The Journal of Curious Letters

by James Dashner

  “What do you mean?” Paul asked. “The same power exists in other places?”

  “Why, yes, of course. It’s even here in Reality Prime—though thankfully not the dark and sinister version that exists in the Thirteenth. Ever heard of luck?”

  Master George continued, excited, not bothering to wait for anyone to answer. “The Chi’karda is essentially the power of conviction, of belief, of strong choices. There have been instances where wonderful things have occurred, where the tiny world of quantum physics has fundamentally changed because of an overwhelming, powerful display of Chi’karda. Some call it a lucky break, good fortune, a windfall, a crazy coincidence. Oh, it’s happened plenty, but in the Thirteenth, the Chi’karda has mutated into something hideous.”

  “Man,” Paul said. “That is just plain awesome.”

  “Awesome?” Master George asked, his tone suggesting he felt exactly the opposite. “I assure you, there’s nothing awesome about it once you know what Mistress Jane intends to do with this dark Chi’karda.”

  “Who is this Mistress Jane?” Sofia asked, glancing at Tick then at Master George. “Norbert told us she went looking for you in Alaska. He said she threatened him.”

  Master George’s face grew dark. “Mistress Jane is the most foul, despicable, wretched creature to ever walk the folds of the Realities. She was once one of us, someone who worked toward understanding and unity. But she betrayed us for hopes of glory and power. We have many spies in her camp, and we’re certain she plans to annihilate the Reality system in its entirety. You have no idea the ramifications of her twisted plans.”

  “The tree,” Rutger said through a yawn.

  “Pardon me?” Master George replied.

  “The tree, the tree! Use your analogy to explain what she wants to do.”

  “Ah, yes.” Master George turned his attention back to the kids. “Imagine the tree for me again, if you will. One of the big branches we talked about—one of the main Realities that shoots off from the trunk of Reality Prime—is now under the control of Mistress Jane. Using the dark Chi’karda of the Thirteenth Reality, Mistress Jane plans to sever the other branches from the trunk, if you will, destroying them entirely. Then she can conquer Reality Prime and rule the known universe. If that happens, she’d be able to create her own twisted Realities at will, essentially recreating the tree for her own purposes.”

  If the other kids in the group were anything like Tick, all Master George saw at that moment were wide-eyed stares. Tick had a feeling they underestimated the horrible intentions of Mistress Jane.

  “Oh, poppycock, we’re getting too deep into all of this,” Master George complained as he paced back and forth in front of the fire. “All you need to know is there are different versions of the world we live in called Realities and all of them are important in their own way. Mistress Jane plans to use her newly discovered powers to destroy life as we know it. And we, the Realitants—and I mean we—must stop her.”

  “How?” Tick and Paul asked in unison.

  Master George smiled. “Ah, yes, how indeed. It’s time for the fun part, my good people. I have something to show you.” He walked through a small door in the far corner of the room, reappearing a few seconds later. In his hand he held a long golden rod, at least three feet in length and several inches in diameter; it shone and sparkled in the firelight, polished to perfection. Up and down one entire side were a series of dials and knobs and switches, a small label below each one. Once he returned to his lecture spot, Master George held the rod high for everyone to see.

  “This, my friends,” he said proudly, “is a Barrier Wand.”

  Oohs and ahs sounded across the room.

  “This instrument—and the Chi’karda Drive within its inner chamber—is the single most important invention in the history of mankind. I say this without the slightest pause, knowing it’s true. It is the only way a person can travel from one Reality to another. It harnesses and controls the power of the Chi’karda—manipulates it, bends it, wields it, shapes it.”

  Master George ran his hand down the length of the device. “This is how we control travel between the barriers of the Realities—what we call winking, because it literally happens in the blink of an eye. Without this Barrier Wand, and the few others like it, there would be no study of the Realities, no travel between them, no . . . Mistress Jane problem, actually. If we can remove her Barrier Wand from the Thirteenth Reality, she and her twisted powers will be trapped there for a very long time. Enough time for us to devise a more permanent solution to the problem.”

  “How does the Barrier Wand work?” Paul asked.

  “Oh, yes, thank you for asking.” Master George held the golden rod up so everyone could clearly see as he pointed out the controls running down the near side. “You simply adjust the doohickey here, then the thingamajig here, then the whatchamacallit here, and so forth and so on. It’s simple really. Trust me—it does work. With this Wand, you can control the Chi’karda to such a degree that it will transport you between Realities.”

  “Ooh, can I see it?” Sofia asked, her hands twitching with curiosity to hold the Wand.

  “Of course. Come on up, all of you. Have a look!”

  Tick shot out of his chair, grimacing at the coldness of his still-damp pants, and got to Master George first. He laughed out loud when he was close enough to read the labels on the instrument. “I thought you were joking.”

  “Joking about what?” Master George asked.

  “The most important scientific discovery of all time, and the first dial is called the Doohickey?” Tick pointed to a neatly printed label on the Wand.

  Sofia chuckled as she pointed at a small switch. “And there’s the Thingamajig.”

  “That’s for a very important reason, thank you very much,” Master George said, momentarily pulling the Barrier Wand away from the kids. “It’s so spying eyes can’t figure out how it works. We’ve labeled them that way on purpose.”

  “Ingenious,” Paul snickered.

  Tick looked over at Sato, still sitting on the couch, arms folded in defiance. “Don’t you want to see it?”

  Sato stared at the floor. “Leave me alone.”

  Tick shrugged, then surprised himself when he let out a huge yawn. He glanced at his watch, surprised to see it was almost three o’clock in the morning.

  Master George seemed to sense Tick’s thoughts. “It’s grown very late indeed, my good associates. It’s almost morning here. I think we should all be off to bed. We can finish our discussion tomorrow. There is still much to learn—and much to prepare for.”

  “Wait a minute—” Paul began.

  “No, no, no,” Master George said, waving his Wand like a great magician. “We must have fresh minds to continue. To bed it is—no arguments. No need to worry about the dirty plates; I’ll be happy to clean up.”

  A hand grabbed Tick’s shoulder and he turned to see Mothball.

  “Come on,” she said. “Off we go. I’ll be showin’ ya to yer sleepin’ quarters. Methinks we could all use a good night’s rest, I do. Come on.”

  She moved toward the side door. Tick, Sofia, and Paul fell in line behind her, grumbling like two year olds who didn’t want to go to bed.

  Sato didn’t move a muscle.

  “Looks like Mr. Happy will be sleeping on the couch,” Paul whispered to Tick as they stepped through the door.

  ~

  Sato fumed on the inside as he sat alone in the big room, the fire spitting, slowly fading to ashes. Master George hadn’t so much as given him a glance, completely ignoring Sato’s obvious distrust and unhappiness. They all ignored him for the most part, thinking they were so smart and so funny. Better than Sato.

  Little did they know he’d listened intently to every single word that came out of the old man’s mouth, storing them away inside his computer of a mind, learning every morsel. He had to know every piece of the puzzle if he hoped to accomplish what he’d planned to do from the very first day he’d received the lette
r from M.G.

  He had to make things right. To quench the thirst for revenge that consumed him. To avenge the death of his family.

  I need to stay sharp, he thought. Befriend no one. He couldn’t trust anyone, precisely for the very reason his family died.

  No, Sato would never make the same fatal mistake his parents had. And he’d never trust another person ever again.

  Especially Master George.

  Chapter

  43

  ~

  A Bump in the Night

  These are our digs?” Paul asked.

  “I miss my mansion,” Sofia moaned.

  Tick agreed. Their “sleeping quarters” didn’t look very inviting. They stood in a small rectangular room in which six cots had been set up, three along each of the longer walls. Folded gray and black blankets and pillows lay stacked on top of each cot. The only other furniture in the room was a desk and a three-drawer wooden dresser. The floor of the room was a flat metallic gray.

  “Would you rather sleep out in the raft?” Rutger asked. “We can arrange it.”

  “Mister Tick,” Mothball said, nudging him. “There’s some dry clothes in the chest of drawers there. Better be changin’ out of yer soppies, ya should.”

  “Oh, thanks.”

  Tick walked over to the dresser as everyone else chose a cot and started spreading out their blankets. After a full minute of rummaging through the drawers, the only thing Tick found that was close to wearable was an enormous one-piece nightshirt. “This thing looks like a dress,” he said to Mothball.

  “If ya’d rather soak in yer wet undies all night, fine by me,” she replied.

  “Where’s the bathroom?”

  She nodded toward a short metal door. Sighing, Tick went and changed into his ridiculous pajamas.

  ~

  Frazier Gunn had listened to the muffled murmurs of people talking all night. His captor had guests, apparently. Almost insane from the months of isolation, Frazier felt like chewing through the metal and killing every last one of them.

  I’d need stronger teeth, he thought.

  He knew he was going crazy, and he didn’t care. He curled up on the floor like a dog and tried to go back to sleep.

  Frazier longed to hear more clearly through the cold metal walls of his terrible prison. The only word he felt confident he’d understood in all these months was Annika. George had mentioned the name several times, and for some reason it resonated through the metal without being distorted beyond recognition.

  Annika. An unusual name for sure. Frazier had only known one person in his life named Annika. She was one of Mistress Jane’s closest servants and one of several people, including Frazier, who intensely competed for Jane’s favor.

  Was it a coincidence? Did George somehow know Annika? There’d always been rumors of spies in Jane’s camp. Had Frazier discovered a gold nugget of information?

  If only he could escape. If only he could warn Mistress Jane . . .

  ~

  “Hey, looky!” Paul laughed when Tick walked out in his long nightshirt, which hung all the way to the floor. “If it’s not Ebenezer Scrooge himself! Where’s your stocking cap, Grandpa?”

  “Very funny,” Tick said as he walked to an empty cot and started setting up his bed.

  “I think you look right handsome, I do,” Mothball said.

  “Uh-oh, looks like someone’s got a crush,” Paul said.

  Sofia huffed as she settled under her blanket. “Paul, you’re almost as annoying in person as you were on the e-mail. Keep smarting off and you’ll get a Pacini fist in the nose.”

  “Oh, come on, you know you love me.” He leaned back against the wall with his hands clasped behind his head. “Man, this is the life—no chores, no one yelling at me to brush my teeth. I love living in the middle of the ocean.”

  “Ha!” Rutger barked from the doorway. “You’ll be wishing for chores once we send you on your initiation mission.”

  Tick froze, his pillow still in his hands. “Initiation mission?”

  Rutger nodded with a wicked smile. “You didn’t think Master George was kidding about retrieving Mistress Jane’s Barrier Wand, did you?”

  “You can’t possibly mean we have to do it,” Sofia said.

  “You’ll find out tomorrow. Get some sleep.”

  “Oh, that’ll be nice and easy after telling us something like that,” Tick said, straightening his blankets and getting into bed.

  “Dude,” Paul yawned, “where in the world are we anyway?”

  “That’s an easy one,” Mothball said. “Middle of the ocean, we are.”

  “But where? Which ocean?”

  Mothball and Rutger exchanged a wary look. “Go on, you tell ’em,” Mothball finally said.

  “This is the headquarters of the Realitants, you see,” Rutger began, “and there’s a reason we’re here. Master George has to do a lot of winking, a lot of working with the Chi’karda. And this is the one place in the world where it’s the most concentrated, the easiest to penetrate and control. It’s by far the strongest link between all of the Realities.”

  “But where are we?” Sofia insisted.

  Rutger rocked back and forth on his feet. “You’re going to laugh when I tell you.”

  “Blimey, just tell ’em, fat man,” Mothball said, rolling her eyes.

  “Yeah, tell us,” Paul added.

  Rutger folded his hands and rested them on his belly. “We’re smack dab in the middle of the Bermuda Triangle.”

  ~

  Master George let out a long, blissful sigh as he stuck his sore feet into a tub full of salt and warm water. Muffintops jumped onto his lap, purring as she licked his hands.

  “Hello there, little friend,” he said, petting her soft fur. “Quite the day, we’ve had—busy, busy, busy. Never knew it would be so difficult explaining all the many things we know. Those poor little chaps. They’ve no idea what lies ahead of them. None at all.”

  Master George leaned back and closed his eyes, wiggling his toes in the hot water. “Dear Muffintops, can we really do it? Can we really send them to that dreadful place? There’s a mighty good chance everything will fall to pieces, you know. They could be attacked or captured. I don’t know if the Sound Slicers will be enough . . .”

  The cat looked up at Master George, as if it wanted to answer but couldn’t.

  “Ah, yes, I know, I know. We’ve no choice really. Must let them prove themselves, mustn’t we?” He paused, thinking about the three eager children and how different they were from the boy Sato. Of course, Master George had expected nothing different from the troubled son of his former friend.

  Master George smiled. When he really thought about the potential of the four kids he had gathered together, he didn’t know who he felt sorrier for in the coming days, weeks, and years.

  His new batch of Realitants or Mistress Jane.

  ~

  “The Bermuda Triangle?” Paul asked, sounding like he’d just been told they were living inside an alien’s big toe on Mars. “I feel like I’m in a bad made-for-TV movie.”

  Rutger answered. “For some reason this area by far has the biggest concentration of Chi’karda in the world. Something tremendous must’ve happened here a long, long time ago, but we haven’t been able to figure it out. There’s certainly nothing recorded in the history books.”

  “Why’s it such a big deal that there’s more Chi’karda here than anywhere else?” Tick asked, stumbling only a little over the unfamiliar word.

  “Why’s it a big deal?” Rutger repeated, throwing up his arms like Tick had just asked him why he needed oxygen to breathe. “Do you have an unreasonable level of earwax, boy? Didn’t you listen to a word Master George said tonight?”

  “Hey, be nice,” Sofia warned. “Unless you want a punch in the nose, too.”

  Rutger ignored her. “Everything having to do with the Realities revolves around the Chi’karda. Because it’s so powerful here, it’s the easiest place to wink to and from th
e other Realities. It’s also the best place for Master George to monitor Chi’karda levels around the world. That’s how he’s watched all of you from day one so closely.”

  “How?” Paul asked.

  “By using another invention from Chu Industries in the Fourth Reality. It’s called a nanolocator.”

  “Sounds fancy,” Sofia said. “Maybe Pacinis should make them.”

  “I assure, you, Miss Pacini, there’s a big difference between making nanolocators and spaghetti sauce.” Sofia leaned forward like she was ready to get out of bed and attack Rutger, but he held up his hands in reconciliation, then hurried to continue. “A nanolocator is basically a microscopic robot, but it’s so tiny you can’t see it with the naked eye. It crawls into your skin and sends various signals back here to the Command Center.”

  “What kind of signals?” Tick asked, shifting on his cot to get more comfortable. He wasn’t sure he liked the idea of a tiny robot crawling under his skin.

  “Signals that monitor your Chi’karda levels, your global position, your body temperature—all kinds of things. Our fearless leader had to have some way to keep tabs on you, don’t you think? The nanolocators also told us where to send the Gnat Rats and Tingle Wraiths, which were programmed to find you and no one else.”

  “Ah, man, I feel so . . . violated,” Paul said in a deadpan voice, then barked a laugh.

  “How did he get it inside our bodies?” Tick asked.

  “That’s easy,” Mothball said. “The little fella was on the first letter he sent you.”

  “Serious?” Paul asked.

  “When each one of you opened the envelope and pulled out the letter, the nanolocator quickly sought a heat source—your hand—and slipped right between your skin cells.” Rutger grinned. “Brilliant, don’t you think?”

  “Dude, that just seems wrong,” Paul said, shaking his head.

  “Oh, boo hoo,” Rutger replied, rubbing his eyes in a mock cry. “How else were we supposed to know when or if you burned the first letter. Or when you made your Pick?”