BUT THERE’S MORE TO CODES
THAN LETTER WHEELS. IN FACT,
THERE ARE LOTS OF WAYS TO
SEND A SECRET MESSAGE. SOME
SPIES USE INVISIBLE INK, AND
I’M GOING TO SHOW YOU HOW
TO MAKE IT. ISN’T THAT COOL?
WHY, YOU PROBABLY THOUGHT
THE PRICE OF THIS BOOK WAS
OUTRAGEOUS, BUT LOOK AT
ALL THE PRACTICAL STUFF
I’M TEACHING YOU!
HMM, MAYBE WE SHOULD CHARGE
MORE . . .
OK, TO MAKE INVISIBLE INK
YOU’RE GOING TO NEED SOME
INGREDIENTS. UNFORTUNATELY,
THE INGREDIENTS ARE ALSO
INVISIBLE.
WOW, YOU ARE GULLIBLE.
HERE’S WHAT YOU’RE GOING
TO NEED:
• A PAN AND A STOVE
• CORNSTARCH
• WATER
• COTTON SWABS
• PAPER
• IODINE
• A SMALL SPONGE
NOW, BEFORE WE MAKE
THE INVISIBLE INK, I NEED TO
TEST YOU TO MAKE SURE YOU
HAVE THE BRAINPOWER
TO ACTUALLY DO THIS.
QUESTION 1:
IF I USE THE STOVE WITHOUT
MY PARENTS’ SUPERVISION,
I COULD:
• BURN THE HOUSE DOWN
• BURN THE HOUSE DOWN
• BURN THE HOUSE DOWN
• ALL OF THE ABOVE
IF YOU GUESSED ANY OF THE
ANSWERS ABOVE, YOU ARE NOT A
MORON AND THUS WILL KNOW TO
MAKE SURE YOUR PARENTS ARE
WATCHING YOU WHILE YOU COOK
ON THE STOVE. IF YOU GOT THIS
QUESTION WRONG, YOU ARE A
MORON. YOUR PARENTS PROBABLY
ALREADY KNOW THIS. YOU SHOULD
STEER CLEAR OF THE STOVE, AND
FIRE IN GENERAL.
ALL RIGHT, BRAINIAC, LET’S
MAKE US SOME INVISIBLE INK.
MIX 3 TABLESPOONS OF
CORNSTARCH AND 1/4 CUP OF
WATER IN A PAN AND STIR UNTIL
THE CORNSTARCH IS DISSOLVED.
COOK ON LOW HEAT UNDER
A PARENT’S CAREFUL EYE.
ARE YOUR PARENTS AROUND? GOOD.
LET IT COOL FOR A FEW MINUTES,
THEN DIP A COTTON SWAB OR Q-TIP
INTO THE SOLUTION AND WRITE A
SECRET MESSAGE ON A PIECE OF
PAPER. NOW, IN A BOWL, MIX 3
TEASPOONS OF IODINE WITH 2/3 CUP
OF WATER. DIP YOUR SPONGE INTO
IT, MAKING SURE TO SQUEEZE OUT
EXCESS WATER. NOW WIPE THE
SPONGE ON YOUR MESSAGE.
IF YOU FOLLOWED THE
DIRECTIONS EXACTLY,
THEN YOU SHOULD SEE
YOUR MESSAGE IN
PURPLE. IF NOT, WELL,
I DON’T KNOW. I MEAN,
I CAN ONLY DO SO MUCH.
Spencer de La Peña was a novelist. For the last five years of his life, he got up in the morning, ate an egg-white omelet, and bicycled to the local coffee shop on the corner of Wykoff Avenue and Smith Street in Brooklyn. All day long he drank from a bottomless cup of coffee and worked on a sweeping epic about the last days of feudal China. It was a complicated and demanding story with hundreds of characters and thus far had not found a publisher—but it would! Spencer was convinced.
He would write the whole day, and at five o’clock sharp, with his hands so shaky from the caffeine he could barely type, he would file away his novel and go to work on the job that paid his bills—writing comic books.
Spencer was currently working on three titles at the same time: Sgt. Blast, Ultraforce, and Clash of Heroes. Each one was filled with costumed guys who punched one another in the mouth a lot. He had come to comics hoping to give them some depth, but after only a few issues of his retelling of Medea, his editor informed him that readers were not interested in depth. They wanted more punches to the mouth. But hey, it paid the bills.