Benjamin Franklinstein Meets the Fright Brothers (3 page)

Mayor Milstead stood behind a podium, with two men beside her. The first man wore a crisp blue suit and appeared to be standing at attention. The second man was much shorter. He slouched, and his beard was full of crumbs. The mayor began to speak.

“A female mayor?” marveled Franklin. “Fascinating!”

“Oh, yeah, I read about this,” said Victor. “Enormous bats flying around the city? It's preposterous.”

“A short time ago, I would have told you that instant pudding was preposterous,” said Franklin. “How can you be so certain?”

“Trust me.”

“So there are no giant bats? No . . . vampires?”

“Of course not,” said Victor. “It's probably just a publicity stunt. We don't have giant bats in Philadelphia, and there's no such thing as vampires.”

Wednesday was
the Fourth of July. Victor rose bright and early and suddenly knew exactly what he had to do. It was an idea so simple, so obvious, he couldn't understand why he hadn't thought of it before.

There was no way Victor and Ben could be around twenty-four hours a day to listen for a call from the electrophone. But . . . they could
invent something
to do the listening for them. An alert system.

Still in his underwear, Victor raced to his desk and began to sketch some ideas. He knew the electrophone had a distinctive electrical charge when it was in use. All they'd need to do would be to attach a simple sensor to the pickup coil, and that sensor could connect to his laptop, and the laptop could send an alert to his phone . . .

One by one, the pieces snapped into place. The idea was simplicity itself. And with Ben's help, they might even be able to get it up and running before the parade started. Victor threw on some clothes and grabbed his laptop.

Downstairs, he knocked on the front door of Franklin's apartment. It was early, and there was a good chance the old man was still asleep. But this idea was so good, Victor was certain his friend wouldn't mind being disturbed.

Technically, Franklin didn't sleep. Whereas a normal person's body was more than half water, Franklin's coursed with electrified harmonic fluid, a wondrous substance that had allowed him to survive for centuries in suspended animation.

Unfortunately, the harmonic fluid lost its charge fairly quickly, so Franklin spent his nights plugged into an outlet in his apartment. This recharged both his bloodstream and the special battery belt that Victor had devised to keep him regulated through the day. Without the belt, Franklin risked becoming over- or underpowered, either of which could lead to disastrous results.

Victor knocked again, and the door swung open. There stood Franklin, proudly resplendent in his colonial-era clothing.

“Victor! Good morning!”

“Hi, Ben. I'm sorry to get you up so early.”

“Early? I've been up for hours. Are you as excited about the Independence Day Bicycle Parade as I am?”

“Uh, probably not as excited as you are,” said Victor, “but, sure, I'm excited.”

“You
must
see my bicycle. Please, come in.”

Victor stepped inside Franklin's apartment. There, in the center of the room, stood the most ridiculously patriotic bike Victor had ever seen. Painted in alternating stripes of red, white, and blue, it sported streamers, cardboard stars, and a flag of Franklin's own “Don't Tread on Me” design. Even the tires had been decorated with glitter and stickers.

Franklin walked over and stood proudly beside the handlebars. “What do you think, my boy?”

“It's very . . . American. Did you do this all yourself?”

“I've been working on it all week. Is it enough?”

“Enough?”

“Enough to honor this great day! I have more stickers—”

“No, I think it has enough stickers,” said Victor. “You've really been looking forward to this, haven't you?”

“Since seventeen seventy-six, my boy! I only wish Jefferson, Adams, and Washington could be here to share it with me. Well, maybe not Adams—he could get cranky. But you know what I mean.”

“I do.” Victor knelt down and admired Franklin's handiwork. “It's a great bike, Ben. I wouldn't change a thing.”

“Thank you, Victor. And how are things with you?”

“Excellent. I've had a brainstorm.”

Victor explained his plan for an electrophone alert system as Franklin listened intently. Although the old man had missed the last two centuries of technology, he was a quick study.

“It's brilliant!” said Franklin. He paused for a moment, deep in thought. “But . . . have you considered attaching the sensor
directly
to the speaking cone on the electrophone? That's where the harmonic signal strength should be greatest.”

“I considered that,” said Victor. “But wouldn't it interfere with the—”

“Not if we insulate the pickup coil completely,” interrupted Franklin. “In fact, the insulation might well—”

“—solve our harmonic interference problem!” finished Victor. “It makes perfect sense. But we'd better hurry. Scott said he'd be here at nine thirty.”

“To the laboratory!” announced Franklin, with a flourish.

The work went even faster than Victor had expected, and within an hour they had their alert system working pretty well. Victor went outside to wait for Scott while Franklin put a few finishing touches on his bicycle.

At ten fifteen, Victor finally spotted his friend pedaling around the corner at the far end of the street. He was carrying something big on his handlebars, and his bike wobbled and swerved under the weight. As he grew closer, Victor could see that the object was a large, wooden antique radio.

 

“Hey, Victor,” huffed Scott, “check it out. This used to . . . be my . . . grandfather's.” Scott careened up the sidewalk, where he and the bike dropped, exhausted, onto their sides. The radio tumbled off the handlebars and onto the lawn.

Victor walked over and tipped the radio upright. It was the size of a picnic cooler, and fancier than most of the furniture in his house. “Nice. Does it still work?”

“Not so much,” said Scott. “I thought I could fix it, but I think I just made it worse.”

Victor pulled open a small door on the back of the radio. Inside was a tangle of dusty tubes and wires. “What have you tried?”

“All sorts of things,” said Scott. “I noticed some of the wires were red and some were black, so I colored them all black, but that didn't help. My dad said it wasn't safe to plug it in, so I added a bunch of batteries and wedged some aluminum foil into the empty spaces. The radio makes clucking sounds now, like there's a chicken in there. That's not right, is it?”

“Probably not,” agreed Victor.

“So anyway, I was thinking that maybe I could leave it here and your uncle Frank could help me look at it. He's at least as old as the radio. Maybe he'll catch something I missed.”

“We can ask him,” said Victor, “although I don't know if—”

“Did someone mention my name?” Franklin appeared from around the side of the house, wheeling his starspangled bike. To Victor's amazement, it was now covered with even more red, white, and blue decorations.

“Hey, Mr. Benjamin,” called Scott. “That looks amazing!”

Franklin beamed. “Why, thank you, Scott. I am honored that you approve.”

“I wish my bike looked like that. Don't you, Victor?”

“Uh, sure. Yes, of course I do.”

“I have more stickers,” offered Franklin. “Would you boys like some for your bikes?”

“That would be
awesome,
” said Scott.

“Definitely,” agreed Victor, “but I'm, uh . . . afraid we're out of time. You guys don't want to be late, do you?”