Science Fair

by Dave Barry, Ridley Pearson

  He tore his eyes away from the uniform and moved along the basement wall. The light-saber glow illuminated a box. Vaderian knelt, opened it, and found bundles of bubble wrap. He picked one off the top, unwrapped it, and gasped as he revealed the hilt of a light saber—not a later reproduction like the one he wore, but one that had the distinctive (to Vaderian’s eyes) indications of an original handmade prop.

  Could it possibly be?

  “Is this the stuff we’re after?” the Wookiee asked.

  Vaderian glared at him. “This,” he said, “is not stuff. This is…this is…” He waved a hand to indicate that there was no way he could explain the importance of this to an idiot like the Wookiee.

  Valderian’s heart beat faster as he rummaged through that box, and then another box next to it, and then another, finding more and more treasures, each more astonishing than the last, including what appeared to be the actual Chewbacca’s ammunition bandolier. Flashing his light saber around the room, Vaderian saw more rare artifacts, large and small. In another corner he saw a sheet draped over a distinctive domed shape; peeking out the bottom were the unmistakable wheeled appendages of R2-D2. Under his black mask, Vaderian’s face broke into a wide smile. He emitted a giggle, which the voice distorter transformed into a hideous sound.

  This was it. Vaderian was certain. This was the mother lode. This was the fabled lost ark of Star Wars memorabilia. And soon it was all going to belong to him.

  He stood and turned to the Wookiee, about to give orders for getting the collection upstairs and into the truck.

  Then, a sound from upstairs. He froze. The front door had opened and shut. Voices: a man and woman. Footsteps crossing directly overhead. Vaderian and the Wookiee looked at the basement ceiling, the two of them rigidly still in the deathly glow of the light saber.

  Vaderian considered their options. They could wait here in the basement until the people upstairs—the little weasel’s parents, no doubt—had gone to sleep. But that could be hours. And even then, how could he and the Wookiee get the collection up the stairs and out the back door without being heard? Or what if the people upstairs noticed the broken doorknob on the basement door? What if they decided to come downstairs?

  Vaderian pondered this, trying to figure out how he and the Wookiee would respond. One thing he knew for sure: now that he had found the mother lode, he wasn’t about to let it out of his grasp.

  Listening to the footsteps overhead, Vaderian tightened his grip on the light saber.

  He would not let these people stop him.

  TOBY, TAMARA, AND MICAH sat in uncomfortable plastic chairs on one side of the long wooden conference table. Drmtsi and Vrsk sat across from them, chomping their way through the plateful of muffins, which they had moved onto the table for easier access. The five of them had been sitting in silence for a while, pondering their situation and waiting for whatever was going to happen next. Toby was still holding the stick of Air Zerkistan chewing gum that Vrsk had given him; he planned to use it when the feds returned. Meanwhile, there was nothing to do but wait and watch the weird foreign guys eating the muffins.

  Finally, tired of the silence, Toby spoke to the men across the table.

  “Where are you guys from, anyway?” he said.

  “We are from Krpshtskan,” said Vrsk, pronouncing the name of the country in such a way that he sent a spray of muffin crumbs halfway across the table.

  “Where’s that?” said Toby, eyeing the crumbs warily.

  “Is near Fazul,” said Vrsk.

  “Fazul?” said Toby.

  “You know Fazul?” said Vrsk.

  “No,” said Toby.

  “Is very famous hole there,” said Vrsk. “Great Hole of Fazul. You never heard of this?”

  “Sorry, no,” said Toby. He glanced at the ceiling, where he was pretty sure there were cameras and microphones. He decided he no longer cared: he wanted to know who these guys were.

  “So,” he said. “What brings you here?”

  “What?” said Vrsk.

  “Why did you come to the United States?” said Toby.

  Vrsk’s eyes darted sideways toward Drmtsi before he answered. “We are tourists,” he said. “We are here for touristism.”

  “Is that why you were at Jungle Norman’s?” said Toby.

  “Yes,” said Vrsk. “We were touristing at Jungle of Norman.”

  “And you don’t know anything about the thing that was in the gorilla’s hat?”

  Vrsk nearly choked on his muffin, then coughed for half a minute before he could speak. “No,” he said finally. “We are never seeing this gorilla before. Is stranger gorilla to us.”

  “Really,” said Toby.

  “In our country,” said Vrsk, “is no gorillas. Is mostly goats. But not singing.”

  Drmtsi, who had been watching this conversation with narrowed eyes, swallowed a mouthful of muffin and said to Vrsk in Krpsht, “What are you talking to this boy about?”

  “He is asking why we are here. I told him we are tourists.”

  “Good,” said Drmtsi. “But now stop talking to the boy, because I must tell you the plan to escape.”

  “Escape?” said Vrsk.

  “Yes,” said Drmtsi. “It is our duty to escape and help Prmkt destroy America. Also, I must order more merchandise from the television shopping people.”

  “But there are many guards here,” said Vrsk. “Perhaps we should wait for—”

  “No time to wait!” snapped Drmtsi. “Here is the plan. Do you have any more smerk?”

  Vrsk felt his pants. “A little,” he said.

  “Good,” said Drmtsi. “When the guards come back, I will watch them for the right moment. This moment is when the door is unlocked, and the guards are nearby to you. At this right moment I will give you a secret signal, like this.”

  Drmtsi clapped his hands twice, startling Toby, Micah, and Tamara.

  “These guys,” said Tamara, “are even weirder than they smell.”

  Drmtsi glanced at her, then continued speaking to Vrsk in Krpsht. “When you hear this secret signal, you will take the smerk from your pants and hurl it into the eyes of the guards.”

  “Their eyes?” said Vrsk. “Are you sure?” There was an old expression in Krpshtskan that roughly translated to “Better to have an angry scorpion in your underwear than smerk in your eyes.”

  “Yes, I am sure,” said Drmtsi. “When you throw the smerk, I will run out the door and escape.”

  “I see,” said Vrsk. He frowned. “But how will I escape?”

  Drmtsi reached for another muffin. “Maybe, after hurling the smerk, you can run out the door also,” he said. “But if not, Prmkt and I will come get you after we destroy America.”

  “I see,” said Vrsk.

  “It is a good plan, yes?” said Drmtsi, chewing.

  “Yes,” Vrsk agreed, although not sincerely.

  The hall outside echoed with the sound of approaching footsteps. All eyes turned to the door, which opened; in walked agents Turow, Iles, and Lefkon, who closed the door behind them. Toby quietly removed the Air Zerkistan gum from its wrapper, put it into his mouth, and began chewing. It was like chewing cardboard, only it didn’t taste as good. Across the table, Drmtsi sat up, and watching the agents closely, prepared to give the attack signal to Vrsk when they got close enough.

  But the agents didn’t approach the two men. Instead they went to the head of the table. They looked tired, and they were. They’d been up all night monitoring their suspects, first in their sleeping quarters, then in the conference room; both rooms, as Toby had suspected, were bugged. The agents had hoped to learn something, anything, about the relationship between the Krpshtskanis and the children. They had been disappointed. The children had said little, obviously aware of the cameras and microphones. The two men had spoken, but mostly to each other, and in a language nobody in the building understood; their conversation had been recorded and sent to government linguists with an urgent request for translation.

&nbs
p; Meanwhile, there was intense pressure on Turow and the others from higher-ups in a half-dozen government agencies to find out who the Krpshtskanis were, what connection they had with these children, and—above all—how this motley group came to be in possession of what was supposed to be extremely classified technology.

  Turow leaned on the table with both arms and glared. The agents had decided to use the Good Cop/Bad Cop interrogation technique. Lefkon was the Good Cop; Turow was the Bad Cop.

  “All right,” Turow said. “We need some answers, and if we don’t start getting them right now, things are going to get very unpleasant for all of you.”

  Micah raised his hand.

  “What?” said Turow.

  “I need to go to the bathroom,” said Micah.

  “Tough,” sneered Bad Cop Turow.

  “But I—”

  “I said NO!” bellowed Turow, slapping his hands hard on the table causing Micah to jerk backward so hard he almost tipped his chair over.

  “Hey, easy,” said Good Cop Lefkon, putting a restraining hand on Turow’s arm. “If he has to go to the bathroom, let him go.”

  Turow glared at Lefkon as though he was about to slap her, although of course this was part of the act. For several dramatic seconds the room was silent as the two agents faced off. The silence was broken by Tamara.

  “So, let me guess,” she said. “You”—she pointed at Turow—“are the Bad Cop, and you”—she pointed at Lefkon—“are the Good Cop.”

  Turow sighed. Lefkon suppressed a giggle. They were both thinking the same thing: These kids watch too much television. Turow was pondering what he would say next when Vrsk said, “He is growing dark.”

  “What?” said Turow.

  “Boy,” said Vrsk, pointing at Toby. “He is dark.”

  Everyone looked. Tamara screamed. Toby’s face had turned a startling deep purple. His eyeballs were rolled back, wide-open, showing only the whites. His body was rigid, vibrating; cords stood out in his neck.

  “Toby, what’s happening?” shouted Micah at his friend.

  “He’s having a seizure,” said Iles, moving quickly to Toby. “Get some help!”

  Lefkon ran from the room; Turow stood guard by the door. Drmtsi and Vrsk exchanged a look, but there was no opportunity to execute Drmtsi’s escape plan. A moment later Lefkon returned with the facility nurse, a man named Levine. He went to Toby, who was lying on his back on the floor, moaning. Toby’s color was starting to return. He had quietly spat the gum into his hand.

  “Son,” said Levine, “can you hear me?”

  “Yes,” said Toby weakly.

  “Can you tell me what happened?” said Levine.

  “No,” said Toby.

  Levine examined Toby briefly, then said to Iles, “I’m going to move him to the station for observation.” Iles, Turow, and Lefkon exchanged glances, then Iles said, “Okay. But you stay with him, and you keep the door locked.”

  Levine nodded and said, “I’ll get a wheelchair.”

  In a few minutes, Toby was being wheeled down the hall to the first-aid station. He was feeling much better now; he always recovered quickly from the gum allergy. But he pretended he was still very weak. He felt a jolt of excitement as Levine wheeled him into the little room: the manila envelopes were still in the plastic box on the desk.

  Levine helped Toby onto the cot, then took his pulse and blood pressure, and shone a light into his eyes. He asked a few questions, which Toby avoided answering by pretending to be tired and dazed. After a few minutes, Levine told Toby he’d be outside, and left the room. He closed the door; Toby heard the click of the dead bolt.

  Toby lay on the cot for a minute, then rose, crept to the desk, and looked through the envelopes. One had his name on it. He opened it; inside were his iPhone and his hat. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out the two spare fiber-optic filaments. He uncoiled them and, glancing at the door every few seconds, attached them to the hat, then the iPhone, then the insoles in his shoes.

  He stood up, hoping there was power left in the phone battery. He turned it on; the screen lit up. He pressed the magic-wand icon, then looked down at his legs. They weren’t there.

  Toby’s eyes scanned the room, stopping at a wall-mounted phone. Toby went to it, lifted the handset, unplugged the cord, and tossed the handset under the cot. He turned off the light; the windowless room went dark. He positioned himself on the back wall of the room next to the cot facing the door. He took a deep breath and shouted, “Help!”

  In seconds, Levine unlocked the door and swung it open. His eyes went to the cot, and in the dim light he saw that it was vacant. He stood in the doorway, scanning the small room. He did not see Toby, who stood just five feet away.

  Toby tensed, praying that Levine would now look in the one remaining hiding place—behind the door.

  Levine stepped into the room, swung the door partway closed, and looked behind it. As he did, Toby lunged past him through the doorway, grabbing the door and yanking it closed. Levine shouted as Toby spun and twisted the dead bolt. Levine attempted to turn the knob, but finding it locked, hurled himself against the door. He shouted and pounded.

  Toby looked both ways down the corridor; it was empty. For now, nobody could hear Levine. Toby started running toward the conference room. Behind him, Levine stopped pounding; Toby figured he was now groping for the wall phone in the dark. It would take him a while to find the handset.

  Toby sprinted down the corridor, considering his next move. His goal was to spring Micah and Tamara somehow, get out of this place somehow, get to the Science Fair, and somehow stop whatever was going to happen from happening. It was a lot of somehows. One at a time, he told himself.

  As he approached a corridor intersection he slowed down to soften his footsteps. He turned right into the cross corridor; the conference room door where Tamara and Micah were being held was about twenty-five feet ahead on the left. There was a large man by the door, apparently standing guard. Toby looked past him all the way down the corridor. At the far end glowed a red EXIT sign.

  Toby cupped his hands in front of his mouth and, in his deepest official-announcement voice, said, “ATTENTION ALL PERSONNEL.”

  The guard startled, spun, and looked right at Toby. He frowned, seeing nothing.

  “THIS IS AN EMERGENCY,” said Toby. “WE HAVE…UM…POISON GAS IN THE BUILDING. ALL PERSONNEL WILL PROCEED TO THE NEAREST EXIT IMMEDIATELY.”

  The guard, still frowning, took a few steps toward Toby, his eyes searching the walls and ceiling for the source of the sound.

  “THIS IS NOT A DRILL,” said Toby. “THIS IS REALLY POISONOUS GAS. IT WILL EAT YOUR SKIN AND, UH, EXPLODE YOUR EYEBALLS.”

  Toby backed up quietly as the guard kept coming closer, approaching the corridor intersection. Toby slipped past him and hurried quietly to the conference room door. He carefully unlocked the dead bolt, constantly checking to his left, where the guard, still facing away from him, was searching for the source of the earlier announcement. Toby then quietly turned the knob, opened the door, and stepped inside. Tamara, Micah, and the weird foreign guys were still sitting at the table. All four heads had turned to face the door, which to them appeared to have opened and closed by itself.

  “It’s me,” said Toby, causing everyone at the table to jump.

  “Who said that?” said Micah.

  “It’s me! Toby!” said Toby. “I’m wearing the invisibility iPhone Sternabite made.” He tried to press the invisible iPhone to make himself visible, but in his nervousness he couldn’t find the right place on the screen. Frustrated, he reached across the table, grabbed the lone remaining muffin, and waved it in the air. “See?” he said. “I’m doing this.”

  “Whoa,” said Tamara and Micah together.

  Drmtsi and Vrsk stared at the floating muffin, their faces a mixture of awe and fear. Drmtsi said to Vrsk in Krpsht, “Ask them why this good-tasting bread item is floating in the air and speaking.”

  Vrsk, his eyes still on the muf
fin, said in English, “Why is bread item floating in air and speaking?”

  “It’s our friend,” said Micah.

  “What did boy say?” Drmtsi asked Vrsk.

  “He said the bread item is his friend,” replied Vrsk.

  Vrsk stared at the floating, talking muffin. “The Americans must be giving us drugs,” he said.

  Finally Toby’s fumbling fingers found the right spot on the iPhone screen. In an instant he became visible.

  “Very powerful drugs,” said Drmtsi to Vrsk.

  “How does that—” began Tamara.

  “No time,” interrupted Toby. “Listen, there’s a guard outside, down the hall to the right.” Toby pointed. “I’m going to go out and try to get him around the corner. You peek out the door. As soon as he goes around the corner, you run the opposite way. There’s an exit sign down there. I’ll get past the guard and follow you.”

  “And why are we doing this?” said Tamara.

  “Because we have to get to the science fair,” said Toby. “We have to stop whatever’s gonna happen.”

  “But if we escape,” said Micah, “won’t we get in trouble?”

  “Micah,” said Toby, “we’re terrorism suspects. We’re being held in a secret location. We can’t get in any more trouble.”

  “Oh, you’ll think of something,” said Tamara.

  “Listen,” Toby said angrily, “I came back here to get you. If you don’t want to…”

  “Oh, shut up,” said Tamara. “Of course we’re coming.”

  “We are?” said Micah.

  “Of course, we are,” said Tamara, rising.

  The three friends moved toward the door. Drmtsi said to Vrsk, in Krpsht, “What are these children doing?”

  “I think they are escaping,” said Vrsk.

  “How?” said Drmtsi.

  “They are walking out the door,” said Vrsk.

  “Ah,” said Drmtsi, admiring the cleverness of this plan. He rose and said, “We are escaping also.”

  Toby turned the knob, quietly opened the door, and peered out into the hall. The guard was still at the intersection of the corridors, twenty-five feet to the right. Toby turned to Tamara, put his finger to his lips, then reached down and touched the wand icon on the iPhone.