Gadget Boy Quotes

He came off so lost, which of course hit all my buttons because who doesn’t dream of finding an incredibly hot boy and fixing him? Straight guys may have cars and gadgets, but girls and gay boys, we like to fix broken boys.

Last December I saw an advertisement outside an electronics store. There was a little boy, delirious with delight, surrounded by computers, stereos, and other gadgets. The text read: “We know what your child wants for Christmas.” I stared at the poster, then said to no one in particular, “What your child wants for Christmas is your love, but if he can’t get that, he’ll settle for a bunch of electronic crap.

But Nick still had one person left to speak to. Mark. “How did you survive?” he asked as Mark left Simi, who was licking her fingers and joined them by the truck. Mark flashed him a grin. “What? Did you forget the first rule I taught you, boy?” Nick scowled as he tried to remember Mark’s various rules for survival. “Duck urine chases away every living and unliving thing?” “Nah, that’s number six. Rule number one: I don’t have to outrun the zombie. I just have to outrun you. How you think Eric and Tabitha got captured?” Tabitha laughed. “Oh please. Inspector Gadget over there made a blowtorch out of Eric’s art sealant and a lighter. I’m not sure the house is stil standing, but he got us out of there and Simi covered the rest of our retreat. We’d have gotten away completely had Eric not tripped and I made the mistake of going back for him while Mark was hot-wiring a neighbour’s car.” Nick laughed at more proof Mark wasn’t completely insane. Never go back for the fallen unless you want to be captured or killed. Unless the fallen was Bubba, who usually had a larger calibre of weapons. Mark sighed. “By the time I realized they weren’t behind me, they were gone and I was sick over it. I really thought they’d gotten eaten. But luckily I saw your girlfriend under attack and, with Simi’s help, was able to get her to safety.

Hey,” Fitz said, leaning closer. “You trust me, don’t you?” Sophie’s traitorous heart still fluttered, despite her current annoyance. She did trust Fitz. Probably more than anyone. But having him keep secrets from her was seriously annoying. She was tempted to use her telepathy to steal the information straight from his head. But she’d broken that rule enough times to know the consequences definitely weren’t worth it. “What is with these clothes?” Biana interrupted, appearing out of thin air next to Keefe. Biana was a Vanisher, like her mother, though she was still getting used to the ability. Only one of her legs reappeared, and she had to hop up and down to get the other to show up. She wore a sweatshirt three sizes too big and faded, baggy jeans. “At least I get to wear my shoes,” she said, hitching up her pants to reveal purple flats with diamond-studded toes. “But why do we only have boy stuff?” “Because I’m a boy,” Fitz reminded her. “Besides, this isn’t a fashion contest.” “And if it was, I’d totally win. Right, Foster?” Keefe asked. Sophie actually would’ve given the prize to Fitz—his blue scarf worked perfectly with his dark hair and teal eyes. And his fitted gray coat made him look taller, with broader shoulders and— “Oh please.” Keefe shoved his way between them. “Fitz’s human clothes are a huge snoozefest. Check out what Dex and I found in Alvar’s closet!” They both unzipped their hoodies, revealing T-shirts with logos underneath. “I have no idea what this means, but it’s crazy awesome, right?” Keefe asked, pointing to the black and yellow oval on his shirt. “It’s from Batman,” Sophie said—then regretted the words. Of course Keefe demanded she explain the awesomeness of the Dark Knight. “I’m wearing this shirt forever, guys,” he decided. “Also, I want a Batmobile! Dex, can you make that happen?” Sophie wouldn’t have been surprised if Dex actually could build one. As a Technopath, he worked miracles with technology. He’d made all kinds of cool gadgets for Sophie, including the lopsided ring she wore—a special panic switch that had saved her life during her fight with one of her kidnappers. “What’s my shirt from?” Dex asked, pointing to the logo with interlocking yellow W’s. Sophie didn’t have the heart to tell him it was the symbol for Wonder Woman.

But the man with the knowhow, the boy who thinks up the gadgets, they can't put him out. I can outsmart 'em at their own game too. We got somethin' bigger down here than they ever dreamed of. And the Administration all fixed up. This is goin' to be big, little girl, the biggest thing you ever saw and I'm goin' to let you in on it. We'll be on easystreet from now on. And when you're on easystreet you'll all forget poor old Charley Anderson the boy that put you wise.

Danny Boy, you are not going to patent the gadget. What would it get you? Seventeen years at the most…and no years at all in three-fourths of the world. If you did patent, or try to, Edison, and P.G. and E…and Standard would tie you up with injunctions and law suits and claimed infringements and I don’t know what all. But you said yourself that you could put one of your gadgets in a room with the best research team G.A. has to offer and the best they could do would be to melt it down and the worse would be that they would blow themselves up. You said that. Did you mean it?” “Certainly. If they don’t know how I insert the—” “Hush! I don’t want to know. And walls have ears. We don’t make any fancy announcements; we simply start manufacturing. Wherever power is cheapest today. Where is that?

No. That’s not what I want. You would have to go all in. We would go out to dinner, see movies, call each other, text. I’d work on your car—you know, the Mustang you left at my house earlier this week—install gadgets you don’t need ’cause you’re my girl. You might come to the Winston place and hang out with us boys. This would be both of us, all in for all twelve months—or less if we find we don’t suit.

Chapter 1: Super Spies Johnny Clunker was a normal and average boy. He was about average height and average build, he had average short brown hair, and a generally nice and normal average smile. Except that he wasn’t too normal or average as far as those words meant. He went to school, tried to do his homework, and did his best to fit in socially during the day. But at night, shy, weak, and timid Johnny Clunker became something else entirely. He became a super spy. He became Johnny B. Fast. He went on important missions to save the world, and they usually went better than the way this one was going right now. What a mess. The entire warehouse was surrounded by United Order spies with top of the line gadgets and weapons. It was a rundown,

Um… you want to hack into the registry again?” Dex tried. Ro snorted. “Wow, you guys are super bad at this. How about I save us all some time and speak for my boy? Okay, so Councillor Sparkle-Eyebrows—” “Who?” Dex interrupted. Ro shrugged. “No idea. Can’t remember his name. You guys have way too many leaders to keep them all straight. All I know is the dude had these huge hairy things above his eyes and a jewel from his crown rested right between them, so I’m calling him Councillor Sparkle-Eyebrows. Anyway, he said my boy’s new elf-y ability is linked to the tone of his voice, and he seemed pretty sure about it. So, assuming he’s right, we need you to use your techy skills to build a gadget that’ll give Hunkyhair better control over that, kinda like you did for Blondie to help with her power-boost-touch thing. And personally, I vote for something that makes his voice extra high-pitched and squeaky—although it could also be fun to make him sound super creepy. Ooo, is there a way to have it switch back and forth?” She smirked at Keefe, daring him to contradict her. But he honestly wouldn’t care if Dex made him sound like a screeching siren, if it made talking safe again. “Welllll,” Dex said, dragging out the word. “I bet I can figure out how to make something like that. But… would it really help? There’s a difference between voice and tone, you know?

There were girls here with fire-engine-red lips, and boys with such pronounced eyeliner that it looked permanent. And as you moved back to the dancefloor, the music overwhelmed you: Yellow Magic Orchestra, Space, Ultravox, Eno, Fad Gadget, Sparks, Grace Jones, Thomas Leer, Cerrone, Psychedelic Furs and Bowie, obviously, lots of Bowie. On and on it went, a constant swirl of automated Germanic beats – hard-edged European disco, synth-led, bass-heavy … all very angular: Kraftwerk and Gina X, Giorgio Moroder and Donna Summer, and some early Roxy Music.

He came off so lost, which of course hit all my buttons because who doesn’t dream of finding an incredibly hot boy and fixing him? Straight guys may have cars and gadgets, but girls and gay boys, we like to fix broken boys.

However, the spooky boys of the super secret Technical Laboratory failed to impress me. I possessed a vast library on the various facades of technical intelligence. I was amused to see the rudimentary wireless sets (some manufactured by the IB technicians at mount joy), clandestine cameras, miniature radio transmitters and a few bugging tools flaunted by the so-called experts as the main tools of technical intelligence. These gadgets were shown to us like the magicians pulling out an occasional rabbit from their hats. I don’t think anyone emerged out of the classrooms much wiser about the application of electronic gadgets for generating intelligence

And so I went to bed. I was the last one left, the last one out of a bunch of boys who belonged to 83 Squadron at the beginning of the war, to fight until the end of Hitlerism. They had all fought well, but they had paid the price. Some were prisoners of war, I knew, but many were dead. As I lay in bed thinking, I knew I was lucky to survive, but it would come to me any day now. We would go on and on until the whole squadron was wiped out, then there would be new boys to carry on our traditions, new squadrons, new gadgets and new ground crews to crack jokes with us as we took the air. I did not see any point in living. For the moment I didn’t even care about Eve. All my friends had gone now—there were new people—different—with different views on life, different jokes and different ways of living. I was the last one left.

Dear Young Black Males… I encourage you to NOT spend your money frivolously. It’s imperative that you save and invest, too! Don’t be so easily flattered by materiel things that hold no value. It’s time to think and plan long-term! Be inspired about building wealth by reading, taking classes, attending seminars, watching YouTube videos, following reputable people online that specialize in investing and finances, getting a mentor, etc. I cannot stress it enough… Utilize your mind, and educate yourself about money! Upgrade your thinking, young Kings! Shoes, clothes, jewelry, cars, and the latest gadgets are of no real value to you. Focus on building assets!