“And this,” the Omnitron said with a wave of its clawed manipulator, “is Zeke Fiddlewood.”

The new recruit took in the portly man before him, from his stained beater shirt to his long grey greasy hair. “The janitor?”

“Negative. In 1984, a voodoo priestess cursed Zeke when his lawn service ran over her prize azaleas. She condemned him to be ‘as dumb as the day is long.'”

“I believe it. So he’s here to cancel out the rest of the genius?”

“Of course not,” the Omnitron said, its synthesized speech sounding vaguely offended. “The Agency sent him to Antarctica. Now, for six months out of the year, he’s the smartest human being on the planet.”

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