Dr. Zimm gestured toward it. “We’re late for an urgent appointment. We’ve already summoned a new car. It’s a Lyft this time, thank goodness. Not an Uber. Thank you again, officers.”
They hurried into the new Corp vehicle as quickly as they could. The police seemed to be buying the idea that Edward, trapped behind the wheel of his getaway vehicle, was just a rogue Uber driver.
“Drive!” Dr. Zimm barked the instant he and Wilhelm landed in the back seat. “Be quick about it! But don’t do anything rash to draw the police officers’ attention.”
The man behind the wheel obeyed. Dr. Zimm waved politely as the SUV cruised past the dented sedan where the officers were deflating the airbag, helping the dazed Edward out of the driver’s seat.
“You kind of threw Edward under the bus back there, Doc,” said Wilhelm as they pulled away.
“So?” said Dr. Zimm. “Lose one asset to save two. It’s standard Corp procedure. Do you have some problem with that, Wilhelm?”
“Nope,” said Wilhelm. “Just wish I’d thought of that whole Uber thing. That was smart, Dr. Zimm. Very smart.”
“Sir?” said the new driver, touching his earpiece.
“Yes?” said Dr. Zimm.
“Phone call coming in from HQ. They say it’s important.”
“Put it on speaker.”
“Yes, sir.” The driver jabbed a screen on his dashboard console.
Dr. Zimm leaned forward. “This is Dr. Zacchaeus Zimm. How may I be of assistance?”
“This is command and control at the Cave,” said a clipped and efficient female voice.
The Cave was what those who worked for the Corp called their secret mountain hideaway.
“Go on,” said Dr. Zimm.
“Please proceed to the Sarnoff Princeton Heliport. A chopper is waiting to ferry you and your team back here.”
“But Max Einstein is within my reach. She is only five minutes ahead of us. Given what I know about her psychological profile, I’m certain she is heading back to West Virginia to rejoin her CMI team. The girl has guilt issues and what I call delusions of goodness. Her protectors, Charl and Isabl, aren’t currently with her. Only Lenard, the automaton. With your assistance, tracking satellite feeds covering all major roadways leading back to—”
“There is no need for that, Dr. Zimm,” said the woman from Corp headquarters. “We have acquired a new CMI asset. We don’t need to chase down Max Einstein on the open road. This new asset will deliver her to us.”
“Is that so?” said Dr. Zimm, rubbing a thoughtful hand across his bald head. “And how, exactly, did we acquire this asset? ”
“The old-fashioned way,” said the woman with just the hint of a smirk in her voice. “They called us.”
58
Max and Leo were both surprised when no sleek sedans or hulking SUVs shadowed them on the long drive back to West Virginia.
“Any drones overhead, Leo?” Max asked.
“None that my rudimentary radar has picked up.”
“Huh,” said Max. “Maybe Dr. Zimm decided to call it quits.”
Leo rotated his head sideways to give her a look. (As a robotic driver, he really didn’t need to keep his eyes on the road because his processors were linked to the vehicle’s external sensors and satellite navigation system.)
“Dr. Zimm does not give up,” Leo said calmly. And then, of course, he giggled.
“What do you mean?” asked Max.
“It is not in his nature to surrender. Notice how, even when replaced by Professor Von Hinkle, he remained, as you say, in the game?”
“True. So, why’d he just let us leave Princeton? Why isn’t the Corp using its access to spy satellites and surveillance drones to track us down? Come on—we’re driving down an interstate highway…”
“My internal navigation system informs me it is the speediest route, even though there are tolls involved.”
“That’s not my point. Why did Dr. Zimm just let us go if he never gives up?”
“Because,” said Leo, “I extrapolate, with ninety percent certitude, that he expects that we are doing what we are, indeed, doing. Returning to the motel outside Shepherdstown. Dr. Zimm wants us back in West Virginia.”
“Your old home,” Max muttered.
“Precisely. Because it is also home to the Corp.”
Max was torn. Part of her wanted to pull the CMI team out of West Virginia, immediately. Part of her wanted to finish the hunger project. After all, what good was calling yourselves the Change Makers Institute if you were too terrified of the big bad Corp to make any changes in the world?
“Leo, can you communicate with Charl and Isabl?”
“Yes, via Klaus. I have him on what he called ‘speed dial.’”
“All right. Tell Klaus to alert Charl and Isabl to beef up security for the team. The Corp, clearly, knows where we are and what we’re doing. We should be better prepared for another attack like the one at the Carleigh farm.”
“Oh, I agree,” said Leo. “I might suggest that Charl and Isabl bring on more troops as the Corp has many assets in the area.”
“And we don’t,” said Max, her mind fast-forwarding the way it did when she played chess. She needed to plot out all her possible moves and all her opponent’s potential counter-moves. The best chess masters can see fifteen moves ahead, maybe twenty.
Max could calculate twenty-five.
“Tell Klaus that he and I need to chat over text. Set up a good time.”
Max, who had just spent way too much time obsessing over her own past, wanted Klaus to do a little tinkering with Leo’s memory board. To delve back into the robot’s past a little. To give him back some of the old “evil Lenard, Corp lackey” edge he had when he was playing for the other team. Klaus may need to consult with Charl, too.
“Very well,” replied Leo. “I have texted Klaus. Might I inquire as to what the topic of your private discussion will be?”
“Sure. Because we’re going to talk about you, Leo.”
“I would be flattered—if that emotion were available to me.”
“Well, you should be. I have a feeling you’re going to help us shake off the Corp once and for all.”
“It would be my great honor, Max.” The robo-boy sounded noble. Almost heroic.
But then he did that giggle thing again and totally blew the mood.
59
“We got your message,” Charl told Max as they marched up the corridor with Isabl and Leo. “We’ve set Klaus up with everything he might need.”
“Great,” said Max. “Thanks.”
Both Charl and Isabl had compact semiautomatic weapons draped over their shoulders.
“Hana says we’re pulling out,” said Isabl.
“I guess that’s one option,” said Max.
Max and Leo had made it, without incident, back to the motel where the CMI team was staying. Now they strode into one of the motel’s small conference rooms where everybody was gathered around a long wooden table.
“The Carleigh family wants nothing more to do with us,” said Hana, sounding slightly ticked off at Max. She was seated in a padded office chair at the head of the table. “After what happened with the Corp coming after you and Isabl’s sniper shot and the police… it’s all too much.”
“I’m sorry, Hana,” said Max. “I didn’t mean to sabotage your first project as team leader.”
“Well, you did anyway, didn’t you?”
“Hey,” said Max, tired of feeling guilty and defensive, “I wish Dr. Zimm and the Corp weren’t constantly trying to track me down but, guess what? They are. Yeah. You heard that right. Dr. Zacchaeus Zimm’s back in the hunt. Leo and I bumped into him back in Princeton.”
“Well,” said Klaus, “I for one am glad you’re back safely.”
“Thank you,” said Max.
“I meant Leo, not you,” said Klaus. “Kidding. I’m glad you’re both here. Come on, Leo. I want to take a peek under your hood. Make sure you’re operating at one hundred perce
nt of your full potential before we box you up and ship you back to who knows where.”
Klaus shot Max a wink that no one else saw. On the drive through Maryland on the way to West Virginia, Max and Klaus (using Leo as an intermediary) had their private conversation, texting back and forth, plotting improvements for the “new-old” Leo/Lenard. They looped Charl and Isabl into the text conversation, too.
Max looked at her friends seated around the table. “Just because the Corp wants to stop us doesn’t mean we have to stop doing good work in the world.”
“Are you nuts?” said Keeto, directing his fury at Max. “You might as well paint a target on your back. And while you’re at it, paint one on all our backs, too.”
“Whoa,” said Siobhan. “Take a chill pill, boyo.”
“Seriously, Keeto,” added Tisa.
“I am serious,” said Keeto. “As long as Max Einstein is on this team, our lives are in constant jeopardy.”
“Maybe so,” said Max. “But you know whose life was also in constant jeopardy? Albert Einstein’s. The Germans were after him. The anti-communists in America, too. But you know what he said? ‘There is no greater satisfaction for a just and well-meaning person than the knowledge that he has devoted his best energies to the service of a good cause.’”
“Well put,” said Siobhan.
“I agree,” said Tisa.
Annika was the only one not saying much. She kept clacking keys on her laptop computer, scowling at the screen. Toma, seated beside her, had a sheet of data spread out in front of him.
“Well,” said Keeto. “I’m not Albert Einstein. And neither are you, Max.”
“Enough,” said Hana. “We’re leaving. As team leader, I’ve decided: This mission is officially canceled. Annika? Toma? How goes the planning?”
“We’re arranging air transportation for everybody,” said Toma. “It’s a logistical nightmare, getting everyone back to their home countries…”
“But,” said Annika, “we’ve put together a plan efficiently coordinating all the many moving parts: ground transportation and flight times for all CMI personnel as well as details about shipping gear, equipment, and, course, Leo back to Jerusalem where—”
“That’s it!” said Max.
“What’s what?” sneered Keeto.
“The answer to world hunger!”
60
Max started pacing up and down along the side of the conference room where there was a whiteboard mounted to the wall.
She grabbed a marker.
“Okay,” she said. “Hear me out. Try to see what I’m seeing.”
The other kids were staring at her. Charl and Isabl were smiling. They’d seen Max get lost in one of her thunderclouds of discovery before.
“On the drive back, we passed the Carleigh farm. Crops were rotting in the field. They won’t be good for anything but compost this time tomorrow.”
“We advised him to take his produce to the local farmers’ market,“ said Hana.
“Which is when?” countered Max. “Saturday?”
Hana nodded.
“Too late.” Max made a big X on the whiteboard. “It’ll all be rotten by then. This is what’s been nagging at me.” Max tapped her temple. “The big, simple idea. It keeps bubbling up, trying to present itself.”
“What?” asked Tisa, eagerly. “What is it?”
“Hunger is not a food issue,” said Max, writing the words boldly across the board. “It’s a logistics issue. There’s enough food in the world. It’s just not where it’s needed. This hunger crisis involves the whole global supply chain. Storage, transportation, packaging, shipping, roads, tracking—everything.” She moved to where Annika and Toma were working on the travel planning. “You guys—when you saw we had a travel problem, you broke it down into manageable steps. That’s what logistics is all about. The detailed coordination of a complex operation, involving lots of people, facilities, and supplies. Instead of restaurants and grocery stores and rest area snack shops throwing away perfectly good food, we need software and infrastructure to help us move it to where it is needed most!”
“Brilliant,” said Siobhan.
“May I say something?” asked Charl.
“Of course you can,” cracked Keeto. “You’re carrying a loaded weapon, aren’t you?”
“What Max is talking about reminds me of a project we have in Israel called Leket.”
Charl sounded nervous. He wasn’t used to speaking in public.
“Not only does Leket rescue healthy surplus foods from parties such as weddings and bar mitzvahs, but they also rescue the crops from the fields before they rot. A number of farms have signed up for the program and there are regular events, calling on the public to come out, to rescue the remaining vegetables and fruits, and transfer the food to where it is needed most.”
“We could do that on a small scale here in West Virginia,” said Max. “If we can prove that it will work here, then others can take the idea and expand on it all over America. All over the world! We need to use data and become decision scientists!”
Heads started nodding around the table.
“So, um, we’re not going home?” said Keeto.
“No,” said Hana. “Max’s idea has merit. I like that concept: Decision Scientist. What do we need to get started?”
And the group started brainstorming.
“Trucks!”
“A warehouse!”
“Refrigeration.”
Max let the team take over. She jotted down all their ideas on the board.
She also couldn’t help but smile. It felt great to be looking forward toward a brighter future instead of focusing so much on her own murky past.
61
The next day, things were even better.
The Corp and Dr. Zimm had made no move to snatch and grab Max. Charl and Isabl, with the help of the local police, had established a tight security perimeter around the motel. Hana, who was still the official team leader, had a real “there’s no I in team” attitude.
Keeto was the only one still grousing about “being stuck in the boondocks.”
“On our next assignment, can we please do something in a city? Some place with, I don’t know, a Starbucks or something?”
The rest of the group was working on their phones and computers. Identifying farms and restaurants with surplus food. Looking for “distribution points,” like the loose network of food pantries operating out of churches.
“We can link them all together,” suggested Siobhan. “Deliver our produce the way supermarkets deliver produce to their chain of stores.”
“I’m also talking to bakeries and restaurants,” said Tisa.
“We’re going to need a solid transportation partner,” said Hana, who’d been looking into the local trucking companies.
“UPS would be great,” said Toma. “Check this out.” He called up some research he’d discovered online. “By obsessively tracking its drivers, UPS found ‘a significant cause of idling time resulted from drivers making left turns, essentially going against the flow of traffic.’ So now, UPS drivers are encouraged to make nothing but right turns. That one little change has saved one hundred million gallons of gas and reduced carbon emissions by one hundred thousand metric tons since 2004!”
“They’d be awesome partners,” said Max.
“But remember the point you made yesterday, Max,” said Hana. “We need to start small. UPS isn’t going to jump on board until we take this notion to the national or international level.”
“That’s not our job,” said Annika. “It would be impossible for the CMI to manage an operation of that scope.”
“You’re right,” said Max. “We’re the proof of concept. Other groups are better equipped to scale it up.”
“So,” said Hana, “I found a very promising trucking company. Hambrecht Hauling. They’re locals and keen on contributing to the community.”
“They sound perfect!” said Max. “Let’s sign them up.”
�
��They want a meeting first,” said Hana. “I told them how Leo can pilot vehicles, turning them into autonomous automobiles or, for this company, self-driving trucks.”
Max grinned. “So, they want to see Leo in action before they start working with us? They want a peek at tomorrow’s technology today?”
Hana nodded. “Precisely.”
“Sounds like a small price to pay for such a big win,” said Keeto. “Take the meeting, Hana.”
“They want to meet Max, too.”
“Really?” said Max. “Why?”
“Maybe because Mr. Carleigh told everybody in a three-county radius about what went down at his farm,” suggested Klaus, swaggering into the conference room with Leo. “Face it, Max. You’re famous.”
Charl and Isabl came into the room, too. They looked intense.
“We just picked up some Corp chatter,” said Isabl.
“As did I,” said Leo.
Charl took over the briefing. “The Corp is planning an orchestrated attack at eleven hundred hours. They’re sending their hit team here to grab Max and Leo.”
“It’s ten o’clock now,” said Hana, glancing up at a clock on the wall.
“Might be a good time for Max and Leo to not be here,” suggested Keeto.
“We could go talk to your truckers,” said Max. “Take Leo. Charl and Isabl can lock down this location. If the Corp goons show up you can politely tell them, sorry, Max and Leo aren’t here.”
“And you wouldn’t be lying,” said Klaus. He nodded at Charl and Isabl. They nodded back.
“Do it, Max,” said Charl.
“No problem,” said Max.
She turned to Klaus.
“Thanks for checking out Leo.” She shook his hand. “We need him firing on all cylinders today. He has to impress the owners of a local trucking company with his mad driving skills.”
“But I don’t drive,” said Leo. “I simply pilot the craft.”
“Well, pilot us to this address,” said Hana, putting a slip of paper in front of Leo’s eyes so he could scan it into his memory.
And while she did that, Max pinned onto the lapel of her trench coat the little robot button Klaus had slipped her during their handshake.
Max Einstein Saves the Future Page 14
