Selfie Search

by Cameron Macintosh

  “Good to hear it. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? We’ll sort it out.”

  By now, I’m so tired from all the morning’s action, my eyelids feel like heavy curtains. Oscar’s pretty worn out too. He’s dribbling oil from the side of his mouth. He flops down onto his mat and I plug him into his charger. He powers himself down and comes to a complete stop in a pool of his own oil.

  It’s particularly cold in here today. I huddle in my blanket and push myself up against the walls of our packing case. As tired as I am, I’m still wide awake an hour later. All I can think of is that statue, and the bronze hand wrapped around it. Who knows if Selby and his team saw what we were doing. If they did, I could never live with myself if they dug it up and took all the credit for it - and all the money ...

  Eventually, I drift off to sleep. When I wake, it’s 8:45 at night! I throw the blanket off and tap on Oscar’s power button.

  “Sorry to interrupt your snooze, pup,” I say. “How about joining me for another little excursion?”

  Oscar yawns and points at the battery-charge monitor on his left front leg. It tells me he’s only 40 percent charged. But, I figure that should just be enough to keep him awake for another visit to the hover-skate park. I change into some clean-ish clothes and carry Oscar back to the air vent.

  Oscar clutches onto my back as I hoist us up to ground level. He takes another snooze as I carry him all the way to the Skyburb Down-station.

  We have to wait 14 minutes before our Skyburb pulls in over the docking station. By now, it’s 9:15 p.m. and the Down-station’s completely deserted. We climb into the first available air cell and zoom down toward the ground.

  Even at this hour, the city’s still a whirlwind of light and color. Billboards and zip-coasters light up the city like daylight. As our air cell hisses to a stop at ground level, we tumble out and jump over the exit barricades.

  When we reach the street, Oscar runs ahead of me. He’s still got the destination coordinates saved into his memory banks. He completely forgets about the zip-coaster and runs ahead, but it’s okay — I need the exercise!

  Ten minutes later, we’re back at Griddle Park. I was expecting it to be dark and deserted, but there’s a patch of soft light in the middle of the track. Something doesn’t feel right. There are definitely no hover-skaters to get in the way, but it’s clear that we’re not alone.

  My stomach turns to a bucket of acid as I look across the track and see five grown men hacking at the track surface with shovels - precisely where we uncovered Mayor Squidman’s hand. One of the men is holding a thick torch and shining it down on the statue. We don’t have to get much closer before we recognize the face of the man holding it - our dear friend Captain Selby.

  “This is a disaster,” I whisper to Oscar. “We’ve gotta stop them, somehow! Any ideas?”

  CHAPTER 5

  Night-time Fright-time!

  We take shelter behind a bubble-bus stop on the other side of the street. From there, we watch Selby’s team working, through a crack in the bus stop’s concrete wall. We’re still close enough to hear every word Selby says.

  “Come on, sluggoes!” he grunts. “We need to get this thing uncovered before midnight. The truck’s coming at 12:30. Then, we collect our paycheck and go out for a very expensive midnight feast!”

  “Did you hear that, Oscar?” I whisper.

  Oscar scratches his head as I take another look through the crack. I can now see Mayor Squidman’s hat-covered head, poking up in the middle of the track. I must say, there’s something slightly familiar about her face. And then I realize, she reminds me of someone ... It’s just enough to give me the tiniest spark of a plan.

  “Hey, Oscar,” I say, in my lowest voice. “Do you think it’ll bother Jessie if we wake her at this time of night?”

  A small smile appears around Oscar’s mouth, and he winks at me. I think that’s his way of saying Jessie won’t really appreciate it. But we need her help, no matter how grumpy she’s going to be!

  “Alright Oscar, let’s risk it! Get her on the line.”

  The panel on Oscar’s back slides open again, and the metal arm lifts out the phone goggles. I grab them and slip them over my head.

  I wait as the phone starts ringing through. It takes a very long time before a groggy voice says, “H-hello?”

  “Um, hi, Jessie,” I whisper. “It’s us! I hope we didn’t wake you.”

  Even Oscar seems to think that’s funny. He smirks and rolls his eyes.

  “Well, actually,” says Jessie, “I was having a lovely dream about discovering a 1998 compact disc player, but I’ll forgive you if you’re calling with good news.”

  “Um,” I say, “I’m not sure it’s good news just yet ... but you might be able to help us with that.” s

  “This sounds a bit worrying,” she says. “Where are you?”

  “We’re down on the ground, looking at a certain statue you might be keen to see again.”

  I hear Jessie gasp. “Max, you promised me ...”

  “I know, I know, but I had a hunch someone might try to take credit for our discovery. It turns out I was right.”

  “Selby, huh?”

  “You guessed it ... but with your help, maybe we can stop him.”

  “Okay,” Jessie sighs, “what incredible idea have you got for me this time?”

  “Remember how you told me you did a bit of acting in high school?”

  “Mm-hmm ...”

  “How would you like to restart your acting career, like, right now?”

  “Not really,” she says, “but go on ...”

  “Well, I think you could do a really good impersonation of Mayor Squidman, with the right costume. Just a minute or two of your best acting, and I think we’ll be fine.”

  There’s a long pause before Jessie replies. “Okay, Max, if that’s what it takes. Just don’t ask me to sing!

  “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy — not even Selby!”

  She laughs, but now isn’t the time for jokes. I take another look through the crack and manage to get a better view of Mayor Squidman’s outfit. It looks like a thick, heavy robe.

  “Hey Jessie,” I whisper, “any chance you’ve got a spare mayor’s robe over there?”

  “A spare what?”

  “You know, one of those long black robey things that mayors used to wear.”

  “Um, I don’t have one of those at the moment,” she says, “but let me see what I can dig out of my suitcase.”

  Jessie puts her goggles into camera mode so we can see what she’s looking at. She seems to be staying in quite a nice hotel room. A few seconds later, we’re looking directly into her suitcase.

  Most of Jessie’s clothes are jeans and T-shirts. There’s nothing there that looks like anything Mayor Squidman might have worn.

  “Sorry,” she says, “this doesn’t look very promising.”

  “Um, can I ask a strange question?” I reply.

  “Well, it wouldn’t be the first time!”

  “So, um, what are you wearing at the moment?”

  “Well, you just woke me up, so I’m currently wearing pajamas and a dressing robe.”

  “That’s perfect!” I say, a little too loudly. “Just tidy it up a bit and you’ll be ready for the stage!” “But what about a hat?”

  Once again I press my eye against the wall of the bus shelter and look through the crack. From here I get a nice clear view of Mayor Squidman’s hat. It looks a bit like a pirate’s hat I saw on display at the museum a few months ago.

  I stop to think. “Right,” I whisper, “grab a pillowcase off your bed.”

  “A pillowcase?”

  “Just trust me!”

  Jessie gulps and grabs a pillow from the bed. She slides the case off it.

  “Excellent,” I say. “If you stuff it with a few T-shirts and balance it on your head, I think you might just pass for Mayor Squidman.”

  “Sometimes I think you’re very clever, Max ...”


  she laughs, “but I’m not sure if now is one of those times.

  At that very moment, Jessie completely vanishes from my goggles.

  “Jessie?” I hiss. “Can you hear me, Jessie?”

  I hear a little whimper down beside my feet. It’s Oscar, pointing at his battery read-out with one of his front paws. He’s already down to 19 percent.

  No, Oscar,” I plead, don’t go into power-saving mode yet! We need to keep Jessie on the line.”

  He whimpers again.

  “I know you’re getting low, but you only need to hold out for a few more minutes.”

  Oscar goes back into full-power mode. He whines and shivers, but suddenly the glasses start working again. The next thing I see is Jessie looking in the mirror with the stuffed pillowcase on her head. I glance over at the statue and compare the two. The resemblance is far from perfect, but it might just do.

  “So, what do you want me to say?” asks Jessie.

  “Something like, Go straight out that gate, or face your fate?”

  “Gee, I kind of like that,” she says, and then she starts practicing it, in the lowest, scariest voice she can make.

  “Okay Oscar,” I whisper, “fire up your hologram projector!”

  Oscar looks worried, and I know why - his hologram projector is a real drain on his battery.

  “Don’t stress, pup, we shouldn’t need it for long.” Suddenly, a green, glowing vision of Jessie appears in the air above Oscar’s back. She looks so ghostly, I almost get the shudders myself!

  “Okay Jessie, that’s perfect - just give us a few minutes and we’ll be ready for showtime!”

  Jessie gives me the thumbs-up, and I ask Oscar to put himself into low-power mode. We creep across the road, and when we reach the park, we hide behind one of the jumps in the hover-skate track. Here, we’re only about 10 meters from Selby and his squad. They’re all digging furiously.

  I look down at Oscar’s back again. His display panel says he’s already down to 9 percent battery life. We don’t have a second to lose. I nudge him until he steps out into the darkness, just a few meters behind Selby’s back, and then I give him a nod. He sends a beam of green light into the air, and suddenly Mayor Jessie appears in glowing 3D form.

  For a second she doesn’t say anything, but then I put my hand up in front of my goggles and give her another thumbs-up sign. She removes her goggles and goes into character, repeating her face your fate line, again and again.

  Oscar turns his volume up as loud as it can go, and Jessie’s voice booms across the park.

  Go straight out that gate, or face your fate!

  Suddenly, Selby and his team freeze like startled snowmen. They turn toward Oscar and look up at the creepy figure hovering above him. Even in the dark, I can see the color draining from their faces.

  “Who is that?” yelps Selby.

  Even I didn’t think Selby was that brainless. But one of his assistants says, “It’s her, it’s her!” and points down at the statue, which is now halfuncovered in the ground.

  They all start shaking and clutching at each other, and the next thing I know, they’re sprinting away from us.

  It’s not a second too soon. Suddenly, the ghostly image fades and vanishes. Oscar’s legs fold beneath him and he flops to the ground. All of his panel lights fade to black, too.

  I put my hand in my pocket and grab hold of the old phone. The cord is still plugged into it. I slip the far end of the cord into Oscar’s input jack, and his face suddenly comes to life again. The charge from the phone bumps his battery life up to 5 percent.

  “Quick, Oscar, put me back through to Jessie!” I yell.

  A second later, I’m looking at creepy Jessie again. The pillowcase is now flopping halfway across her face. It makes her look just a little bit less scary.

  “Did it work?” she asks.

  “Did it work? You were incredible! You deserve one of those Oscar statues too!”

  “Well,” she laughs, “it’s good to know I’ve got options if things don’t work out at the museum.”

  “Anyway,” I say, “do you think you could get over here soon? We need to make sure no one gets their hands on this statue before the museum does.”

  “Zaggtown’s an hour away by zip-coaster, but I’ll be there as soon as I can,” she replies.

  CHAPTER 6

  A Grave Situation

  Oscar fades out to zero again and goes to sleep, but this time I’m not so worried. I sit there scraping mud off the mayor’s statue until Jessie shows up, just over an hour later, with three other staff members. I recognize one of them — Professor Wong — the boss of the entire museum. She’s shining a torch onto the statue and looking at it closely.

  “Incredible work, Max,” Jessie whispers in my ear. “The people of Bluggsville will thank you for this ... one day.”

  I know it won’t be tonight. If Professor Wong finds out who I am, and where I live, Jessie will be in all sorts of trouble. For now, I’m just a passing stranger with a sleepy beagle-bot.

  “This looks very promising,” says Professor Wong. “But before we get too excited, I need to see some proof that this really is the missing statue. We’ve seen hundreds of forgeries of famous statues in the last few years.”

  Jessie and I look at each other. She almost chokes on her words as she responds to Professor Wong. “Well ... I do have the old photo that led us here. It’s definitely good evidence, but it’s not exactly proof.”

  She’s right - after all, we can’t even name the person who took the photo.

  “Well then,” says Professor Wong. “For now, we’ll make sure the statue’s protected from any greedy vultures. But ... until you can give me some absolute proof that this really is Mayor Squidman, there’s not much more we can do with it.”

  “Don’t worry, Professor,” says Jessie. “We’ll prove it’s the real thing, one way or another.”

  “You’ll need to work quickly. We can only keep the statue protected for two days at most. The hover-skaters aren’t going to be happy about it!”

  Professor Wong asks her assistants to build a barrier around the half-visible statue. She stays there to oversee the construction while Jessie and I walk back to the docking station. As we walk, we brainstorm ideas to prove the statue really is the statue. Neither of us can think of anything that will be good enough for Professor Wong.

  When we arrive back at the storeroom, we sag into chairs in Jessie’s workshop. By now, it’s 2 o’clock in the morning. We’re all exhausted.

  “So, what do we do now?” I ask. Jessie’s face is blank. Mine probably is too, but now that Oscar’s plugged into a charger, he looks a lot more alive than both of us. His brain seems to be working a lot better too. He switches his projector on and grabs the phone out of my pocket. Then, he plugs it into one of his input docks, and a gallery of the owner’s photos flashes into the air above him.

  “Good thinking, Oscar,” says Jessie. “Let’s take a closer look at his photos. Maybe we’ve missed something.”

  Oscar flashes up photo after photo, as big as he can make them before they go blurry. Those 21st century phones were hopeless - their photos go blurry if you make them any bigger than a robo-rat! What a shame they didn’t invent giga-pixel cameras a few years sooner ...

  Jessie and I check each photo for details. We’re still shocked by how much this guy seemed to like his own face! There’s one picture of him shoveling a hotdog into his mouth. In the next picture, he’s cuddling a baby pig!

  Oscar flashes up photo after photo until we both stop and stare at a picture of the same mystery man, blowing out candles on a birthday cake.

  “Stop right there!” yells Jessie. “This could be the one!”

  We count the candles. There are twenty-one of them. Then, we look at the time and date information at the bottom of the photo - it was taken at 7:59 p.m. on November 12, 2017.

  “That’s very useful information,” I say, and I do some math in my head. “It means he must have
been born on the November 12, 1996.”

  We look even closer and notice some writing on the cake. It’s hard to read, but we can just make out what it says:

  Happy 21st, Will

  “This just keeps getting better!” yells Jessie.

  “So,” I say. “We know his name is Will - probably William - and we know when he was born. Let’s do a scan through the birth records on the Splinternet and see what else we can learn about him.”