2011 Writing Contest: Be the Change You Want to See
Third Place Creative Writing
Flex Adams: Secret Agent Extraordinaire
I woke with a hearty yawn as the midmorning sun shone in through my half-closed blinds. I blinked and sleepily rubbed my eyes. As I stumbled out of bed, I jammed my toe on the corner of my bookcase, and silently cursed as I hobbled into my closet, ready to get dressed for the day. Twenty minutes later, I descended the stairs and shielded my eyes from the blinding light streaming in from the sliding glass door in my kitchen. I opened my freezer and shivered as a blast of frigid air emerged from the freezer's icy bowels. As I reached into the freezer for my delicious breakfast of Eggo waffles, my phone began to ring. It was work; they needed me to come in ASAP. As a museum curator, my job always keeps me on my toes. However, that job is only a front for something much bigger. In reality, I am Professor Flex Adams, secret agent extraordinaire.
As my Mercedes Benz roared toward the office, I was puzzled. What could possibly warrant this unexpected call to me on my day off? This must be a big mission, one only fit for the one and only Flex Adams. I swerved into my parking space and quickly cut off the roar of the engine as I bounded out of the car. I hustled into work at a brisk pace and entered the bathroom. Entering stall #3, I reached into the toilet paper holder and pressed the expertly hidden secret button. With a soft whoosh, a keypad emerged from the automated flusher. With a flourish I entered my code, and the secret doors behind the toilet slid open with a sudden jerk. I strolled in and quickly went to the conference room. As I walked in, I saw that my boss, Magnus von Magnerson, was already there. As I sat down, he began to talk, and the enormity of the situation was quickly revealed to me. This mission was of utmost importance, and MUST be completed.
Apparently my innocent city of Fictionville was the third-largest waste producer in the world. My task, though daunting and intimidating, was to find ways to cut the waste. As he spoke, it was as if a brilliant light bulb went off in my head, and instantly an idea blossomed in my head. Recycling was the key, not just for the protection of the environment, but also for the economy of our city at the moment. As it always seems in fictional stories, there was a Nissan manufacturing plant in our city that used old recyclables to create many of the interior components of their cars. My idea, so ingenious that it could have only been conceived by a person with intelligence as great as mine, was so simple I couldn't believe we hadn't thought of it before. If I could raise awareness of recycling in our city, we could give those materials to the Nissan plant for free. This sudden decrease in their input costs would raise their producer surplus, which would give a dramatic boost to Nissan's profits. If their profits increased, they would be more likely to hire more workers. This increase in worker demand would increase their wage, therefore increasing the overall equity of people in my town who worked at the plant.
My plan was so ingenious, yet how could I implement it? Then once again my powerful brain hit me with a sudden burst of inspiration. I'd put together a committee that would mail propaganda that would inform people of the advantages of the recycling and why they should do it. After this, I could go and collect the recyclables and deliver them to the Nissan plant myself. Who knows, maybe I'll even get a discount on a new car. Well, let's just say my boss loved it and jumped at the idea. Once again, a world disaster is thwarted by me. What can I say? The name's Adams, Flex Adams.