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he learns how to fly. That could come in handy.”
    Colin’s mother said, “It’s starting!”
    Colin pulled one of the cushions off the sofa and stretched out on the floor, facing the television set.
    The screen showed lots of old footage of the superheroes in action—most of it very shaky and out of focus—then cut to a black-and-white photograph of a handsome gray-haired man in his midforties.
    “Maxwell Edwin Dalton,” the presenter’s voice said. “Billionaire CEO of MaxEdDal Pharmaceuticals, first came to public notice when…”
    Colin twisted around to face his mother. “What’s CEO mean?”
    “Chief executive officer,” she replied. “The boss, in other words.”
    Colin turned back to see that the screen was now showing the outside of the MaxEdDal headquarters in Manhattan. “At the age of fifteen,” the voice continued, “young Max Dalton discovered that he had the ability to know what other people were thinking, and to some degree influence their thoughts to make them do what he wanted. Yet, unlike most other superhumans, he chose to go public with his abilities. With his younger sister and brother, Roz and Joshua, he formed The High Command.” The screen showed photos of the Daltons as teenagers.
    “Is that the best they can do?” Colin asked. “Isn’t there any film of Max in action? You know, actually doing something?”
    It was another fifteen minutes before the presenter finally said, “Tonight, Maxwell Dalton will give his first interview since the events of the original Mystery Day. That’s next, coming right up after this!”
    The television cut to a commercial. Colin yawned.
    “I heard that the TV stations are charging a fortune for these ads,” Caroline said. “Twice as much as they charge for ads during the Super Bowl.”
    When the program finally returned, the interviewer was sitting behind a desk. To his right, on a long leather sofa, sat Max Dalton. He was dressed in a sports jacket, white shirt open at the collar and faded jeans.
    “He looks, well, kind of ordinary,” Colin said. “I thought he’d be bigger.”
    “Shhh!”
    “Thank you for joining us, Mr. Dalton,” the interviewer said.
    “It’s my pleasure, Garth,” Dalton said, smiling. His teeth were the whitest Colin had ever seen.
    “Now, first, I guess the most obvious question—and one that I’m sure most people want to know—is why now? Why, after all these years, have you decided to finally break your silence?”
    Max paused for a second. “Tomorrow’s the tenth anniversary. I think ten years is long enough to wait.”
    “Tell me this, Max…Can you read my mind right now?”
    Smiling, Max said, “Garth, I don’t do that sort of thing anymore. Those days are gone.”
    “Tell us about those days, if you will.”
    “Much of what has been written about my life as a superhero is apocryphal at best.”
    “Apocryphal?” Colin asked.
    “Made-up,” his mother said.
    Max continued. “Yes, we fought crime, helped people, tried to make the world a better place. If you’ve been given a gift—like I was—you’re honor-bound to use it for the greater good.”
    “And can you tell us what happened ten years ago?”
    “Despite what a lot of people have been saying, I wasn’t there. So your guess is as good as mine, Garth. All I know is that Ragnarök had built some enormous machine and was driving it straight for Manhattan. Then…Well, who can say? There was a big explosion and that was it. No more superhumans.”
    “Except yourself—and your brother and sister.”
    Max nodded. “Exactly. I have no idea what happened. Josh and I visited the site the following day. All we found was a lot of wreckage.”
    “No bodies?”
    “No.”
    “Doesn’t that seem strange, that you have no more of an idea what happened than we do? Surely you must know something !”
    “Now, that’s why I don’t usually do interviews. You have to remember that we lost some very good friends during that battle. Energy,