The Drake Equation

by Bart King

  “Noah,” Jenny interrupted, “I’m the one who told Ronnie.”

  “Oh,” I took a deep breath and retracted my eyes.

  Jenny came closer. “But Ronnie was smart enough to figure most of it out himself.”

  Hearing Jenny say something nice about him, Ronnie looked like he wanted to hug himself. But instead, he pulled his pants leg out of his sock.

  “Okay, Boy Genius,” I said to him, “how’d you do it?”

  “R-remember on the bus with Anemona? That got me w-wondering.” Ronnie kicked his kickstand down. “And then during the earthquake, you t-told me to leave school. But after you dis-disappeared, I saw Mrs. Sanchez, so I followed her. And I was p-peeking from the classroom door as you p-punched through that wall!”

  “So you SPIED?”

  “Yes, I s-spied!” Ronnie said. “And then I remembered the news story about the br-broken power pole in front of the Brights’ house. The rest was ch-child’s play.”

  I wanted to be mad, but couldn’t. After all, this was Ronnie.

  Sensing the crisis had passed, Ronnie smiled. “So am I part of the t-team?”

  Jason laughed. “There isn’t any ‘team,’ Ronnie.” Then he looked at me. “Is there?”

  I shrugged.

  “Anyway,” said Ronnie, taking off his bike helmet. “Here’s an idea. I think your qu-qu-quincunx might be an advanced form of military technology. It’s a w-weapon of some kind.”

  “Cool!” chimed in Jason. “I knew it.”

  Jenny threw the air hockey puck at him. “You thought it was from a reality show!”

  Ronnie just ignored them. “B-b-but whether or not the quincunx IS a weapon, I don’t think it was lost. That doesn’t make any s-sense.” He stopped, as if he had more to say but didn’t want to spell it out.

  Jenny was looking at Ronnie. “So you’re saying…”

  But Ronnie was looking at Jason, who was looking at Jenny. Then I looked over at Ronnie, and now he was looking at me.

  We were all looking at one another. Now we were getting somewhere!

  “Ronnie,” Jenny coaxed, “you’re saying the quincunx’s owner knows what Noah’s been doing all along?”

  Ronnie nodded enthusiastically. “Of c-course!”

  “He’s right.” I pulled out the quincunx and seized the moment. “Actually, I got a text from its owner yesterday.”

  And that’s when everyone freaked out.

  * * *

  At first there was a lot of yelling (“Why didn’t you tell us?”) and disbelief (“An alien first grader?”). And of course, Ronnie wanted to see the quincunx up close. But after a while, everyone calmed down.

  “So what does this ‘Zorcha T’wirpo’ character look like?” asked Jason excitedly. “You have to find out, Noah. I bet it’s probably gross, like something out of the Alien movies.”

  Jenny shook her head. “You know those movies aren’t documentaries, right?”

  “Good point. But as Noah’s manager, I have to suggest that we try to get some video of T’wirpo. Then we could get it online and use it to monetize our video feed—”

  Ronnie raised his hand like he was in class. “But if T’wirpo is really from another p-p-planet, how did the quincunx get h-here?” asked Ronnie. “It’s impossible.”

  “He’s an alien,” I said, like that explained everything.

  Ronnie rubbed his bike helmet thoughtfully. “N-Noah, something to th-think about—do you really know T’wirpo is an alien from another p-p-planet?” asked Ronnie. “It could just be a c-computer program, like Siri on a s-smartphone.”

  I almost started arguing with Ronnie, but then realized he had a good point. Since I had no idea what T’wirpo even looked like, it was possible that the “alien” didn’t exist at all. Then a really disturbing thought came to me: Could it all be a trick? Maybe the quincunx ITSELF is Zorcha T’wirpo!

  I gingerly set the quincunx on a stack of board games and eyed it suspiciously.

  “What gets me is that your new friend said all of this was for a class project,” said Jason. “I don’t know if that’s awesome or major suckitude.”

  I kept an eye on the quincunx perched on a chessboard box. Am I just a pawn in some cosmic game that I don’t understand? “Right now, I’m thinking suckitude,” I said. “Major suckitude.”

  “C’mon, Noah, you got to sh-shoot ice and save those little k-kids,” encouraged Ronnie. “That’s pretty s-special.”

  “You have something special too, Ronnie,” said Jason with fake seriousness. “Special pants.”

  Ronnie looked down at his dress slacks in surprise. “T-true,” he said, smoothing out a crease. Looking at Jason’s bright-red sweatsuit, Ronnie frowned as if it hurt his eyes. “If you want, I c-can get some of th-these for you.”

  AS THE FOUR OF US KEPT TALKING, two things became clear.

  1. Ronnie had no idea he’d just hit Jason with the perfect comeback, and…

  2. Everyone really wanted me to contact T’wirpo.

  “It worked once, but I don’t want to threaten throwing the quincunx in water again just to get T’wirpo to talk.” Perching the disc on my hand, I showed my friends the five-finger method I’d used before. “But nothing happens when I try this now.”

  Ronnie put his hands on his hips. (Somehow, he could get away with this.) “What if you t-try that with your other h-hand?”

  I did. Nothing.

  “Maybe it’s a rhythm thing,” said Jenny. “Stick one finger in, then the next finger, and like that.”

  I put my forefinger in the quincunx’s top left hole. “I’m telling you,” I said (putting my big finger in the next one) “it’s not going” (now my ring finger and pinkie went in the bottom holes) “to work.” Lastly, I set my thumb in the center hole.

  The quincunx’s screen turned red and a song rang out: “Greetings! You made con-tact! Oh, well done! Please speak to T’wirpo!”

  We all jumped. But even though Jenny was as shocked as the rest of us, she still managed a “told ya.”

  Despite the song, I assumed I’d be seeing one of T’wirpo’s text messages when I tapped the quincunx’s screen. Jenny, Jason, and Ronnie moved closer, and then a voice rang out—

  “Greetings, No-ah.”

  I bobbled the quincunx, and Ronnie, Jenny, and Jason all quickly backed away. It’s speaking!

  “Greetings to your companions as well.”

  The voice was flat, with no emphasis. I couldn’t tell how old the speaker was, or even if it was a male or female.

  But I knew it was T’wirpo. I looked at my friends—I’d never seen their eyes or mouths open so wide. Jenny shook her head a little like she was waking up and whispered, “Ask if there’s a way that we can meet.”

  “That is Jen-ny, yes? In response to your inquiry, it would not be wise.”

  This brought Jason back to life. He stepped closer and yelled: “Jason here! Hey, if we could see you, we wouldn’t be all distracted, wondering what you look like. And it’d also help us understand each other better. So you know, we’d be killing two birds with one stone.”

  “I have no desire to kill two birds,” T’wirpo said. “Not with stones, nor any geological objects.”

  Jason wasn’t discouraged. “Don’t worry, it’s just a saying. And hey, we earthlings won’t judge you if you’re all gross and hideous.” I made a cutting motion across my throat. Jason gave me a thumbs-up back. “Like, are you slimy, T’wirpo? Do you have tentacles? No offense.”

  “Me, hideous? Ja-son, the first time I saw humans, I was terrified. My parental units had trouble convincing me that you were even intelligent life-forms. No offense.”

  Now, imagine a barking platypus. That was the sound that came from the quincunx. I couldn’t be 100 percent positive, but I was pretty sure T’wirpo was laughing.

  “Did T’wirpo just trash-talk Jason?” Jenny asked. “I like this alien already.”

  Then Ronnie—who barely had the nerve to talk to Jenny—spoke up. “Gr-greetings, T’
wirpo! Ronnie here. Is it r-rude to ask why we can’t t-talk face-to-f-face?”

  “It would prove to be a problem.” T’wirpo paused. “But excuse me. No-ah, might we please speak alone for a time?”

  I mouthed “Sorry!” and pointed to the driveway. The three of them reluctantly trooped out of the garage. “They’re gone now. And you’re right, we have some serious stuff to talk about.”

  “I understand,” said T’wirpo in a quieter voice than before. “No-ah, you are aware that powerful forces run our universe, yes? Forces that affect all of us?”

  “You mean like gravity?”

  “No. I mean forces like good and evil. My project is designed to see which of these forces is stronger in humans.”

  “Oh! Well, that’s…an interesting topic.”

  “Many intelligent species in the galaxy find humans to be illogical, unpredictable, and violent. And none of us can understand your fascination with frozen yogurt.”

  “But you know we have our good points too.”

  “True. I believe humans have positive traits, but few agree with me. My schoolmates sometimes taunt me for my affection for your species. Even my best friend has called me ‘human brain’ and ‘people watcher.’”

  “They sound mean, T’wirpo.”

  “Children can be cruel, no matter the species,” T’wirpo said with what sounded like a sigh. “But back to my project—I have studied your species’ statistics and learned many things about your life expectancy, growth rate, and even brain size. In fact, here is a selection from my report….”

  An image appeared on the quincunx screen:

  BRAIN SIZE ANALYSIS: THE HUMANS OF EARTH

  □ LARGEST BRAINS ON PLANET: ELEPHANTS, WHALES

  □ LARGEST BRAIN SIZE RELATIVE TO BODY SIZE: ANTS (1/7)

  THE HUMANS OF EARTH DO NOT HAVE ESPECIALLY LARGE BRAINS. THE RATIO OF BRAIN SIZE TO BODY WEIGHT IS ONE TO FORTY, THE SAME AS A MOUSE. MANY BIRDS HAVE MUCH LARGER RELATIVE BRAIN SIZES (1/14).

  CONCLUSION: HUMAN BRAIN SIZE IS UNIMPRESSIVE. FURTHER, THE ORGAN IS INCAPABLE OF EVEN STORING THE FULL VOCABULARY OF LANGUAGE A HUMAN NEEDS TO COMMUNICATE.

  “Wow,” I said. “You make us sound so lame.”

  “Yes,” T’wirpo agreed. “But statistics are not enough. Observing behavior is important. This is where the quincunx is of use.”

  I glared at the sparkling quincunx in my hand. “You traitor!” Remember how I’d thought I was being watched when I found it? And here I’d been keeping the spy right in my pocket all along.

  I thought back about the way I’d behaved since discovering the quincunx. Sure, I’d made some big mistakes, but overall I’d done more good than harm, right? I mean, the black swifts were safe, at least for now.

  “My behavior didn’t reflect on us humans too badly, right, T’wirpo?”

  “It is too early to state. But your adventures have yielded entertainments! For example, your ‘peanut butter incident’ was replayed many times all over my POO.”

  I’m a viral star in another solar system!

  This meant Jason was closest to the truth when he predicted we were being pranked. “But why make fiery peanut butter, T’wirpo? And why make me float?”

  “These decisions are mostly the work of your quincunx. As you know, it is alive, and can act semi-independently.”

  By now, I believed that T’wirpo really was a “real” alien. But what the alien had just said was something I couldn’t believe: “So you don’t take any responsibility for what the quincunx does? That’s sad, T’wirpo.”

  “Yet surely you do not hold a gardener responsible for what his tomatoes do?” demanded T’wirpo.

  “Tomatoes don’t do anything!” I exclaimed. “And if they did, we wouldn’t hand them to innocent children.”

  “Very well. I accept your reproach.” T’wirpo paused. “It is true that my species is especially fond of embarrassing events. This may explain the quincunx’s choices.”

  Was I surprised that a seven-year-old alien liked childish comedy? No. But his entire species? I imagined what the quincunx’s programming checklist looked like:

  □ HUMAN SLIPS ON BANANA PEEL, FALLS INTO CEMENT MIXER

  □ HUMAN INHALES MARBLE UP NOSE, STAGGERS INTO PATH OF ONCOMING ICE CREAM TRUCK

  ✓ HUMAN SWALLOWS AIR, FLOATS LIKE DAY-OLD BIRTHDAY BALLOON

  And despite myself, I smiled. Whatever our differences, it was nice to know we humans had something in common with an alien species.

  “No-ah, as I said, our galaxy contains a number of different intelligent species. The majority of them agree that life is rare and should be protected.”

  This was music to my ears. The aliens were environmentalists!

  “There are also rational species that are very dangerous. We use an index to rate these antisocial species. The three with the worst ratings include the Ice Lampreys of Zaltan and the Brain Spiders of Mingrop. These life-forms are intelligent and also quite deadly.”

  “So everyone wants to be protected from them?” I shivered. Ice Lampreys! As scary as they sounded, it was nice knowing that someone was keeping an eye out for universal safety.

  “Hey, you said there were three monstrous, antisocial intelligent species.”

  “Yes,” said T’wirpo. “The Humans of Earth are the third.”

  “Wait, what?”

  I looked out at my friends in the driveway. We’re monsters!

  Ronnie, Jenny, and Jason looked back. “N-Noah?” called Ronnie. “What’s wr-wrong?”

  “Oh, nothing.” I said weakly. “T’wirpo just wanted to tell me about some stuff. And some other…stuff.” I looked back at the quincunx, but its screen had vanished. The call must have disconnected right after T’wirpo told me the universe wanted nothing to do with us.

  “Right,” said Jenny, rolling her eyes. “Let me guess—T’wirpo has a crush on a redheaded alien psycho and needs your expert advice?”

  THE BLACK SWIFT WHIZZED TOWARD THE WATERFALL. Then, at the last second, it landed on a rock and crawled behind the plunging water.

  It must be past three o’clock by now—so where’s Sanjay?

  Waiting for the mystery kid gave me time to think about what a wild ride I’d been on for the last six days. I kept saying I didn’t want an adventure, I thought. But I guess sometimes the adventure finds you.

  A movement on the ground caught my eye. A salamander was slowly making its way to the pool. It was dark purple—almost black—with bright-yellow splotches on it, like paint drippings. As I watched the salamander, a jackrabbit hopped into the canyon.

  I looked back, where a coyote was watching me. Then it too loped off in the direction of the jackrabbit.

  I felt a surge of pride. I hadn’t just saved the black swifts. I’d saved a home for all these animals. But could this home survive on a planet that was run by “monsters”—like me?

  A girl suddenly appeared at the trailhead, pushing a powder-blue bike with colored streamers on the handlebars. She propped it on its kickstand and began making weird, exaggerated movements, like she was dancing underwater.

  What is she doing?

  She stretched out an arm, jumped to the side, and waved at her other hand. Then she brought her shoulders up in a contorted shrug. Finally, she shook her hands in the air, ran a few steps, and yelled, “Stupid spiders!”

  Oh man, she’s just freaking out about a spiderweb.

  “Hey.” Spiderweb Girl had noticed me. She couldn’t have been older than fourth grade, yet she looked vaguely familiar. “You must be the one Sanjay said would be here. What’s your name again?”

  “I’m Noah. Noah Grow.”

  “Your first and middle names are ‘Noah’?”

  “No,” I said. “Wait, what?”

  “You just said your name was Noah Noah Grow.”

  “No, I meant my name was Noah.” I paused. “Noah Grow.”

  Spiderweb Girl clapped her hands together. “You just did it again!”

  Luckily, Sanjay appeared a
t the trailhead. He was wearing a little backpack and pushing his bright-orange bike up the trail. Another boy and a girl followed behind, both pushing bikes as well.

  Sanjay nodded at me as the three of them parked their bikes behind Spiderweb Girl’s. Then the group spread out and formed a half circle around me. Like Sanjay earlier, they all seemed excited, as if something was about to happen.

  “Everyone, this is Noah,” Sanjay rasped. He shrugged his backpack off and began rummaging around in it. “And I think that Noah has one of…these.” He held up an object he had fished out of his pack.

  “No.” I staggered backward when I saw it. “That’s—that’s impossible.”

  There at the end of his robot arm, Sanjay was holding a familiar, glittering device.

  A quincunx.

  I STARED AT SANJAY’S QUINCUNX. Like mine, it was shimmering and iridescent, but where mine was greenish-purple, this one gleamed ocean blue. “That’s got to be fake,” I whispered.

  Spiderweb Girl cocked her head at me. “Why?”

  “Because…I have the only one!” It sounds silly, but it felt like a betrayal to see a quincunx in someone else’s hands.

  The other boy, a bony kid in a knit hat, pointed at me. “So you have one too, but you keep it all to yourself.”

  “Why—I suppose you all share that one?” I asked sarcastically.

  “That’s right,” Knit-Hat Boy confirmed. “We were together when we found it.”

  “Oh.”

  “See, all of us got elected as fourth-grade officers,” said Sanjay proudly. “I’m class vice president. And Nyla”—he pointed to Spiderweb Girl—“is the fourth-grade webmaster.”

  “I’m president,” announced the group’s fourth member, a girl with a sequined rainbow on her T-shirt. It seemed like she was going to say more, but a fern distracted her.

  Even so, the other three kids were looking at me like they expected something.

  “Uh. Congratulations, everyone?”

  “Thanks!” Sanjay grinned.