Nikki Tesla and the Fellowship of the Bling

by Jess Keating

  “I know,” I mumbled to Pickles as she nestled into my shoulder on the cot we were sharing in the ship’s barracks. “I missed you, too.” She used the back of my head as a scratching post but kept the pressure playful and gentle. Ever since I’d nearly lost her, she had been as sappy as a maple tree in March.

  “But it was worth it,” I continued sarcastically. I groaned as I stood up, reaching for the small transparent box. “Look what we found.”

  Pickles sniffed at the box, enchanted by the sparkling ring inside, while I inspected the plastic, lifting and turning it to examine it from all angles. The ring itself was beautiful, sure. Silver, with wide clear gemstones of some kind set deep within its band. Tiny flakes of silver overlapped the entire circle, giving it a distinct, scale-like appearance. It almost looked like it would start moving on its own at any second. Iridescent and glittering, it seemed to capture and reflect every bit of light that hit it.

  But we weren’t here to save the world from something beautiful. Martha had been told that this ring was dangerous. Some of the most treacherous tech known to man.

  We’d almost died for this thing.

  I growled and set the box down again. The waves surrounding our ship sounded like a giant heaving deep inhales and exhales in the water. Slowly, my own breathing began to mimic the sound. Dropping my chin to my chest, I stretched the back of my neck and tried to think clearly.

  It obviously wasn’t just a ring.

  Martha would never be wrong about something like this. It was pretty clever to hide amazing tech in such a small, simple object. But it wasn’t enough to know that it dangerous. I wanted to know how. Chewing my lip, I checked over my shoulder.

  Bert and Mo were helping Grace with dinner prep. Charlie was hiding out from the sun under a makeshift umbrella on deck while Leo dug through online databases for any information about the ring and whoever was hoping to sell it. Mary was up next in the shower. Everyone was occupied.

  Have you ever done something you knew was a bad idea? But you couldn’t stop yourself because you know you’d always wonder what would have happened?

  Of course you have, and that’s why you understand why I had to open that box.

  The ring was lighter than I expected. In the box, it looked like some sort of metal alloy. But holding it in my hand? It was clear that the material was different than anything I’d ever seen before. It was almost pliable, weighing no more than a few grams, and eerily warm to the touch—not the way any metal should feel. It was also larger than I thought, like it was meant to fit a man’s finger.

  I brought the ring to my nose and gave it a quick sniff. Traces of cold rain and the smell of damp earth met my nostrils. Definitely a material I wasn’t familiar with.

  That’s when the buzzing started. No, buzzing isn’t the right word.

  Humming.

  The ring got warmer in my hand. It wasn’t flashing or beeping like a watch or alarm clock. It was expanding and contracting ever so slightly, almost like it was breathing.

  Like it was waking up.

  I’ll admit it right here. Let the record show that I, Nikola Tesla, know that what I did next was totally, completely, and unforgivably wrong. I have no excuse and deserve every ounce of trouble thrown my way for the rest of my life. I’m the one to blame for every terrible thing that was to come.

  But sometimes, the only way to get real answers is to take a risk. To stay curious no matter how much people tell you otherwise.

  Before I could talk myself out of it, I slipped the ring onto my finger.

  What happened next was nothing I could have ever expected.

  That is, nothing happened.

  I sat there, with the too-big ring on my pointer finger. It was still warm to the touch, and a light, eerie hum kept emanating from it. But diddly-squat was happening. No fireworks. No blinking lights. No Iron Man moment.

  Nada.

  I frowned. I mean, I don’t know what I was hoping for, but for something known for being the “most dangerous technology in the world,” I thought I’d get a slightly bigger display than just a faint hum. Pickles didn’t seem to care. She stretched her legs and scurried up to me. I could tell by the way she was eagerly sniffing my hands that she was hungry.

  “Hey, not so fast, you little maniac.” I gently shoved her away so I could squirm over on the side of my butt to reach inside my pocket. If you have a ferret, it’s crucial to pack snacks in your pockets to avoid ferret tantrums. Pulling out a shelled peanut, I set it on the ground and gave it a little flick with my finger.

  But Pickles barely blinked at the treat. Instead, she crouched down on her belly and stuck her rear in the air. She stared at me, like a dog waiting for a ball to be thrown.

  “Earth to Pickles.” I poked her gently. “You know you’re hungry, so go get it.” I reached over and grabbed the peanut again, this time placing it in my palm for her.

  She snuffled the peanut, then began nipping at my hand. She wasn’t biting hard—just enough to pinch, a playful kind of biting she used to do as a kit. “What is up with you, weirdo?” I grabbed her in one hand and held her to my face, peering inquisitively into her eyes.

  Unfortunately, she was getting more annoyed by the second, twisting and scratching at my hand. Her tiny claws left red marks on my wrist, and her squeaking got so frantic, I had to set her down.

  The minute her toes touched the floor, she leaped at me again, this time making a beeline for my hand.

  “Hey!” I shouted. “What is wrong with you?!” I lifted my arm out of the way just in time to avoid her teeth. I think you know me enough by now to realize that I would never hurt Pickles. Not even a tiny shove or nudge that could harm her. So my heart started pounding against my throat when she cowered in front of me.

  Well, she wasn’t cowering from me exactly. She was fixated on my hand.

  I swallowed hard and tested out the movement, lifting my hand to the left. She scampered on her feet and shifted left, keeping herself directly underneath my hand.

  “Hoo-kay,” I muttered. “So you don’t like this thing. It’s okay, bud.”

  I moved my hand slowly over her head, this time to the right. Her neck swiveled to follow, and her tiny feet shifted beneath her. No matter what I did, she angled herself to face the ring. Maybe along with the humming, it was emitting a frequency that scared certain animals? Perhaps she heard something that I couldn’t, like a dog whistle.

  “It’s all right, girl,” I said. I used my right hand to scoop her up and give her a cuddle. “I promise, whatever this thing is”—I held my other hand up for her inspection—“I don’t know how to use it. In my hands, it’s a glorified fashion statement.”

  Seeing me relaxed seemed to help her calm down. She hopped out of my hand and curled herself around my neck, her usual favorite position.

  “You live such a charmed life,” I said, giving her a scratch and letting her sniff the ring from a distance. “Free food, travel, and all the back scratches you can ask for. Must be nice. I wish I had as little to worry about as you do.”

  That’s when things started getting a little weird.

  I should have taken the ring off. You know how you should never trust someone your dog can’t stand? You should never wear a weapon, or fashion accessory, that your ferret doesn’t like.

  I know this now.

  The ring began to shift on my finger, almost like it was being stretched and contorted from the inside, nestling flatter and flatter against my skin. My breath hitched as I stretched my arm out in front of me, putting as much space between myself and the ring as I possibly could. That was my cue to get the darned thing off. But it was getting smaller—contracting and bulging until it was tight against my skin.

  I clawed at it with my right hand, desperate to get the freaky, writhing thing away from me.

  But the ring was stuck tight to my finger, like it had been adhered with superglue. My whole arm began to ripple down to my elbow, making my stomach turn. Had the tech gotten under
my skin? Had it infected me?

  My entire body trembled, and my chest tightened. Pins and needles started in my toes and fingertips, and grew stronger until the pain was so extreme, my vision blurred red.

  My skin—no, my entire body—was morphing and contracting.

  “Guyyys!!” I wheezed. I needed help, and fast. “Get down here!” The words came out of me in harsh spasms, choked off by the lack of oxygen in my lungs. I couldn’t get a good breath in. A boa constrictor of panic wrapped around me. I didn’t have enough air to call out again.

  The ring had grown to five times its size now, stretched flat along the entire length of my finger. Tendrils of gray metal began to sprout from its sides, weaving and crossing down my skin like a living spiderweb. Pickles gnawed at the material with all her strength, yanking and twisting, but it was no use.

  She knew I was in trouble, too.

  “Please—” I tried to stumble to the stairs to reach the others but crashed against the wall of the ship as I began to black out. “Pickles!” My breath was ragged. “Get them. Go get them. Find Mary.” I hissed her name out like a command, desperate for my ferret to understand. But no, that wouldn’t work. Mary was in the shower.

  “F-find Leo!” I stammered.

  Pickles, my noblest of tiny steeds, finally listened to me. She shot up the stairs to the ship’s deck.

  Seconds later, I fell to the ship’s floor and knocked my hip against the hardwood. My last thought was of Pickles and her long, furry tail twisting like a kite behind her as she raced to find the others. Then everything went black.

  So cliché, right? But trying on some sort of freaky ring that takes over your entire arm is a pretty scary thing. Blackouts are totally normal in that situation.

  When I came to, the usual world had burned away and my vision was distorted, like a fun house mirror. I jerked my up head from the floor.

  The chair in the barracks was at least ten times my height. In fact, the entire room seemed to have shifted on its axis. Everything was huge. The sleeping bunks. The bag of apples that sat by my backpack. Each apple was bigger than my head.

  Oh my God, did I shrink down like Alice did in Wonderland?

  I blinked several times and forced myself to look down at my feet. I needed to stabilize myself somehow.

  “What. The—”

  Two furry paws stared back at me.

  Okay. Not Alice.

  There was obviously something wrong here. Had the ring injected me with a hallucinogen? Maybe the ring incapacitated enemies by messing with their perception. I would be pretty easy to subdue right now. But getting a ring on someone else’s finger could be difficult …

  I needed more data to solve this equation.

  “Tesla,” I instructed myself. My voice sounded odd, a little higher than normal and strained. I had to keep it together. “Move your left hand.”

  I obeyed myself, then watched in horror as the left paw in front of me started to move, the tiny, furry toes stretching and wiggling. My stomach tightened and my heart continued to race, betraying my fears.

  “Now your right hand.” I squeezed my eyes shut, then forced them open again. My left hand, or should I say paw, wiggled and shook.

  “Am I a stinking ferret?!” I gasped. I scurried over to look at my reflection in the chair’s metal legs and confirmed my hypothesis. I was covered in fur like Pickles. And my coat was almost identical to hers: chocolate brown, misty gray, and white. I had two hind legs, with five toes and sharp claws on each.

  “Oh my God, is that … ?” I wriggled my rear end and nearly passed out again.

  A fluffy tail, tapering off into a dainty white tip, stuck out from my behind.

  “Pickles!”

  Leo’s voice made my knees buckle with relief.

  Yes! Leo could help!

  I bounced up and down on my paws, readying myself to explain everything, and fast. The ring was messing with my head, but Leo hadn’t touched it at all. He would see me as I really was, not as the ferret I was imagining.

  He thumped down the stairs two at a time. His face was red from the sun, and his arms had already begun to tan from our time in the islands. Pickles weaved around his feet and bounded toward me, practically bowling me over. She wasn’t attacking me or being rough: I could tell from her frantic whines that she still recognized me. She was desperate for Leo to help me and wanted to draw his attention my way as fast as possible.

  “Nikki!” Leo shouted. “Where are you? Pickles is going absolutely bonkers. Are you all right?”

  I rolled out from under Pickles and rushed over to Leo.

  “Wait.” He pivoted in place, pointing at me. “Pickles … ?”

  The real Pickles scurried over to us, and parked herself beside me.

  And that moment—when Leo’s mouth dropped open in a circle and his head tipped in confusion—that’s when I knew how wrong I’d been.

  “Why are there two of you?” he asked.

  Shoot.

  The ring hadn’t made me hallucinate that I was a ferret. It had actually turned me into a ferret!

  Two ferrets stared back at Leo.

  Two Pickles.

  One huge mystery.

  Imagining yourself as a ferret is one thing, but … actually being one? That’s enough to shock the speech out of you. How was I expected to string words together when I currently had a tail?

  Leo frowned, kneeling down to timidly reach out to Pickles. Being a fellow genius, I knew exactly what thoughts swam through his head. He was thinking about the possibility that Pickles had been cloned.

  It could happen, sure, with the right scientific procedures. But since Leo is no dummy, he would know that cloning takes time, and a whole laboratory of technology that we certainly didn’t have on a ship in the Pacific Ocean. He also knew that I’d never clone Pickles. Why on earth would I want another crazy ferret running around me in the lab while I worked? One was difficult enough.

  With cloning off the table, Leo would wonder if the ship was home to another ferret, who was coincidentally identical to Pickles. But given the fauna of the Galápagos, the odds of this were beyond improbable. Which would bring him to his final hypothesis: The ferret in front of him had gotten there by more mysterious means. I saw all of these options play out on his face, his expression full of confusion, fear, and intrigue.

  He knelt down and spoke very slowly. “All right, twin Pickles. What is going on here?” He bit his lip and looked back and forth between me and the real Pickles, his face very pale all of a sudden.

  Unfortunately for him, that’s exactly when I got my voice back.

  I stepped onto his shoe and glared at him. “Leo, it’s me,” I said.

  Well, that did it.

  Leo is a worldly kid and fluent in about thirty languages, but let me tell you, he was not prepared for a talking ferret.

  He leaped back from me, grappling with the edge of the table to keep his balance. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. “Nikki?!” he hissed. Then he started searching the room, poking into cabinets, suitcases, and boxes.

  I couldn’t blame him. What I was asking his brilliant mind to believe wasn’t possible.

  Logically. Rationally. Scientifically.

  There was no way that the voice he’d just heard—my voice—belonged to the ferret standing at his feet.

  And yet.

  I was officially a talking ferret.

  “Is this a joke?!” His voice cracked in confusion. “Look, I know you’re ticked off at us for making you shower last. Where are you?” He kept a wide berth between us, but Pickles nipped at his shoelaces in a rebellious attempt to keep him wrangled in the room with me.

  I stepped forward. My brain hadn’t quite figured out how to use four legs yet, so it was more of a stumble. My little ferret voice was sort of squeaky but still sounded remarkably like me (with a side of panic thrown in for good measure).

  Leo blinked. “Ferrets can’t imitate human speech. Am I cracking up? Maybe I’m getting that
seasickness that makes sailors see mirages and mermaids and talking ferrets?” He swiped at his forehead, leaving his hair twisted in messy clumps.

  “When was that last time I drank something?” he continued. “Am I dehydrated? Maybe I’ve got scurvy. No, I couldn’t get scurvy after only a few days of travel.” He was full-on babbling to himself now, ignoring me completely.

  I tried to be patient with him, but the hysteria was wearing pretty thin. He wasn’t the one who had turned into a ferret. So the least he could do was keep it together and help me.

  “Leo!” I shouted. “Get ahold of yourself! It’s me! I promise. I tried on the ring, and somehow … it changed me into this!”

  He watched me, stunned. His chest was rising and falling fast. But he was listening. At least, I thought he was.

  “Blink twice if you’re with me here, Leo!” I instructed.

  He blinked once, then shook his head as if to clear it before blinking again.

  “I know ferrets can’t imitate human speech,” I continued in the slow voice I would use on a toddler. “But here I am, talking to you, aren’t I? This doesn’t make sense. But, Leo”—I hopped up onto his chest and stared him down—“you need to help me. You need to go upstairs. Tell the others what happened. We need everyone on this one, okay? Get Grace. Get all of them.” I hoped I was coming across as stern and no-nonsense, but the adorable ferret face was probably throwing off my game. Clenching my jaw, I begged him. “We need to fix this. Now.”

  Leo forced his mouth shut and cleared his throat. “Right,” he said. “I’ll get the others. You’re going to be fine, Tesla.” He tried to smile at me, but the pitiful crack in his voice didn’t inspire a lot of confidence.

  “Thank you,” I said, planting my rear and letting my long tail wrap around my feet.

  “Uhh …” he started. A sheepish look crossed his face and his cheeks went pink. “Nikki? You’re gonna need to get off me, first.”