Jasper Dash sat surrounded by a web of metal wires, waiting for his electro-execution.
“I do not think this is very fair,” he told the sparks who watched around him.
No, it won’t be fair, they replied. But it will be tasty.
Jasper pouted, but secretly, his brain was working at full power to try to figure a way out of this fix. He could tell there was no way to talk these hungry sparks into letting him go. They were too vain and selfish. Somehow, he had to think of a way to escape.
He looked up through the metal strands at the violet heavens. The scene would have been beautiful, if jagged, lightning-like death hadn’t been threatening to end the afternoon with a loud, crispy jolt.
Then Jasper had an idea.
He called out, “I wonder whether you fellows would at least let me eat my last meal.”
Go ahead, said one of the sparks. We’ll cook it for you.
There was a sizzle of laughter around him.
“That won’t be necessary, fellows,” said Jasper, rummaging around in his backpack.
His food wasn’t fancy, but it would be fine for the occasion.I He brought out another tube of sandwich, a few squirts of french fries, his saltshaker, and some water.
With dignity, he drank a sandwich.
He shook a few dehydrated water pills into a metal saucepan and added water. They made even more water.
There was a lot of buzzing in the lines around him.
Don’t mind us, said the citizens of the Second Wire City. We’re just deciding who gets the left lobe of your brain and who gets the right lobe.
Jasper nodded. He went about his cookery.
He prized off the lid of the saltshaker and poured all the salt into the saucepan of water. He stirred it around with the finger of his space suit.
Will you think really hard when we’re eating your brain waves? the sparks asked. It might make them juicier.
Jasper finished stirring the salt into the water. He tapped his finger on the rim of the saucepan. Then he stood up.
“Swell,” he said. “Now that I’ve eaten, I will thank all you fellows if you let me go on my way.”
Fat chance! said the sparks. Nothing doing!
You’re our community supper! Everyone’s coming!
“You should let me go,” said Jasper. “Otherwise, there will be a big disaster.”
You want a big disaster? said the sparks. Maybe it’s time for you to say your good-byes.
“I’ll say my good-byes,” said Jasper with dignity. He looked around at the live wires and bid them, “Good-bye.”
The sparks surged. They were about to jump the half inch through the air to kill Jasper!
Blue shot along the wires.
Thousands of volts zapped toward the Boy Technonaut—
And at that instant, he tossed the pan of water onto the big knot of wires. Salt water went everywhere!
There was a loud, bright KRAK! BVVVVVT! KRAK! POW!
There was a universal sizzle!
Jasper Dash had shorted out the Second Wire City.
Then everything around him was silent.
Off in distant parts of the city, there was the screaming of energy beings who’d just figured out what had happened.
Jasper made his escape. He rolled and jumped and tumbled through the net of wires. Now no one tried to electrocute him as he fled from the web.
He landed on his feet outside the Second Wire City. He backed away before they recovered.
“I mixed salt and water,” he shouted back to them. “Salt and water together make an excellent conductor of electricity. So I overloaded the wires near your town square. Next time, don’t try to eat other living, talking beings! Because honesty and hospitality always triumph over cannibalism!”
He turned on his heel and marched away from the energy people of the Second Wire City.
For a while, he heard their little electrical voices thrumming behind him: Come back! Come back!
We just want to give you a massage!
We’ll recharge your ray gun for you!
We’ll light up the whole city for you! We know disco!
But he didn’t listen.
Because after a few steps, he’d looked over toward the antenna where he’d first arrived on the planet.
And he saw that someone was headed right toward it. Someone in a flying car, shooting over the mountains.
Someone, finally, had come to meet him.II
I Jasper Dash, Boy Technonaut, did not need anything fancy to eat. He had made it through the final years of the Great Depression, when there wasn’t very much food, and the Second World War, when food was rationed by the government so there was enough for the troops fighting overseas.
Busby Spence, longtime reader of Jasper Dash novels, knew that rationing was important so that soldiers like his father could eat—but still, he didn’t like it. Almost immediately when America entered the war, sugar was rationed. Soon there was no candy left in the store near Busby Spence’s house, and there would not be candy for sale there again for years. After a few months, a lot of other things went on the rationed list too: a lot of meats, even butter . . . almost everything that made food good. He stared at his plate as everything got more and more tasteless and pale. He was often still hungry after dinner.
At that point, Busby Spence convinced his mother to buy Jasper Dash’s Victory Spread, a dark, sticky, weird-tasting thing you put on bread. No one really knew what was in it. The label said, in big, cheerful letters,
DON’T ASK! JUST OPEN YOUR JAWS WIDE!
EACH JAR OF VICTORY SPREAD IS MADE WITH
This was not strictly true. Unless “victory” usually means suet, ground carrot, grass clippings, and whipped pork fat.
II On the other hand, Busby Spence, Jasper Dash’s biggest fan, waited for months and months—and even years—to throw a welcome home party. It was going to be for his father, who was off in the Pacific. Busby Spence and his mother got a note from Busby’s dad saying that he was going to be sent home for a couple of weeks before he was sent into action on a different island.
They prepared everything for his arrival. They cleaned the sofa and beat all the rugs to get the dust out of them. Busby raked the leaves so the lawn would look good.
Then, two days before Busby’s father was supposed to arrive, he called, saying he wouldn’t be coming. His unit was sending him off to a radio training session instead. He told them he would not be making it back to the East Coast.
Busby’s mother slammed down the phone without saying good-bye. Then she immediately started crying and wanted to call him back. She didn’t know the number, though. He was at a pay phone.
A few days later a package arrived from Busby’s dad. Inside it was a metal statue of a god in some robes, and a note that said, “To my two favorite people. Here’s a god of good luck I found where we were just fighting. He has to apologize in person for me not coming, since I can’t be there to say sorry myself. And Flo, I am so sorry. You know what coming home meant to me. I think about you two all the time. You’re all the world to me. Signed with love. From your pop, kid—and Flo, from your loving husband.”
Busby’s mother was happy to get the letter. She put the little statue of the god on the windowsill at the top of the stairs. She smiled at it and patted its head whenever she walked by.
Busby sized up the statue after brushing his teeth. In a Jasper Dash book, any worthwhile statue of a god sent from a distant tropical island would be cursed, and it would come alive at night and try to kill him and his mom. Or at least people would think it was cursed, until Jasper Dash discovered that the statue was actually a radio receiver that was sending messages to the enemy.
Busby Spence picked up the statue and shook it.
This stupid statue was no secret radio. He couldn’t use it to talk to anyone. No one could use it to say anything to him. No secret messages were coming from anywhere.
Busby’s mother left the statue there at the top of the stairs. It looked down on all their comings and goings.
Busby used it to play ringtoss with the lid from a canning jar.