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that could move the world, maybe the universe.
        
         VJ whistled as he freewheeled down Stanhope Street. He had his down parka zipped up to keep out the cold wind, and his hands were crammed into mittens filled with the same insulation the astronauts used.
         Switching his bike into the highest gear possible, he caught up to the pedals. With the swish of the wind and the whine from the tires, he felt like he was going a hundred miles an hour. He was free. No more school for a week. No more need to pretend in front of the teachers and those kids. He could spend his time doing what he'd been born to accomplish. He smiled a strange, unchildlike grin. His blue eyes blazed and he was happy his mother was nowhere near to see him. He had a mission, just like his father. And he could not let anything interfere.
         VJ had to slow when he reached the small town of North Andover. He pedaled up the center of the main shopping street and stopped in front of the local bank, where he parked his bike in a metal rack and locked it with his Kryptonite lock. Slinging his saddlebags over his shoulder, he climbed the three brownstone steps and went inside.
         "Good morning, Mr. Frank," the manager said, twisting around in his swivel desk chair. His name was Harold Scott and VJ generally tried to avoid him, but since his desk was just to the right of the entrance, it was difficult. "May I talk with you, young man?"
         VJ paused, considered his options, then reluctantly detoured to the man's desk.
         "I know you are a good customer of the bank," Harold said, "so I thought it would be appropriate if I discussed with you some of the benefits of banking here. Do you understand the concept of interest, young man?"
         "I believe so," VJ answered.
         "If so, then I wanted to ask why you don't have a savings account for your paper route money?"
         "Paper route?" VJ questioned.
         "Yes," Harold answered. "You told me some time ago that you had a paper route. I assume you still have it since you are still coming into the bank on a fairly regular basis."
         "Of course I still have it," VJ answered. Now he remembered having been previously cornered by the same man. It must have been a year ago.
         "Once your money is in a savings account, it begins to work for you. In fact your money grows. Let me give you an example."
         "Mr. Scott," VJ said as the manager got some paper from a drawer at his desk. "I don't have a lot of time. My father expects me at his lab."
         "This won't take long," Harold said. He then proceeded to show Victor what happened to twenty dollars left in The North Andover National Bank for twenty years. When he was finished, he asked: "What do you say? Does this convince you."
         "Absolutely," VJ said.
         "Well then," Harold said. He took some forms from another drawer and quickly filled them in. Then he pushed them in front of VJ and pointed to a dotted line near the bottom. "Sign here."
         Dutifully VJ took the pen and signed his name.
         "Now then," Harold repeated. "How much would you like to deposit?"
         VJ chewed his cheek, then extracted his wallet. He had three dollars in it. He took them out and gave them to Harold.
         "Is this all?" Harold questioned. "How much do you make a week with your paper route? You have to start a habit of savings early in your life."
         "I'll add to it," VJ said.
         Taking the forms and the bills, Harold went behind the teller's window. He had to be buzzed in through the plexiglass door. When he returned, he handed VJ a deposit slip. "This is an important day in your life," Harold said.
         VJ nodded, pocketed the slip, then went to the rear of the bank. He watched Mr. Scott. Thankfully a customer came in and sat down at his desk.
         VJ buzzed for the attendant for the safe deposit vault. A few minutes later he was safely in one of the