Brainboy and the Deathmaster by Tor Seidler

without bothering to thank the elderly man. At first all he could see were his owneyelashes magnified. But when he adjusted the focus knob, he caught his breath. There it was, in all its glory—G-17! He’d memorized its molecular structure in orientation, but this was the thing itself, the actual constellation of atoms.
    He could have marveled at its complexities all day, but after a while he heard Mr. Masterly’s voice and jumped off his stool and dashed out into the octagon. It was deserted: everyone was crowded into Chem.
    “Ah, Darryl, thank you for joining us,” said Mr. Masterly, who was standing at a stainless-steel counter, his right hand resting on a small chest. It hadn’t been there when Snoodles was preparing the slide. “I was just saying how even though I’m well past my mental prime—”
    “No, you’re not!” a chorus of young voices protested.
    Mr. Masterly smiled. “It’s sad but true. Nevertheless, I did have an idea of sorts the other day. We’re looking to find a durable structure for G-17, one that doesn’t disintegrate over time. So why shouldn’t we study the most durable thing to occur naturally on earth?”
    “Iron?” Ruthie piped up.
    “Even more durable than iron.”
    “Titanium?” said Suki.
    “Good guess. But … ”
    Mr. Masterly opened the lid of the chest, and everyone gasped.
    “Diamonds!” they said in hushed unison.
    Mr. Masterly dug out a handful of the glittering gems and let them sift back into the chest as if they were grains of wheat. “Highest quality. Feel free to play around with them. Who knows, something in their molecular structure may give us a hint.’’ With that Mr. Masterly went out into the octagon, and they all followed as if he was the Pied Piper. “Sadly, I have to head back to town. But before I go, I want to congratulate Mario for coming up with an original and ingenious approach to G-17. Mario had the idea of freezing the molecule at minus one hundred degrees Celsius before injecting it into the DNA. Unfortunately, once the G-17 thawed out, it broke down again. But it worked for a little while—and it’s the kind of innovative thinking I like. Before I came down here, I put a Mario trophy in the case.”
    Everybody applauded and clapped Mario on the back.
    “Ah,” Mr. Masterly said. “I see we have a player.”
    The red globe mounted on the pole atop the computer console had started flashing like the cherry on a police car.
    “I’ll take it,” said Greg Birtwissel, manning one of the computers.
    The flashing red light gave Darryl a weird, hollowfeeling in his gut—but only for a moment. “What’s it mean?” he asked.
    “Someone made it through the maze,” Mr. Masterly said.
    The maze, Darryl thought, hazily remembering the MondoGameMaster in the shelter.
    “What’s their poison, Greg?” Mr. Masterly asked.
    “MasterTrek,” Greg said.
    They all gathered around and watched as Greg typed in “Want to play?” A
Yes
soon appeared on the screen. Greg identified himself as FastFingers. The player identified herself as Rosalie_W But Rosalie_W was no match for FastFingers. Greg was soon levels ahead.
    “Pity,” Mr. Masterly said. “But of course people as bright as you come along only once in a blue moon.”
    “Can anyone play?” Darryl asked.
    “Sure.”
    “What happens if they beat us?”
    “Ask Nina.”
    “You beat me at StarMaster,” Nina said. “Two out of three.”
    “That was you?” Darryl said. “What did you call yourself?”
    “NABATW,” Nina said.
    “What is that?”
    “My handle. And you’re MDK, right?”
    Darryl nodded.
    “If somebody gives you a real run for your money, hit control D,” Mr. Masterly said. “Simple as that.”
    “I’ve been here for ages and I’ve never got to do it,” Ruthie said with a sniff. “They’re always so dumb and slow.”
    “Most are, sadly, but now and then we get an exception,” Mr. Masterly said, bringing a glow to Darryl’s face by patting him on the