Tesla's Attic (9781423155126) (22 page)

W
hen it was clear that the earth was still here, and would remain here indefinitely, people got pissed off. Across the globe, valuable possessions had been given away, and guilty consciences had been purged by shocking confessions, all in the belief that no one would live to regret it.

But the astronomers were wrong, and Felicity Bonk turned out to be a fickle lover. For although she had brazenly courted the planet, something had knocked her off her intended path, leaving her in a harmless, platonic orbit that barely even affected the tides.

The following morning a national holiday was declared, and a parade was established, with the real Felicity Bonk herself riding and waving from the lead float, as if she had done anything more than pay ten bucks for a big rock. By noon, people were already arguing about what to call the day, and whether or not it should be shifted to a Monday in future years to create a three-day weekend. Regardless, “Bonk Tuesday,” as it was currently called, was sure to be celebrated in one form or another for years to come.

Petula, in spite of resolving not to, called Mitch that morning. “I told myself that the world would have to end before I accepted your invitation to the movies,” she said. “Close enough.” Then she gave him the time, place, and movie of her choosing, and suggested that a corsage would not be inappropriate.

Mitch, however, had other plans. “Actually, I'm going to visit my father today,” he told her. “After what happened yesterday, I've really come to appreciate what little time I get with him.”

“What?!” said Petula, suitably disgusted. “Is your father more important than a date with me?”

“Well…yes,” he told her reluctantly, “but you're important, too.”

“Fine. You will not get another chance. How about Saturday?”

He agreed, and she hung up on him, feeling frustrated by her own happiness over the matter.

That afternoon, Petula joined Ms. Planck for a stroll in Acacia Park, where they had first bonded over photography.

“The thing to keep in mind,” Ms. Planck said, “is that you and I saved the world.”

“How do you figure?”

“Simple,” Ms. Planck explained. “If we hadn't intervened, with me holding up the enlargement at the precise time and place for you to catch it with the box camera, then your picture of the end of the world would have been the real thing. Thanks to us, it wasn't.”

“I still don't get it,” Petula confessed. “If the camera took a picture of a picture, where did the original image come from?”

Ms. Planck smiled. “Ah, I love a good paradox. Don't you?” They walked on a bit. “Think about it when you go to bed,” she told Petula. “It's better than counting sheep.”

That made Petula smile.

It was late afternoon. The sound of children in the playground became distant as they neared Ms. Planck's town house. In this quiet part of the park, they were very much alone. That's when Ms. Planck knelt down in front of Petula. Smiling warmly, she said, “I have a gift for you. Something very special to commemorate your noble actions.”

She opened a small jewelry box, revealing a shiny gold pin in the shape of the letter
A
, but with the symbol for infinity through its center.

“Wear this close to your heart, Petula,” Ms. Planck told her, “but don't let anyone see it.”

“What is it?”

“It's a sign that you belong to a very special organization.”

Petula turned the small pin over in her hands, watching it catch the light. No one had ever given her a gift of jewelry before, unless you count the friendship ring she wore on her pinkie. But she had bought that for herself.

“This organization…is it secret?”

“Very much so. A group of people wise beyond words, shrewd beyond measure, and destined to steer the course of all mankind.”

Petula liked the sound of that, so she fastened the pin beneath the collar of her blouse, hidden from view.

“Thank you, Ms. Planck,” Petula said. “But if you're part of this group, why do you serve us lunch?”

“We're in all walks of life, honey,” Ms. Planck told her with the slightest of grins. “That's how we spot those who belong among us…and how we monitor certain persons of interest.”

“So,” said Petula, “you're undercover.”

Ms. Planck stood up and continued walking beside her. “I prefer to call it hiding in plain sight.”

Petula could relate. In a sense she felt like she'd been hiding in plain sight all her life, but now it would be with a purpose. She thought about how Nick Slate had humiliated her, when all she had tried to do was save him. An icy vein of anger coursed through her.

“What are you thinking?” asked Ms. Planck.

“I was thinking that success is the best revenge.”

“No, dear,” Ms. Planck corrected. “Revenge is the best revenge. But we'll have plenty of time to discuss such things.”

“Will I meet other members of this club,” Petula asked, “and find out more about what you do?”

“You will,” Ms. Planck said, “you will. And you can't imagine how thrilling your life is about to become.”

Only now that the crisis had been averted did Nick's and Caitlin's attention turn to their fallen friend. They sat in Nick's room, Caitlin tearful and Nick nearly so, as they lamented how poor Vince was caught squarely in the wrong place at the wrong time. Although Nick knew that it had been the Accelerati's doing, he couldn't get past the fact that it was his hand that had aimed and fired the weapon that killed him.

“You can't think that way,” Caitlin said, her voice soothing. “If you do, then they win.” But Nick just shook his head. “It could have been any of us,” Caitlin continued. “Your father. Your brother.”

“Am I supposed to be happy it was Vince instead of them? Or you? It shouldn't have been anyone.”

Caitlin dropped her shoulders and sighed. “I'm sorry. I'm just trying to help.”

Nick gently touched her knee, a gesture that would have felt terribly awkward a week ago. “I know,” he said. “Thanks.”

They sat in silence for a moment, pondering Tesla's incomplete device before them.

“Without all the pieces,” Caitlin said, “we'll never get it to work. In fact, we'll probably never even know exactly what it does.”

“I'm not so sure of that,” said Nick. He stood up and approached the odd-looking device, taking it in from all angles, as he had done since yesterday. “Did you know that the asteroid is made mostly of copper ore?” he asked. “NASA's already talking about sending up a mining probe.”

“Great,” said Caitlin. “So what?”

“The thing is,” said Nick slowly, “I've been thinking. The core of the earth is mostly iron, right? That's why we have a humongous magnetic field. And you know what happens when you send a bunch of copper spinning around a magnetic field?”

Caitlin thought for a moment and gasped. “It's a generator.”

“One so big it could power the entire world. For free…or for
F.R.E.E.
…”

“The ‘Far Range Energy Emitter,'” Caitlin said.

“Exactly. The only device that can harness that energy.” Nick glanced at Tesla's incomplete electronic puzzle, standing in the sweet spot of his room right beneath the pyramidal skylight, waiting for the rest of its wayward parts. Yet even incomplete, the machine gave off a sort of electric anticipation. It was as if somehow Tesla had planned for all of this—the garage sale, the asteroid, Nick's father's triumphant baseball swing.

“I know this sounds weird,” Nick told Caitlin, “but it's like we're all a part of this machine. The things we've done—the things we still have to do—they're all connected.”

He thought Caitlin might think he was nuts, but instead she said, “I know exactly what you mean.”

The ramifications made them both light-headed. Nick had to sit down on his bed. And when he did, he felt something crinkle beneath the covers.

Caitlin smirked. “Eating chips in bed?”

“That wasn't a chip.”

Nick threw back the covers to find a picture. Not of someone, but something. A starscape.

“I know what that is,” said Caitlin. “It's the Horsehead Nebula.”

Nick went slightly pale. “The Accelerati.” There was no other explanation. They had been here, and they had left the Horsehead in his bed as a warning.

He turned it over. On the back was a paraphrase of a quote attributed to the Accelerati's founder, Thomas Edison.
We never
do anything by accident.

Nick took a deep breath and said to Caitlin, “Well, neither did Tesla. And neither do I.” He crumpled up the photo in his hand.

Then he went to the device and made a decision. No outcome is certain, even when it seems so. Fates can change with the swing of a bat, or the flip of a switch, or the closing of a circuit. The somewhat mad genius who had orchestrated the world's potential end, its potential salvation, and all the potential energy it might ever need, knew that better than anyone.

It all came down to how far you dared to go to accomplish what the world thinks can't be done.

And so, taking a lesson from Tesla, Nick knelt down and pulled the wet cell out from the heart of the device, because currently it was needed elsewhere.

As he tugged it out, the toaster, perched slightly higher, fell, once again hitting him on the head.

“Ow,” he said, putting his hand to his forehead. Caitlin hurried over to him. “Great,” Nick said, “just what I need; another trip to the emergency room.”

“Let me see,” Caitlin said, taking his hand and moving it away. “Well, it's not bleeding, although you may have a nasty bump.” Then she took his head in his hands, leaned forward, and kissed it. “There. All better.”

For a few seconds Nick felt like he had been knocked off his feet by Tesla's cosmic bat, but he only smiled. “That's much better medicine than stitches,” he told her. Then he stood up and headed for the ladder. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” Caitlin asked, standing up.

“Where do you think?” he said. “To find Vince.”

Caitlin glanced at the wet cell in his hands and understood. “You can't be serious.”

“Why not?”

Caitlin stuttered. “I mean, it's not like we can keep that thing hooked to him twenty-four/seven.…”

Nick shrugged. “Why not?”

And since Caitlin could not find any reason why not, she shrugged back and said, “Okay.”

“Besides, it's what Vince always wanted, isn't it? To be undead. He was already something of a zombie. Now it will be official.”

“Shouldn't it bother us?” Caitlin asked as they clattered down the ladder. “Messing with life and death and things we don't fully understand?”

“If we fully understood them,” said Nick, “what would be the point of messing with them?”

And together Nick and Caitlin set out into the bright afternoon, their hearts filled with a rare and special joy, as they went to reanimate their dead friend.

NEAL SHUSTERMAN
is the author of thirty books for young readers, including the best-selling Unwind and Skinjacker trilogies, and the critically acclaimed
The Schwa Was Here
and
Downsiders.
As a screen and TV writer, Neal created scripts for the
Goosebumps
and
Animorphs
TV series, and he wrote the Disney Channel Original Movie
Pixel Perfect
. Neal has two grown sons, and he lives with his two daughters in Southern California. For more information, go to
www.storyman.com.

ERIC ELFMAN
is a screenwriter, a professional writing coach, and the author of several books for children and young adults, including
The Very Scary Almanac
and
The Almanac of the Gross, Disgusting & Totally Repulsive
; three X-Files novels; and two books of scary short stories,
Three-Minute Thrillers
and
More Three-Minute Thrillers
. He has sold screenplays to Interscope, Walden Media, Revolution, and Universal Studios. He lives in Los Angeles with his wife and son. Visit his Web site at
www.ElfmanWorld.com.