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started with the word rotting made my nose hairs tingle with delight. “How do you make it?” I asked.
    Dr. Wackjöb explained the fine art of hákarlmaking as we walked. A butcher kills, guts, and debones the shark. He then leaves the meat to rot in a hole covered with stones for two months. After that, he dries the meat in a well-ventilated room for another two months.The Hákarl is then ready for eating.
    â€œWhy do you let it rot?” I wondered. “I mean, why not eat it fresh?”
    â€œSharks that live in the waters around Iceland are poisonous,” Dr.Wackjöb answered in his funny accent. “Those sharks don’t have urinary tracts like you and me. That means they must secrete their urine from their skin. The high amounts of uric acid in the meat are so concentrated that eating it can cause people sickness. If you allow the shark to decay, the urine is naturally removed from the flesh making it digestible.”
    I looked over my shoulder to see if Vivian and the Not-Right Brothers had caught Dr. Wackjöb’s hákarl explanation. From the sickly green expressions on their faces, I could tell they heard every word.
    The observatory was a lot bigger than I had remembered from my first visit. The place had a round roof and was as large as a four-story building.When we walked inside, I saw computers, printers, and other beeping gadgets that looked so hi-tech I didn’t know what they were for.
    Above our heads was something extraordinary.
    â€œThe glass is beautiful,” Vivian said with a hint of awe in voice.
    â€œLike something from a church,” Mumps said.
    â€œWhat you are looking at,” Dr. Wackjöb explained, “is a telescope mirror that allows me to see ten billion light-years into the universe. I call it the Cosmoscope, and the viewer can observe planets that orbit distant suns. I have seen new planets form in spectacular supernova explosions.”
    â€œThis is the most amazing thing I have ever seen in my life,” TJ said, his mouth hanging open in wonderment.
    â€œWhere did you get the glass for the lens?” Jimmy asked.
    â€œI made it myself,” Dr.Wackjöb said with pride. Vivian’s eyes lit up. “How’d you do it?”
    We listened intently to Dr. Wackjöb’s every word as he described the fascinating process. “I heat chunks of glass in a large furnace at two thousand degrees Fahrenheit,” he explained. “The glass melts into a syrupy liquid and then drains into a large mold. The glass takes ninety days to cool enough for the finishing touches.”
    â€œHow do you make—” TJ started to ask, but Dr. Wackjöb cut him off.

    â€œEnough questions for now,” he said. “I want to see this video.”
    I snatched the flash drive out of the seismologist’s hand. “No one sees this video until you answer my question,” I said, my nostrils flaring. “What does Gríöarstór Nef mean?”

CHAPTER 12
    PLANET APNEA
    G ríöarstór Nef means vast nose in Icelandic,” the doctor explained.
    In an instant, the Not-Right Brothers were laughing so hard that tears rolled down their cheeks.
    â€œWe should have called you Super Gríöarstór Nef!” TJ guffawed.
    â€œVery funny,” I said sarcastically. “I wonder what loser translates to in Icelandic.”
    â€œLoser is tapar in my native language,” Dr. Wackjöb said.
    â€œKnock it off, you guys,” Vivian ordered. “All four of you are tapars as far as I’m concerned. Let’s watch the video so we can get down to business.”
    I handed the flash drive back to Dr.Wackjöb and he connected it to his computer.The video started to play and his already pale complexion grew even paler when the creepy shadow materialized into an alien on the screen. I winced inside as the little gray nose-molester shoved the hoses up my two sniffers.
    When the video ended, Dr.