“Well, I’ll tell you,” the katydid whispered. “But you’re not going to like it. Promise you won’t squish me if you don’t like it.”

Emilee rubbed her ear near where the insect was perched. “I never squash anything that talks. That’s my policy and it’s served me well.”

“Very well. I’ve never left this cavern, you see, but I hear a lot of things from the others in the common patois of insects and other arthropods,” the katydid said. “You’re in the thermal caverns of Bakutis, deep below Marie Byrd Land in Antarctica, many unfathomable leagues from the nearest settlement of your kind.”

Emilee’s hand dropped. “What?”

“Yes, I realize those are the human names for these features,” the katydid continued, “but you must understand that we small ones have little use for names and are happy to use human ones when the need arises. Why, some of the humans who have visited us in the past have even named parts of the caves. I can show you to their dessicated remains if you’d like.”

Overcome with revulsion, Emilee flicked the katydid off her ear.

“You promised!” it cried.

“I never said anything about flicking!” Emilee cried apologetically. “Sorry!”

“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.”