Chapter 7: Day of the D's
Dexter was a genius.
That was a given, of course, but at the moment Ben felt he had never quite given that fact the full appreciation it deserved. Science and inventions and massive corporations aside, the kid knew how to plan ahead. He thought of things that Ben never would have in a month of Sundays, and it was a lucky thing because Dexter's forethought was saving Ben's tail at every junction today. It wasn't just the blue ink thing on the application (which Ben had reinstated the moment the Kanker sisters had come sniffing for a date), it was the fine print. The disclaimer. The blesséd, blesséd disclaimer.
By signing this form, the applicant agrees to abide by the screening process set forth by Cmdr. Tennyson and frees him, DexLabs, all its subsidiaries and employees, and the people involved in the final decision-making process from any legal action associated with applying for a date with Nigel Uno. Filling out this form does not guarantee a date with Nigel Uno, nor are we responsible for broken hearts, shattered dreams, or harebrained notions of grandeur associated with dating the Supreme Leader of the KND.
He couldn't walk ten feet without being held up. Some people stopped Ben to hand him their applications, saying they felt their chances would be better by giving it to him personally (as if he'd remember them and their crazy clothes amidst a sea of teenagers in crazy clothes). Ben thanked them and smiled and was vague in his answers even as he asked them if they'd read the whole form. Almost everyone said yes, though he believed maybe one in twenty people. Every time he accumulated a few applications, he'd find a Dexbot and ask it to take the forms for their initial processing. At this point in the dating game, processing was synonymous with shredding, but it was highly satisfying to all concerned – for Ben to get rid another application and for the teens applying to see their literary efforts whisked away by the efficient little robots.
Other people wanted to know where they stood, as if Ben had memorized a list of two thousand-plus names and could rattle off individual rankings. He got a lot of unsolicited opinions about Nigel, the general consensus being he was hot and had a sexy accent and had to have eyes so gorgeous that he had to keep them hidden behind those sunglasses. He was also on the receiving end of a lot of explanations as to why the person speaking to him would be the perfect date. Usually these statements were followed by inquiries about what they should wear, Nigel's views about makeup, and who was expected to pay for the date.
And then there were the people who wanted to know if Nigel wasn't available, was Ben interested in going out Friday? How about a double date? It was amazing how many friends thought he was cute and were available. Ben politely turned down all offers, rightly saying he was busy. He fully intended to be naked in the shower with Dexter this Friday night. If he was lucky, he wouldn't need to get dressed until Sunday.
A few people mentioned the application fee, which was a source of confusion. Apparently a number of people had actually paid for copies of the application or paid to have their form given a priority tag. He remembered Mr. Green mentioning how many of the applications had been highlighted in yellow and he'd seen one or two of them himself, but none so marked had made it to the final round.
Regardless of who asked or what their line of questioning, Ben managed to mention the disclaimer to almost everyone. That and blue ink were his last lines of defense.
It took him the better part of an hour to get from the Utonium suite to the cafeteria, a trip that usually took no more than fifteen minutes. Between late applications and relationship questions, he had so much trouble getting through the lines for food that he knew his food would be stone cold, if he ever managed to make it to a seat, of course.
"You're quite popular today," said a quiet voice.
"Edd!" exclaimed Ben, dodging a handful of Valkyries that were trying to corner him. "I can't escape them," he confided. "Listen, want to sit down somewhere quiet?"
Edd cast his usual uneasy look at the crush of ECF and KND troops filling the corporate cafeteria. "Always."
"C'mon."
He waved off more people that wanted to know their chances of dating the ever hot, sexily accented Supreme Leader and lead Double D toward the entrance of the cafeteria where, off a short and quiet hall, was the conference room Dexter had told him he could use. To Ben's relief his badge opened the door. He and Edd slipped into the room just in time to avoid a gaggle of perfect dates for Number One that had followed them in the hopes of getting an edge on the competition.
The room wasn't very large, but it was comfortable and well lit and overlooked a grass garden that was being visited by a great many birds. Edd looked around, smiling in appreciation of the sudden calm and quiet. Ben plunked his tray down and dropped into a chair with a sigh.
"If I ever do anything like this again, stop me."
Edd smiled as he carefully removed the plates from his tray and arranged them on the table so he could see the birds while he ate. Ben watched in amusement, thinking of Dexter. Edd's was definitely a much milder case of OCD.
"You're helping Nigel," Double D replied. "Why would I stop that?"
"Alright, well, next time save me from my own methods of helping him. If turning into an alien won't solve the problem, someone else can handle it."
"Have you tried?"
"What, turning into an alien to find Nigel a replacement for Lizzie? He axed my Goop idea the other day, so no, I haven't. He doesn't want to date an alien. He has standards." In a fit of playful sarcasm, he made quotes in the air as he pronounced that last word.
Smiling, Edd opened a napkin and set it on his lap. "So where are you now?"
Bun dug into his burger and fries. "Well, Dexter, Mr. Green and I went through piles and piles of applications. Someone got access to a copying machine and started churning them out so that we were up to our eyebrows. I swear every last person fighting Planet Fusion except for me and Sergeant Morton applied."
"Ah." The teen squirmed a bit in his seat. "I . . . I think Eddy might have had something to do with that, Ben. He suddenly has a lot of money in his 'chump change' jar."
It fit – all the extra applications, the highlighted pages. All that extra work because the ECF's quartermaster wanted to make a buck. Ben didn't have the time or interest in getting angry, but he did say, "Tell Skipper from me that if he doesn't cut it out immediately and make a very substantial donation to Mrs. Warthog for the pizza party fund by tomorrow, Brainstorm is going to take a good hard look at his accounting books, and he'll tell Dexter and Mandy what he finds."
The threat of an audit was a good one, and Edd smiled in agreement and support. "I'll let him know. I'm sure he'll be thrilled to support such a good cause."
"Yeah, right," was his cynical response. Eddy was about as fond of giving to charity as Dexter was of going camping. "Anyway, I can't tell you how many applications we sorted through. Some of them were pretty funny, sometimes without meaning to be. Did you know Lizzie applied?"
"Somehow that doesn't surprise me," Double D said. "Even if he wasn't the Supreme Leader of the KND, Nigel would definitely be considered a good catch. He's intelligent and very dedicated. I suspect Lizzie quickly came to realize what she'd lost."
"Yeah, especially when the whole army jumped on the bandwagon. Too bad for her. She had her chance and blew it. I told Nigel they'd be lined up to date him."
"Did you apply?"
Ben smiled at the suggestion. "No."
Edd studied him for a few long moments before saying, "You wouldn't have to. You could have just asked him out." He let out a little sigh as he finished.
Few people could have made such a statement without sounding jealous or getting teased, but like Dexter, Edd could state facts simply and without embarrassment. "I'm not exactly available and I don't know if I'd be right for him."
"Have you found someone who is?"
"I think maybe yes. I'm waiting to hear back from Computress on him, but he seems a really cool guy. Really accomplished and capable. He knew Nigel back in the day."
"That's good. It's important that Nigel is happy. Not because of the war, but because he's our friend."
He could sense what Double D wasn't asking, what he was afraid to find out but very much wanted to know.
"For the record, you, Blossom and this other guy made the final cut."
Edd smiled, pleased and just a hint wistful as he said, "Well, it's nice to know I'm almost needed."
That stung a bit, and not because Edd hadn't been picked, but because he lacked the self-assurance to claim the loss was Nigel's. Ben gave him a playful shove and a disbelieving look. "Almost?" he scoffed. Edd rolled with it and gave a little laugh, his spirits recovered a bit by this reaffirmation of friendship.
()()()()()()()()()()
Ben was seriously considering turning into Big Chill and phasing through the window to escape the people massing outside the door, but that would leave Double D to deal with a herd of would-be dates and Ben couldn't throw anyone so sensitive into the dating scene shark tank. They took a long time to eat in the hopes that the applicants would go away, but it was futile. Nigel Uno was too hot a commodity for any of them to back down.
He collected another thirty-odd applications (most written in black ink, he noted, and several with wavering yellow highlighter across the questions) as he ran the gauntlet. Edd volunteered to return his tray and Ben gratefully handed it over rather than fight his way through the cafeteria.
"Tell Eddy I'll be in touch with Mrs. Warthog," reminded Ben, waving the handful of applications.
Double D grinned. "I'm sure he'll tell you himself how happy he is to do it."
He dumped the forms on the first Dexbot he saw and decided the only place he'd be safe from would-be Supreme Leader significant others would be either Mandy's office or down in Dexter's laboratory. The choice was clear, and one long elevator ride later he was stepping into the cool vastness of the Boy Genius' underground lair. He wandered about until he spotted Dexter in full-bore mad scientist mode mucking around with his isotopes in the radiation chamber. Knowing better than to disturb him, Ben watched him through thick layers of shielded glass and took a few moments to appreciate the form-fitting safety gear Dexter was wearing. He knew the gear was heavy because Dexter was moving very slowly as he scienced.
"Hello, Ben."
"Hi, Computress," he said as the computer projected a hologram of her robotic form beside him. Her robotic body was temporarily offline at Dexter's orders since that form had developed an immense crush on Professor Utonium. Dexter hadn't figured out how or why only that aspect of her would do such a thing, but she tended to follow Utonium everywhere and dote on him like a lovesick teenager. Until Dexter corrected the problem, Computress had to be content with holograms. "How's it going with those files you hacked this morning?"
"I'm still working on them. I should have the smallest file ready for viewing this evening."
"Cool. What's Dex up to?"
"He's just doing a routine check of the shielding around the storage unit. He should be finished soon."
He nodded, making up his mind as he dug his phone out of his pocket. He'd entered Chad's number into it before he left the suite this morning, and he wrote a quick text.
Meet at DexLabs Thurs. B10
There. It was at once vague and precise. Let's see how good you are, Mr. Teen Ninja, Ben thought. He hit send before he could change his mind just as the airlocks to the radiation chamber started to open. It was a good ten minutes before Dexter emerged, and he smiled broadly as he pulled off his headgear.
"Ben! You're just in time!"
"What for?" he challenged.
Without breaking eye contact, Dexter unfastened the radiation suit from throat to crotch in a single motion and then in a very suggestive voice, said the word Ben was longing to hear:
"Decontamination."