What you don’t know about running shoes may kill you, and tonight at ten, oxygen: Is it overrated? Find out the shocking truth in a special report that you won’t want to miss.”

Jacob couldn’t figure out how the reporter had managed to make his hair so shiny. He wondered if he had undergone surgery to replace the entire top of his head with a permanently gleaming brow and rock-solid plastic hair.

Jacob looked around the room at the reporters, busily scratching at notepads and speaking into cameras. He was amazed at the many and varied places the reporters stowed their writing utensils. There were pens tucked behind ears, pens stuck into hair, pens tucked into stained shirts, and even two-fisted pens, with a second pen at the ready should one fail at the precise moment something important was spoken. There was paper all over the floor, and no one had thought to water any of the plants along the wall, which were brown and dead and themselves littered with more paper. Occasionally someone would shout, “Scoop! Scoop! I have a scoop!” and the other reporters would grumble to each other and then casually position themselves to eavesdrop on what the scooping reporter was saying.

“Are you getting this, you imbecile?!” the reporter screamed at his cameraman. “What? We’re live? Ha-ha!” He adjusted his red tie. “Just a little joke for you folks back home.”

Jacob looked all over the room for Sarah, and finally spotted her giving an interview in the back. He caught her eye, and though he knew she was still mad at him about Dexter, she gave him an encouraging smile.

“You’re on,” the reporter said. He glanced at his watch. “Is it time for more hair gel?” he asked his camera-
man. “I think we need more gel.”

Jacob steadied his nerves and stepped up to the podium, then onto the box behind the lectern. He peered out at the reporters, who were frantically taking pictures and scratching notes even though he hadn’t said anything yet.

There were cameras everywhere, and he wondered how many billions of people were watching. Maybe even his dad was watching, either on some top-secret space TV channel on Earth, or maybe even from somewhere nearby in space. He pulled at the tie he was wearing, which Sarah had tied too tightly. He wondered if he should have spent more time on his speech.

“Astrals and Earthers,” he began as confidently as he could. “I am supremely, uh, honored that you… I really appreciate that I’m here to be… I mean… I’m here to announce my candidacy for president of the universe.”

Jacob waited for some sort of applause, but the reporters were staring at their notepads. After a moment, he finally heard clapping from the back and heard Sarah shout, “Go Jake!”

He cleared his throat. “This is an important time for Earth and Space. I mean, as I don’t think I have to tell you. The first president of the universe should be like the king has been, um, like. Kind and good. And responsible. I promise to you that I will do the best job I can and will serve the office with honor.”

He looked out at the reporters. Some of them had fallen asleep. The rest looked as if they were so bored they couldn’t bother to keep their mouths closed. They stared at Jacob with slack jaws and half-lidded eyes.

“Is that it?” someone finally asked.

“No,” Jacob said quickly. “I mean, I will always do the right thing. I won’t let you down. I promise. Uh, thank you.”

One of the reporters threw his notepad into the air in disgust. “How can I write a story about this?” he shouted.

“Headline!” another yelled. “‘Candidate for Presidency Promises to Try Hard.’ Subhead: ‘Reporter fired for boring everyone to death.’”

There was a murmur of agreement.

“How do you plan to beat your opponent?” someone asked.

Jacob frowned. “My opponent?” He hadn’t even considered that he would have to run against anyone.

There was a commotion at the back of the room. Everyone turned and watched as an entourage swooped in with a great deal of fanfare. Cameras flashed, and the reporters started shouting questions. Through the tumult, Jacob finally caught a glimpse of his opponent—a small figure with impeccably groomed hair standing in the center of his entourage. It was Mick Cracken. Space buccaneer and prince.

Mick guided the entourage to the aisle, then broke away. He walked confidently up to the podium and shoved Jacob aside, then stood in front of the microphone. Jacob gave his ground, too stunned to know how to react.

Mick flashed his best cocky smile. “To the finest reporters and journalists in the universe, guardians of free speech and keepers of liberty. I bow down before your beauty and intelligence, you peerless scribes of truth and wisdom.”

The reporters nodded to each other and smiled. There was a smattering of applause. Jacob didn’t know what to do and locked eyes with Sarah Daisy, who shook her head and shrugged.

Mick paused for a moment, basking in the glow of attention. Finally he began to speak. “My administration will be full of corruption and scandal. There will be foul tricks and dirty deeds. I will disgrace the office, and my mistakes will force me to beg for mercy.” Mick looked up at the reporters. “There will probably be tears.”

The reporters murmured to each other appreciatively.

“As the universe’s most famous space buccaneer, I couldn’t be more unqualified for this office. I cannot promise you that I will be competent or wise or good or even sort of good. You will often wonder how and why you elected me in the first place. That is, if I don’t steal votes outright.” Mick winked, and the reporters laughed. “There will always be a scandal to follow. Always a conspiracy to unravel. Constant speculation about whether I will be forced to resign.

“Above all else, you will never be bored. I will break every single promise I make to you, except for this one, which I will hold dear: My speeches will be short.”

The room grew quiet in excitement and anticipation.

“And that is why it gives me great pleasure to announce my candidacy for president of the universe.”

The reporters rose to their feet and cheered wildly. Mick raised his hands above his head and shook them in triumph.

Mick walked over to Jacob and turned him to face the crowd. “Photo op,” he said. He grabbed Jacob’s hand to shake it and flashed a peace sign with his left hand, giving the reporters his biggest smile.

“This is going to be so easy,” Mick said between his teeth.

Jacob sensed that his candidacy was on thin ice.