.

  “You will follow my command.”

  The voice seemed to come from everywhere.

  “I will,” Mr. Swan droned.

  “You will replace all city streetlights with Infinity Bulbs.”

  “Yes.”

  “This is a good decision.”

  “It is.”

  “It will save the city money and electricity. This is the right thing to do.”

  “This is the right thing to do.”

  “You will begin now.”

  Mr. Swan awoke at his desk and blinked his eyes.

  “I must have fallen asleep,” he muttered to himself. “I’m overworked.”

  He looked at the newly signed contracts in front of him. Ah, yes, he thought. The Infinity Unlimited streetlight contract. This is a good decision. This is the right thing to do. I will begin now.

  He picked up the phone and made a call.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Back to School

  It felt strange to walk in to the first day of school so unprepared.

  In the past, Victor would have started getting ready weeks in advance. He would have memorized his locker combination, color-coded his folders, mapped out his class locations, and calculated his travel time between each point. And he wouldn’t have missed the bus. But this year, those things didn’t seem quite so important.

  At least Ben was doing better. Jaime had texted Victor that morning. Dr. Gwynn had moved Franklin from the testing area to Promethean Underground Headquarters. Franklin was up and about, and a small team of scientists was working on a more reliable battery belt. Victor wanted to visit, but Jaime insisted that the location of headquarters had to remain secret, even to him. After all, the Emperor’s spies could be anywhere.

  Victor and Scott were in the same social studies class, and Victor couldn’t wait to give him the good news about Ben.

  If Victor could find his classroom.

  By the time he located it, down a side hall behind the cafeteria, class had already begun. The teacher, a short redheaded woman named Mrs. Kerwin, was finishing attendance when Victor stumbled in.

  “And you are?” she said, peering over the rims of her reading glasses.

  “Uh, I’m Victor Godwin. Sorry I’m late.”

  “‘You may delay, but time will not.’ Class begins precisely at eight. Please try to remember that.”

  “I will.” Victor wound his way to the empty desk behind Angela Willbrant. Scott was seated one row over, a few seats behind. Victor pointed to imaginary bolts on his neck and gave Scott a thumbs-up sign to let him know Franklin was okay.

  “This year, we will begin by studying early American history and the founders of our country. I consider it one of the most fascinating periods in history. It also happens to be a specialty of mine.” Mrs. Kerwin bowed modestly. “Over the course of this year, I will attempt to bring the founding fathers to life for you.”

  Victor chuckled. If she only knew!

  “Mr. Godwin, did I say something funny?”

  “No, Mrs. Kerwin. I’m so sorry. I was just thinking of a friend of mine.”

  “I see. This friend of yours, does he have a habit of showing up late and causing a distraction?”

  “Uh…well, he kind of does,” admitted Victor.

  “Victor, when you first walked in, I told you that you may delay, but time will not. Do you know what that means?”

  “I think so.”

  “And do you know who said it?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “A man named Benjamin Franklin, one of the greatest minds our country has produced. You would do well to get to know him a little better.”

  This time it was Scott’s turn to laugh.

  Mrs. Kerwin scowled and cleared her throat. “Now then, can anyone tell me something about Dr. Franklin?”

  “He’s on the fifty dollar bill,” offered Hanna O’Brien.

  “Actually, Franklin is on the hundred,” said Mrs. Kerwin. “Anything else?”

  INFINITY UNLIMITED LOGO

  “He was a president,” said Cody Quinn.

  “He was not a president,” said Mrs. Kerwin. “Although he was a statesman, a diplomat, a writer, a scientist, and an inventor. Can anyone name one of his inventions?”

  “The bioptiscope!” said Scott. Victor shot him a nasty look.

  “Franklin did not invent the bioptiscope, whatever that is.” Mrs. Kerwin massaged her temples and let out a long sigh. “I can see we have a lot of work to do this year.”

  Victor raised his hand. “I can tell you something Franklin invented.”

  “Yes?”

  “Swimming flippers. But he wore them on his hands.”

  The class laughed, but Mrs. Kerwin’s eyes grew wide. “That’s absolutely correct, Victor. Where did you learn that?”

  “From my friend, the one I told you about before. He’s kind of an expert on Benjamin Franklin.”

  “Marvelous,” said Mrs. Kerwin. “Perhaps there’s hope for you yet.”

  The rest of class went by quickly. Just before the end, Mrs. Kerwin ducked into the closet and emerged with a large cardboard box.

  “In the spirit of invention, I have a special surprise gift for everyone.”

  The class leaned forward in anticipation.

  “Lightbulbs!” announced Mrs. Kerwin.

  The class slumped back in their chairs with a collective groan.

  “But not just any bulbs,” she continued. “Infinity Bulbs! The Infinity Unlimited Company has generously donated four of these amazing devices to every child in our public schools. They use practically no electricity, are great for the environment, and will save your families money on their electrical bills. You may each take a box as you leave.”

  “Do we have to?” asked Denny Berkus.

  “‘A penny saved is a penny earned,’” said Mrs. Kerwin. “So yes, you have to.”

  That afternoon, riding home on the bus, Victor received a puzzling text message.

  “What in the world is that?” asked Scott.

  Victor studied his phone for a moment. “It’s a message from Jaime. We’re going to need your dad’s help. Can you guys pick me up around seven tonight?”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Science Club

  That evening after dinner, Victor and his mother sat on their couch to watch the six o’clock news. “So how was the first day of school, kiddo?” Mrs. Godwin asked.

  “Okay, I guess. My new social studies teacher, Mrs. Kerwin? She’s going to be tough.”

  Mrs. Godwin smiled. “Well, honey, sometimes the tough teachers are the ones we learn the most from.”

  Victor reached into his backpack and pulled out a box. “She handed out these Infinity Bulbs to everybody in the class. They’re supposed to save energy.”

  “I love these,” Mrs. Godwin said, taking the box. “In fact, I’ve already replaced most of our old bulbs with them. Hey, look—they’re talking about them on TV.”

  WURP news reporter Katy Kaitlyn appeared on the television screen.

  “In local news, it looks like inventor and owner of Infinity Unlimited, Ed Thomason, is about to add ‘good citizen’ to his list of accomplishments. Earlier tod
ay, he held a press conference to announce the next phase in what sounds to us like a pretty bright idea!”

  The image switched to that of a very old man standing at a podium on the front steps of Independence Hall. The wind tousled his unruly white hair. Victor thought he looked oddly familiar. The man began to speak.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, in this very building behind me, our great country was founded on the principle of freedom. I stand here to offer a new kind of freedom: freedom from expensive energy bills.

  “Recently, I’ve begun supplying thousands of Infinity Bulbs to the City of Philadelphia. You’ve probably already noticed them in your parks, schools, streets, and government buildings. And for weeks, Infinity Bulbs have been available in stores at affordable prices. But from this point on, Infinity Bulbs are yours for free. Simply visit any store and turn in your old lightbulbs. Then take as many Infinity Bulbs as you need. This is my gift to you, citizens of Philadelphia, the city of freedom!”

  “Those are great bulbs,” Mrs. Godwin said. “Everyone should get them.”

  The television image switched back to Katy Kaitlyn: “Exactly how the Infinity Bulbs produce so much light from so little power remains a mystery. Mr. Thomason calls it a company secret. And now, to the weather with Skip!”

  Victor winced as his best friend’s father jumped onto the screen. He was wearing a mask and a gaudy professional wrestling costume. The words WEATHER WRESTLER were printed on the back of his cape. An actor wearing a fluffy gray cloud costume snuck up behind him and jumped on his back. Skip flipped the cloud over his shoulder and pinned him to the studio floor.

  “Take that, rain cloud!”

  The rain cloud groaned.

  “I really like Mr. Weaver,” Victor said, “but as a scientist, I can only take his weather forecasts in small doses.”

  Victor’s mom turned off the television. “You’d better get your homework done. The others will be here soon to take you to your science club.” She turned on the lamp next to her and picked up a book.