by Adam Holt
Finally I convinced her to limit her public relations. After all, I needed a quiet environment to study for my exams. You can convince adults to do a lot of things if it’s school-related.
I hadn’t been to class in a few days, and I was looking forward to returning. I hoped everyone would treat me like they had for the first few weeks of holoclassing. Back then Tabitha had pretended to be my manager. “Ladies and gentlemen, HoloTully has entered the building!” she would announce. Then Sunjay would hide behind someone’s desk. I would search for him. Suddenly he would pop up and do a roundhouse kick at my head—he is really good at martial arts. Everyone liked trying to high-five a hologram or throw a pen right through “HoloTully.” I threw on my glasses and hoped for the best.
It was 5:02 again, but Dr. Vindler skipped his tardy to class speech. Sunjay and Tabitha awkwardly waved hello. Maybe they were trying to make me feel normal, but I felt out of place. The class went by at a snail’s pace, and I focused on note taking like never before. Finally, Dr. Vindler made an announcement: “Class, our plans have changed. We’ll still do our exam review sessions, but our movie schedule has been cancelled.” Everyone moaned. Really? Why? I thought, but Vindler explained. “We’ve got something more important to discuss here at the end of the year. The Harper Device!”
Whenever he said “Harper Device,” he gestured toward me, like I was some sort of celebrity. My classmates all eyed me, like it was my fault that we wouldn’t be watching movies. They tried to treat me like all was normal, but we all realized the discovery meant more work. They resented the extra work. I couldn’t blame them for that, but why did they blame me? From then on my classmates always got quiet when I appeared in the back of the room. I was some kind of annoying celebrity—or an alien. When I appeared, people would quiet down and say “Hey, Tully” or nothing at all. They pretended that they hadn’t been grumbling about the extra work or the Device. My dad’s picture was everybody’s screen-saver though. It’s weird when your dad is a screensaver.
Only Sunjay and Tabitha really got back to normal. Tabitha twirled her scarf and smiled at me. No matter what time of year, Tabitha wore a scarf. She passed me random doodles. One doodle was a thousand dollar bill. Under it she wrote, “Dear HoloTully, this is your manager, the one who made you dire famous. You owe me loads of money now and a ride in your dad’s spaceship. XOXO, Tabitha.”
Sunjay did what he does best. He asked a thousand questions: “How are you doing? How’s your Dad? When are you getting home again? Does Alaska smell like Texas?” He could ask a thousand questions about anything. Sunjay was the master of getting people off track. His ridiculous questions usually drive teachers crazy (“Does this count for a grade?” “Can I do that for extra credit?” “Did you hear my new ring tone?”), but sometimes he gets on a roll in Science. Sunjay’s parents are both researchers at the Space Alliance. He’s like a clone of his dad. When he and Dr. Vindler talked about the Device, most everyone listened except Tabitha, who ignored everything. She made straight A’s, but she was off in space most days, reciting lines from a play in her head. That was Tabitha.
Fortunately Sunjay helped me dodge most of the tough questions about the Harper Device in Science until the last day before exams.
“Tully,” said Dr. Vindler, “we’ve been discussing your father and the Harper Device for days instead of watching movies, yet you haven’t said a thing. I’d like you to summarize some of our discussions at least, if you would.”
“Right now?” I asked.
“Yes, right now,” he said, giving me a sharp look. “Right now. Stand up, please.”
Uh-oh. My hologram image stood up. Everyone turned to look at me. All I could think was how close I was to getting home, but I knew I had to say something intelligent now.
“I’ll give you a topic. Tell us why water on the South Pole of Mars is so important.”
“Water on the South Pole?” I said. That wasn’t so bad. “Because we can colonize both poles of Mars, not just one. We already have that colony on the North Pole. Now that we have the South Pole, we can double the population. From there, we can colonize other places, like the moons of Jupiter or Saturn.”
“Well said, Tully,” Dr. Vindler nodded his approval, but he wasn’t done. “Now, tell me what your thoughts are on the Harper Device. What do you think is its purpose?”
“Purpose? Uh, we don’t know,” I said. “It looks like a miniature version of Saturn or something.”
“Well, yes, everyone saw that,” he said. “But doesn’t it seem to have a purpose? Did it help your dad discover water on Mars?”
“Huh?” I hadn’t thought about the purpose of the Harper Device, other than it almost crushed my dad.
Vindler continued. “Do you think the Device is intelligent? Was it sent to help your father? How will it benefit humanity? Please give us your thoughts.”
Even though it was cold in Alaska, I could feel my face getting hot. How could I possibly know anything about that? It wasn’t even back on Earth, and neither was my dad. I felt like I was on a game show where the audience knows the answer but the contestant stumbles.
“I—uh, I’m just glad my dad is safe,” I said.
“We all are, too,” said Dr. Vindler, “but that’s not my question. You’ve sat in the back of the class and said nothing about this discovery for two weeks. Your thoughts, please.”
Vindler hopped off his desk and crossed his arms. I was about to take off my hologlasses and make the whole scene disappear. That’s when Tabitha cleared her throat and spoke up.
“Dr. Vindler,” she said, “can I be honest with you? I’d really like to hear what you think. You know science better than anybody else here,” she said, turning toward him. I felt the eyes move back to the front of the room.
He sat on his desk and hiked up his sagging pants. He clearly enjoyed the attention, and I was glad to be out of the spotlight. “Well, what do I think it is? Good question, young lady. I think it’s a symbol. We should never, never stop exploring. Like a mountaintop encourages people to climb. Like a rainbow stands for peace. Just imagine—out of nowhere this celestial ball of gas plopped down in the middle of a crater, almost like it wanted us to find water on Mars.”
For once Dr. Vindler sounded more like an English teacher than a mad scientist. “Ha! The universe still has plenty of mysteries. That’s what I think. I don’t really know its purpose either, but it could lead to amazing discoveries. The Space Alliance researchers will know soon enough. Speaking of soon enough, look at the clock on the wall. Just like Mr. Wells has been doing for the last twenty minutes, trying to use his mental powers to make time pass more quickly. Impressive work, Mr. Wells. What time is it?”
“Time to go, sir?”
“Bravo, Mr. Wells! Class dismissed.”
Tabitha saved the day. Sunjay packed up and ran to his next class because he had a test. I took a deep breath. I was about to take off my hologlasses and disappear, but she was still packing up beside me.
“How’s Romeo and Juliet?” I asked.
“Ugh, not so good. I have to kiss Romeo at the end to get the poison off his lips so I can die. It’s not that hard to fake my death but the kiss thing is terrible.”
“Is he a bad kisser?”
“I guess not, but he eats a peanut butter and jelly sandwich before every show and I feel like I’m really going to die. I’m allergic to peanuts. Bad breath of death for Juliet.”
“Well, keep up the good death, I guess.” I felt relieved. I mean, what if Tabitha fell in love with Romeo? She wouldn’t have time for me and Sunjay.
“Oh, but how are you! You’ll be home soon. Super excited?”
“Definitely. It’s freezing up here right now.”
“I can tell. Your breath.” She puffed up her cheeks. “It’s frosty when you talk. Hey, don’t get embarrassed about all this space stuff. Your dad is a hero,” she said. “That’s dire cool.”
“I guess so,” I said. “Thanks for distracting Dr. Vin
dler. He drives me crazy sometimes. It’s just—“
“I know. Teacher teacher, not a mean creature, and poor HoloTully goes all red in the head. Cheer up! Space shrinks every day.”
That is what Sunjay and I called a Tabism. It was sort of like this accidental riddle that Tabitha spouted off at least once a day. She expected you to “get it,” but you never really did. You just had to wait for her to translate it into English. I cocked my head and looked at her.
“You don’t get that one? Vindler is just being Vindler. He isn’t trying to embarrass you. He just wants to hear your thoughts. Don’t worry. Your dad’ll be back soon, and so will you,” she said, packing the rest of her bag. “Just in time for summer! It’ll be nice to see the real Tully again, not this weird hologram thing.” She left the room, with the scarf flowing behind her.
Weird hologram thing. That’s what I felt like most of the time my Dad was gone. I wanted to be real Tully again, too. I looked at my flickering hands through the hologlasses. I watched her leave the room. She usually walked out with some of the other girls in class, but I realized something. She had stayed behind that day to talk to me. That was dire cool. And for a moment I thought about how much fun we could have in a musical or play together. I wondered how it would feel to stand on stage with her in some major dramatic moment like that, swords in our hands and poison on our lips, pretending like our lives were on the line.
On her way out a piece of paper fell out of her bag. It was folded in half. “Tabitha, your doodles!” I yelled, but she didn’t hear. I had no way to pick up her note either. It was a hologram to me. Crouching on the floor, I could see some of the drawing. It was a really good drawing of my Dad in the crater. “DANGER?” was written above it. Maybe she was paying attention in class, I thought. Next there was a big rainbow that connected to another doodle. I could read “TULL” but couldn’t see the rest of the doodle. My heart jumped. The note was folded. I wanted to see the rest of the doodle but I couldn’t make it out. I put my nose on the floor but couldn’t read anymore of the note. Dang.
At that moment I heard running in the hall and Tabitha re-entered. She saw me there, with my nose to the floor, trying to read her note. Kinda awkward.
“Oh, my doodly doodles!” she said, crouching for her note, her hair in her eyes. The room was empty and quiet except for the two of us. She pushed back her hair. Our eyes met for a moment as we both looked up from the note. I wanted to ask her what her doodling meant, but I kind of lost my train of thought, seeing her soft green eyes and the freckles on her cheeks.
“Thanks, HoloTully!” she said, smiling. “Did you, could you see that?”
“Oh, your doodles? No, not really,” I lied. “I’m just a weird hologram thing.”
I took off the hologlasses and was suddenly back in Middle of Nowhere, Alaska, holding a cold cup of coffee. Aunt Selma was in the other room on the phone. “That Tully, he splits wood really good for a little fella. I’ll miss having him around.”
When I tucked myself into bed that night, I tried to think of three good things from the day. It’s a good habit. I kept saying to myself, A few more days, just a few more days! I would be back in Houston hanging out with friends, Dad would be home, and I could eat mountains of Mexican food again. Eventually those thoughts subsided, and Science class came back to me: how Dr. Vindler embarrassed me and Tabitha got me off the hook. Tabitha Tirelli, star of Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet. Scarf twirler. Peanut allergy sufferer. Good friend. I thought about our moment in the classroom. Did she think the Device was dangerous? What did she write about me? Was she thinking about me? Or maybe she just likes rainbows and was thinking about them because we talked about symbols. I missed my chance to ask her, all because of her cute freckles and lovely green eyes. Did I just use “cute” and “lovely” to describe Tabitha?
Relax, I told myself, you’ll be home soon and it will be summer. Everything will be back to normal in a few more days. My thoughts trailed off as I pictured my dad on his way back to Earth, along with his newfound fame and that mysterious swirling object. A few more days. A few more…
ALL HAIL THE PROPHET OF THE UNIVERSE
Finally it was time to head home. I kissed Aunt Selma goodbye and took the hyper flight back to Houston, which was a first. The Space Alliance usually put me on a regular plane, but the hyper flight on Universal Airlines took only thirty minutes from Gnome, Alaska to Houston, Texas. Dad picked me up at the airport in his 1967 Mustang. He may be an astronaut, but he loves antiques. “The car is your older, adopted brother,” he once told me. He and the Mustang awaited me outside baggage claim. Dad wore his Astros hat and a purple Space Alliance polo. The second he saw me he revved the car’s engine. Then he jumped out of the car, slid over the hood, and nearly crushed me with an enormous bear hug.
“You hungry?” he asked. “Good!”
We drove straight to our favorite restaurant: Pappasito’s Mexican Diner. We both ordered beef fajitas and ate until we were full. Then we ordered tres leches cake and ate until we practically popped. After months of caribou and asparagus (Aunt Selma’s survivalist diet), it was like heaven. Apparently my dad had the same feeling. “The food printer on The Adversity malfunctioned,” he explained between bites, “and we could only print tuna casserole and iced tea for an entire month.” We were both teary eyed, happy to see each other and happy to eat steaming tortillas filled with beef and cheese and guacamole. Everything felt so normal and happy that it didn’t even feel real.
Then reality started to sink in. I noticed the other families around us, pointing and whispering. On the way out a few people wanted photos and autographs, and my dad signed and smiled but tried to make a quick getaway. However, a lot of people followed us to the parking lot. Everyone wanted a picture with the famous astronaut beside his century-old Mustang. Then the crowd got rowdy. They hoisted my dad in the air and started tossing him like it was his bar mitzvah. “Harper! Harper!” they chanted. I was afraid they were going to drop him, but he just tossed me the keys.
“Tully, rev the engine!” he yelled. I hopped in the Mustang, turned the key, and hit the gas pedal. The sound of the roaring engine drew everyone’s attention. “No way! A gasoline-powered engine!” someone yelled. I slid into the passenger seat as everyone snapped photos with their holophones and hologlasses. My dad broke through the crowd and jumped into the driver’s seat beside me. He laughed and tousled my hair.
“Let’s order a pizza next time,” I said.
“Good call. We may be eating in until people calm down. I should have realized it. During post-flight debriefing one of the younger guys told me, ‘You know, Commander, the Harper Device is kind of a thing right now, and so are you.’”
I guess when your dad is a celebrity, you have to learn to share him with other people, I thought as we made our way home.
The house looked just as we left it—a 2-story red brick house in the suburbs. It wasn’t until we got home that I really looked at my dad in the bright light of our kitchen. More reality. Astronauts stay in great shape, and my dad spent hours lifting weights and doing Crossfit to keep himself ready for his job. Maybe it was just the effects of a month of tea and tuna, but he looked thinner than before with a few more wrinkles. When he took off his Astros hat, I was more surprised. As always he had a blonde crew cut, but now there was a diagonal streak of fiery red running through the blonde. I tried hard not to stare.
Other people noticed the red streak, too, but after a few days I noticed another subtle change—this red flicker in his blue eyes when he was laughing or thinking. It wasn’t a reflection. It looked like a light coming from inside him. His eyes flickered when I asked him about his mission, the only time he became quiet and serious. “Tully, you’ve already heard what I told the media, right? I knew you would be curious, but there’s not much else I can tell you. Let’s just enjoy the summer. We don’t need to think about Mars for a while.” I guess that’s all there was to say. I wanted to know more, but he wanted to get back to
normal life. I couldn’t object to that.
We blended into a good summer routine. My dad cooked breakfast, read the paper, stayed in shape, and did interviews from his home office. Sunjay bounded through the door by noon and we played video games for a few hours. He taught me his newest martial arts maneuvers, usually a kick that knocked over a chair or a vase, in which case my dad told us to take it outside. He didn’t like us sitting inside and “wasting” our summer indoors.
We had a trampoline and pool in the backyard, but we forgot those toys the second my dad brought home a new toy—an Upthruster, a new type of hoverboard. It wasn’t available for sale yet, but the creator, a retired astronaut named Dr. Chet Chan, gave us one as a “welcome home” gift. His boards were better than regular hoverboards. Any hoverboard could skim a few feet off the ground, but the Upthruster could fly! Dr. Chan made a few dozen, calling them “surfboards with wings,” and that was accurate. The Upthruster was seven feet long, with three fins on the back and tiny thrusters on the bottom and sides. Top speed? 30 miles per hour. Highest altitude? 50 feet. Higher and faster were possible, but he gave us a low-powered version. That was probably for the best. The board also came with a “brain bucket,” which had a double purpose. It acted like a safety helmet but could also read brain waves. The brain bucket understood your thoughts, so operation was simple. 1. Put on “brain bucket.” 2. Strap leash onto leg. 3. Think about what you want to do and hang on!
Sunjay and I wasted no more time inside. Upthrusting was fun, felt dangerous, and Sunjay and I couldn’t get enough. The first days we cruised along the sidewalk, above the creek, or over the treetops in our neighborhood. I mastered the controls pretty quickly, but Sunjay often freaked out and lost his concentration at higher altitudes. I held my breath when he fell off the board, but the leash kept him from plummeting to his death. He hung by one leg as the board slowly descended to the ground, always depositing him in our front yard. The higher he was, the more embarrassing the fall. Every time he fell off—pretty often—I almost died laughing, watching the board slowly bringing him down the street to our yard, often through our neighbor’s bushes or past a group of high school kids. Of course I occasionally fell off, too, and Sunjay got his chance to laugh until he cried.
