The Age Atomic

TWENTY-ONE



Twelve agents from Atoms for Peace had the machine at gunpoint, a dozen automatic pistols spaced evenly in a semicircle in Doctor X’s robotics laboratory. The doctor sagged inside the cage, nearly six pints of blood pooled on the cement around him. On the other side of the lab, the tall computer cabinet was covered with something red and black that was getting sticky as it dried.

Elektro stood in the middle of the circle of agents, his red eyes rolling around them, but the machine appeared to be patient. It was humming something fast and happy. The dozen agents knew they would need more than nine-millimeter ammunition to stop it.

Evelyn McHale floated into the circle of agents, one moment not there and the next there. Elektro’s eyes fixed on her blue form as the Ghost of Gotham drifted closer, and the robot stopped humming.

The Director regarded Elektro, tilting her head, her lips parted, like she was trying to read something in the machine. Elektro said nothing and remained still.

“You killed Farnsworth and Richardson,” said Evelyn, finally.

“Hi, boss,” said Elektro.

Evelyn floated to the door of the cage, but stopped just short of the threshold. She ignored the remains of Doctor X on the slab and instead seemed to be examining the edges of the cage door.

“I didn’t see this. It hadn’t happened.”

“Sorry about the mess,” said Elektro, its head spinning around to watch the Director. “But it’s OK, I’m good. I figured out where I went wrong. Third time’s the charm, right?”

“The cage. Isolation.” Evelyn floated backwards, her eyes fixed on the structure. “I understand.”

“Say, how about you and me cut a deal? Just imagine what we could do, huh? It’s enough to make the mind reel, boss. Ah, boss?”

The Director was now in front of Elektro. The robot’s head swiveled back to her as she reached out to touch the spinning red disc in the machine’s chest. Her fingers stopped an inch from the glass.

“You understand the principles of the fusor reactor?”

“More than that, lady,” said Elektro. “I got the damn thing working. Our old friend there was close but no cigar, as the saying goes. Hey, you got any cigarettes around here?”

The Director smiled and drifted backwards. “Agent Carter will give you his. Agent?”

Behind her, one of the agents twitched into life. He glanced sideways at his colleagues, then slowly lowered his weapon. He pulled a packet of Lucky Strikes from his jacket and handed them over.

“Much obliged,” said Elektro, flipping the pack open and extracting a cigarette. “Smoking’ll kill ya, but who wants to live forever, right?” His eyes flicked to Evelyn’s.

“With Doctor Farnsworth and his assistant dead, I need someone to complete work on the fusor reactors and prepare the army for war,” she said.

“Huh,” said Elektro, cigarette dangling from his metal jaw. “I can fix ‘em up but you’re gonna need a central reactor to time them all, give them a kick-start.”

“The structure is prepared. It just needs your adjustment.”

The Director smiled, and the end of Elektro’s cigarette flared blue. The robot took a drag and exhaled a cloud of smoke that went right through Evelyn’s body like it wasn’t there.

“Lady, you got yourself a deal. When do I start?”