“This is great, Dad,” I said. “So how’s everything work?”

“I’m sure a genius like you can figure it out in no time,” said Pork Chop, snapping her bubblegum.

“It’s all very user-friendly,” said Dad. “I don’t think any of you will have any trouble getting the hang of it.”

“Actually, it’s my four copilots who’ll be getting the hang of it,” I said. “I’m driving.”

They groaned but settled into the back of the van without another note of complaint as I drove toward the outskirts of town. They’re good friends like that.

As we made our way down the quaint residential streets, you couldn’t help noticing the windows of nearly every house glowing with the eerie blue flicker of TV and computer screens. This thing called Contemporary America-and its obsession with televisions, game systems, and computers-has gone a little far if you ask me. Some call it the Information Age, but I’d tend to say it’s more the Sitting-on-one’s-butt-and-letting-other-people-do-the-thinking-for-you Age.

“You guys find anything useful back there?” I asked, turning onto Mulberry from Larch.

“Yes, I think I have our first target!” said Joe. “There’s a whole mess of ’em in a building about a half mile from us. Hang a left here and then a right at the next stoplight.”

“How many are there?” asked Willy, practicing some jujitsu moves in the middle of the van.

“Can’t tell yet. Hang on, okay?” Joe remained intent on his data feed. I turned at the light onto a commercial street lined with stores and shopping plazas.

“Okay, it’s up there on the right,” said Joe. “Should say ‘ White Castle ’ on it… and it’s absolutely infested with… hamburgers!”

We pelted him with food wrappers, empty soda cans, a couple of dirty sneakers. I should’ve remembered that no mission is more important to Joe than filling his supersize-me stomach.