Read Online Brainboy and the Deathmaster by Tor Seidler - Free Book Online Page A

flabber-gasted by the moment.
    “Do you like it?”
    “It’s great, but … you mean we’re not on the lake?”
    “We’re in Paradise Lab.”
    “You mean … but where are we?”
    “In Washington State, as I said. Have you ever thought about what paradise really is, Darryl?”
    It was very hard to think about anything when he was feeling so disoriented. They weren’t in the house on Hunt’s Point; they were somewhere they’d had to fly to. In the copter? Mr. Masterly clearly wasn’t going to get any more specific than “Washington State,” seeing as it was top secret.
    “Paradise would be a place where you’re happy,” Darryl said.
    “Exactly. But what’s happiness? The absence of unhappiness, perhaps? That’s the conclusion I’ve come to. Do you know what the root of unhappiness is?”
    “I’m not sure.”
    “The root of unhappiness is time.”
    Mr. Masterly’s watch gizmo beeped. He went to the door and returned wheeling a little trolley, which he parked by the table between their chairs. The biggest thing on it was a silver dome with a handle formed of the letters PL. There was also a silver coffee pot, a gold-rimmed cup and saucer, two silver forks, linen napkins with a PL monogram, and two glasses of orange juice with small paper cups beside them.
    “I hope you like eggs Benedict,” Mr. Masterly said, releasing a puff of steam as he lifted the dome.
    There, on a gold-rimmed plate, were twin mounds of poached egg and Canadian bacon perched on English muffins. Darryl had never had eggs Benedict, but they certainly smelled good.
    “They’re all yours,” Mr. Masterly said.
    “What about you?”
    “I have to watch my weight.”
    Mr. Masterly plucked a dark-blue pill out of the little paper cup and took it with his juice. Darryl pulled a pale-blue pill out of the other paper cup.
    “Our MasterPills,” Mr. Masterly said. “They give you all the vitamins and minerals you need, plus they stimulate the brain cells. That one’s designed specially for young people. Try it.”
    Darryl swallowed the pill with a swig of orangejuice. “Wow, fresh squeezed!” He tried the eggs. “These are great!”
    He tried not to wolf down his brunch, but it was so good, it was hard not to.
    “You were saying something about time, Mr. Masterly?” he said when his plate was clean.
    Mr. Masterly poured himself a cup of coffee. “If you had to describe life as we know it in a word, Darryl, what would that word be?”
    Darryl suspected life as he knew it, and as most people knew it, was pretty different from life as Keith Masterly knew it. “I’m not sure, sir.”
    “I suppose it would be expecting a lot for someone your age to have a
Weltanschauung.
”
    “A what?”
    “An overview of the world. Even for someone who’s lost his family.” Mr. Masterly’s wrist buzzed again. “Unfortunately, time is still my master. We’ll have to continue this little talk later—if you’re interested.”
    “Oh, yes!” Darryl said, afraid the buzz meant that he was boring the great man as Ms. Grimsley had.
    “You accept my offer then?”
    “Well, it sounds fantastic, sir. But …”
    “But you have doubts. I understand. A pity, though.”
    “I didn’t mean no! I only meant I wasn’t sure.”
    “The trouble is,” Mr. Masterly said, standing up,“there are several others in line for the spot.”
    “For being adopted?”
    “In a manner of speaking.”
    “What would I do there? I mean, here.”
    “Learn. And apply what you learn to unlocking the mysteries of the universe. For example, have you ever wanted to communicate with someone who’s dead?”
    As Darryl stared at it, the rosy globe lamp above Mr. Masterly’s head turned fiery red. But instead of feeling hot, Darryl started to shiver.
    “Darryl? Are you all right?”
    “Isn’t communicating with the dead impossible?” he said, barely above a whisper.
    Mr. Masterly picked up the remote and pressed a button. The painting changed from loose, colorful