Selfie Search

by Cameron Macintosh

  I look down and see Oscar shaking his head at me, like I’ve just made a really dumb suggestion. He’s right - our mysterious friend Will was born well before the old Internet melted down in the Great Solar Flare of2037. There won’t be any birth record online. Oscar checks the death records and finds nothing there either — perhaps he died before 2037, too. It’s almost like he never existed, except for the digital remains of his life in the phone.

  “Don’t worry,” says Jessie calmly. “There are still plenty of old paper records on file. We’ll just have to visit the government office and spend a few hours going through them.”

  “If they let us,” I say. “I don’t have a PaperHandling License. And it could take weeks - we don’t even know his surname.”

  “I know,” replies Jessie. “I don’t have a license either, but maybe Professor Wong could come with me. What other options do we have?”

  “How about a little trip down to the Bluggsville West Cemetery? We might be able to find a tombstone with his first name and birthdate on it.”

  Jessie groans. ‘That’ll take even longer than going through the paper records. Are you sure you want to do that?’

  “I’m not sure at all, but it’ll definitely be more fun than paper files.”

  “It’s up to you,” she says, “but you’ll have to go down by yourself, I’m afraid. I’ve just got too much to do here tomorrow.”

  “That’s alright,” I wink. “Oscar will save me from any more ghosts. I think I’ve seen enough of them tonight already!”

  At 7:15 a.m., after just a few hours of sleep, Oscar and I take an air cell down to ground level. We walk the full twenty minutes it takes to get to Bluggsville West Cemetery. A shiver runs up my spine as we pass through the old metal gates and into a concrete forest of towering tombstones. I know we’re looking for a needle in a haystack, but at least the graves are arranged by century, and also by decade.

  Our friend Will was born in 1996, and we know he lived until at least 2017, so we head straight for the 21st century section and have a look around.

  The graves from the 21st century are the most interesting of all. Back then, everyone was crazy about photos and videos, and a lot of people included a little video clip on their tombstone, so everyone could get to know a little bit about their life.

  We start at the west section and walk east, checking the graves on either side of us for the name William, or a birthdate of November 17. As we walk, photos light up on the tombstones, and little video screens play clips of birthday parties and weddings. Someone even has a clip of a custard pie fight!

  We’ve just entered the 2030s section when Oscar suddenly stops dead in his tracks. He’s a few meters ahead of me, staring at a bright red pyramid-shaped tombstone. His tail vibrates in excitement as he lifts his front paw off the ground and waves at me to catch up with him.

  I run along, and turn to see a big red pyramid with a round photograph at the top. It’s a man who looks about 50, with gray hair and a big smile. There’s no bun at the top of his head, but he still looks an awful lot like our old friend Will.

  I look down at the inscription and see the name William Arnold Jaxson. It says he was born on November 17, 1996, and died on April 7, 2036. He didn’t live to be an old man, but I’m so happy we’ve found him I grab Oscar’s paws and do a little dance in front of the tombstone. The cemetery’s gardener sees what we’re doing and shakes his head at us, so I figure we’d better tone ourselves down. I stand still and ask Oscar to take a photo of Will’s tombstone. He prints out a copy for me and I slide it into my pocket.

  “Now,” I say, “do a quick Splinternet search and see if you can find any Jaxsons still living in Bluggsville.”

  Oscar sets his search mode into action and projects the results into the air above him. There only seems to be one Jaxson left in the entire city. Her name is Helen, and she lives in Konnichi Street, Bluggsville South-West. According to the map that appears beside her details, she only lives a few streets from where we are right now.

  “Fantastic, Oscar!” I yell. “Let’s go and meet this mysterious Helen.”

  We wave William goodbye, and make our way back to the gateway. As we go, a video screen pops out from William’s tombstone. Grey-haired William smiles and waves into the camera. Then, he puts his thumb in his mouth and blows a raspberry at us.

  It’s a shame we never met. I think we could’ve been good friends!

  CHAPTER 7

  Helpful Helen ...

  Konnichi Street is long, but incredibly narrow. On both sides, it’s crammed with high-rise apartment blocks. Helen lives at 546/76. Her apartment block is built to look like a huge metal banana. It even leans over to one side and seems to be peeling at the top.

  Judging by Helen’s address, it looks like she lives on the 54 th floor. When we reach the main doorway, we press on the buzzer for apartment 546 and wait for a response. It seems to take hours, but finally, a face appears on the little video screen beside her number button. It’s the face of a very old looking woman.

  “Can I help you?” she says.

  “Well,” I reply, “this might seem a bit strange, but we’re wondering if the name William Arnold Jaxson means anything to you.”

  Helen’s eyebrows pull together and she looks at me with a frown. “And just who might be wanting to know?”

  “Well, my name’s Max, and this is my robotic super-assistant, Oscar.”

  “And why are you so interested in William Arnold Jaxson?”

  “So, you do know who he was?”

  “This is my home and I will ask the questions, young man.”

  Gosh, I wasn’t expecting Helen to be so aggressive!

  “I ask you again - how do you know who he was?”

  “Well, it’s a long story, but we just visited his grave, and we seem to have come across his old telephone.”

  “A 400-year-old telephone? What absolute nonsense.”

  “Well, it just so happens that I’m carrying that telephone in my pocket at this very moment.”

  “I think I’ve heard enough.”

  “Did you hear that, Oscar? She’s heard enough - she believes us!”

  I hold my left hand down to Oscar-level, but he doesn’t high-five it. I look back up at the video screen. It’s gone blank.

  “Ms Jaxson? Can you hear me?”

  I’m giving her button another push when the glass doors at the front of the building suddenly slide open. A colossal security guard storms toward us.

  “I’ll ask you nicely, just once,” he says. “Get off this property, worm features.”

  He’s obviously never heard that no one calls Max Booth worm features and gets away with it!

  “Hey, Oscar,” I yell. “Over there - a fat, juicy robo-rat!”

  Oscar looks around, his eyes darting in all directions.

  “Just in there - under the reception desk!”

  For a moment, I don’t think Oscar believes me, but the temptation is too strong. He darts toward the doorway and between the guard’s legs. The guard dives over the top of him, but he’s much too slow. Oscar zips through the doorway and the automatic doors close behind him. It’s lucky they’re made of glass - at least I can see him as he darts left and right in the foyer, desperately trying to catch sight of the non-existent robo-rat.

  At least one of us has made it into the building. The guard looks fairly determined to stop that number going any higher. He steps back toward the doorway and stands in front of it with his arms on his hips. There’s no way I can get past him. Instead, I give him a friendly wave and walk around to the side of the building. I wait there a few minutes, gathering my thoughts.

  Without Oscar, I’m extremely short on technotricks, but I do have a 400-year-old phone in my pocket. It sets my mind racing.

  When we pressed Helen’s buzzer, I noticed an Emergency access sign, just above the door. I’m sure there was a phone number below it. I peep around the corner and read the number again:

  0005-4754
-389875

  If I can use it to cause a little distraction at the reception desk ... I might just be able to get inside.

  There’s no time to waste - who knows what Oscar’s doing in there!

  I take the phone out of my pocket and wonder if, just maybe, I can use it to make an old-fashioned phone call. The problem is, it doesn’t want to connect to the Bluggsville phone network. I’m not surprised - it is 400 years out-of-date, after all. Still, I’ve got a few bits and pieces in my pocket that might bring it into the 25th century ... if I can just find a way to make the cord work as some kind of antenna.

  I plug the cord back into the phone and throw the other end up until it catches on one of the building’s communications cables. Then, I pull on the phone until the cord stretches tight. The cable doesn’t carry electricity, but suddenly, I hear a strange buzz, and feel a fuzzy vibration in my hand. I look down at the phone’s display. There’s now a little symbol at the top that wasn’t there before - it looks like a small triangle, made up of five lines.

  I tap the phone receiver button on the screen and a keypad appears. I type in the Emergency access number and press the phone to my ear. It doesn’t make a sound.

  I’m about to throw the phone on the ground and jump on it 500 times when I hear a voice. “Hello?”

  I spin around - I could’ve sworn it came from behind me. But then I hear it again, and realize it’s coming from the ancient device in my hand. I press it to my ear and hear a third “Hello

  “Um, hello!” I say, and then I pause to do some very quick thinking. “Yes, um, hi! There’s been a terrible emergency at 76 Konnichi Street.”

  “What kind of emergency?” asks the voice.

  “Oh, a very severe one! The guard seems to have fallen asleep at the desk. I can’t get into my apartment!”

  “That’s dreadful. We’ll send someone over immediately.”

  Then, I bump the call button and accidentally hang up. I try to re-enter the number, but the next thing I know, I’m talking to Mildred from Wimble’s Dried Shrimp Supplies. She’s desperate to sell me a year’s supply of powdered brine shrimp. When I finally manage to convince her that I don’t like seafood, I hang up and look around the corner again. There’s already a security hover-cart at the front of the building.

  The guard runs out from reception and talks to his visitor through the hover-cart window. They both look confused, and then they start yelling at each other.

  It’s my only chance - before the first guard turns around again, I run on tiptoes to the doorway and sprint at top pace into the reception area. At first, there’s no sign of Oscar, but I need to get out of sight before any more company arrives. I run to the lift and hit the button for the 54th floor. The lift door doesn’t want to open. I look up at the floor display panel and see that it’s still up at floor 70 ...

  I hit the button another five times, but the lift creeps down with painful slowness. By the time it’s reached the 30th floor, I can see the guard walking back toward the doorway with a very unhappy look on his face. As he enters the building, I look up to the display again - still ten floors to go! All I can do is hide behind a big potted plant near the lift door and hope the guard doesn’t look this way.

  A few seconds later there’s a ding as the lift door opens. I jump out from behind the potted plant and run toward it, as an angry voice yells, “Hey!”

  I tumble into the lift and hit the “54” button. Just as the guard’s face appears in the doorway, the doors slide shut and the lift shoots upward.

  I take a deep breath, and feel a little bit better until I feel a bump on the back of my knee. I jump so high I nearly crunch into the roof. When I land, I turn around and see Oscar looking up at me from the floor. He’s grinning a “that’s what you get for lying about robo-rats”grin, and wagging his tail.

  “Oscar! I’m sorry, but hey - we’re in, aren’t we?!”

  Oscar nods and nuzzles my knee as the lift slows down and halts at the 54th floor. The door opens and we follow the signs to the big blue door of number 546.

  I take a deep breath and press the buzzer. Almost immediately, the door swings open and we find ourselves face-to-face with Helen.

  “You!?” she cries. And then she starts yelling, “Security! Security!”

  “No, please, just hear me out,” I beg.

  “You shadies think I’m a walking money tree,” she howls. “Well, you won’t be getting any of my ...”

  “We don’t want your money!” I yell. “And don’t call me a shadie!”

  There’s nothing I hate more than being called a shadie. It’s not my fault I can’t afford to live on the ground, or buy nice clothes. And it’s definitely not my fault the Skyburbs cast shadows over the rest of the city!

  Before I say something I might regret, I take the phone out of my pocket and open it to the first photo of William I can find. At the same time, Oscar prints another photo of William’s tombstone and lifts it up as high as he can.

  Suddenly, Helen falls silent. Her eyes triple in size as she takes in the photos. Then, she stares at the phone, and a small tear drips down her cheek.

  “I’m so sorry,” she says. “William was my great, great, great, great, great, great-grandfather. But, why is he of so much interest to you?”

  “Well, I think this phone might have belonged to him.”

  “Please, come inside.”

  We follow Helen into her apartment. It’s very cozy - full of old paintings and furniture, and a collection of antique tennis rackets from the 2250s.

  I tell her how Jessie came across the phone in the museum’s storeroom. I also tell her about the statue, and how we urgently need to confirm it’s the real thing.

  “This is incredible,” she says. “Nicole Squidman was William’s favorite actress. He met her once, with a cauliflower in his hand. She signed it for him, but sadly, my great, great, great, great, great, great-grandmother got hungry and ate it.”

  “That’s a tragedy,” I say. “Can you tell us anything else about William’s life?”

  “Just a little,” says Helen. “According to my great, great, great, great-grandmother, he spent so much time taking photos of himself, he never finished high school. But he did set up a successful photography business, helping people look better in photos from their own phones.”

  When Helen finishes her story, I tell her that her great, great, great, great, great, great-grandfather and his phone have done an incredible service to the people of Bluggsville. He’s helped us rediscover a treasure that’s been missing for hundreds of years.

  Helen looks extremely proud. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help you,” she says. “I’ve always wanted to dig up buried treasure!”

  CHAPTER 8

  Shiny Squidman

  The next Monday, I’m down at Griddle Park with Oscar, Jessie and a bunch of her coworkers from the museum. We’re all here to celebrate the return of Mayor Squidman’s statue to the people of Bluggsville.

  Helen’s here as the guest of honor. Professor Wong’s here too, holding a pair of scissors to cut the ribbon in front of the statue.

  There’s now a viewing platform all the way around the statue. It was much too heavy to move, so they left it exactly where it was. According to Jessie, the $7 million reward was just enough to build the platform ...

  I’m a little disappointed that none of those dollars ended up in our pockets, but at least Selby didn’t get his hands on them either!

  Just before she cuts the ribbon, Professor Wong stops and hands the scissors to Helen. Helen looks a bit embarrassed, but she cuts the ribbon like a true professional. Then, she takes a phone out of her pocket and photographs herself smiling in front of the statue. She gives me a wink as everyone claps and cheers. Even the hover-skaters seem to enjoy the show - but maybe they’re just glad to be getting their park back again!

  Mayor Squidman is shining and smiling. It’s hard to believe she’s been standing in the same spot for nearly 400 years. She does
n’t even look tired!

  When the crowd finally breaks up, Jessie comes over to Oscar and me, and rubs us both on the head. “I’m really sorry you guys didn’t get the credit for this,” she says sadly. “I’ll make sure you get it one day.”

  “That’s okay,” I reply. “And I’ll make sure you never have to wear a pillowcase on your head again - unless you liked it!”

  “That’s a relief,” she says. “There’s only space for one Oscar in my storeroom!”