by Matt London
“We’re fine,” Rick said, unable to help but smile at the silly robot. “We’re just glad you’re okay.”
“If there is anything I can do to make it up to you, I will. Both of you will receive extra scoops of ice cream every dessert for a week.”
“How about for a year?” Evie fanned herself with her hand for effect. “I’m a little traumatized over here.”
“I will make it a month,” 2-Tor said. “But do not push it, young lady.”
Rick rose to his feet and helped 2-Tor up. “As much as I love ice cream, we need to figure out what to do next.”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Evie replied. “Look at our GPS. We’re only about fifty miles from the coordinates you found at Winterpole HQ. We should fly there right away.”
Rick took a glance for himself, then agreed. “You’re right. We should go find the seastead, but how about we stay in the water? I’ve had enough air travel for a while.”
“It’s a deal,” Evie said, pushing the lever to increase the throttle. The hover engines spat bubbles, and the Roost cut through the water like a snorkel.
Besides the low rumble of the engines, the trip was peaceful. It felt good to have some quiet after the intense landing. 2-Tor kept to himself, standing half in and half out of the cockpit, almost as if he was ashamed to be in the same room as Rick and Evie. Rick felt bad. He didn’t want a depressed robot on this trip. It wasn’t even 2-Tor’s fault. Like everything else, the problems went back to Winterpole.
Evie distracted him from his brooding. “The coordinates are pretty close to the North Pole.”
“I guess they are,” Rick agreed, sitting forward in the pilot’s chair.
“Do you think Doctor Grant lives at the North Pole?”
“I don’t think so.”
“What if Doctor Grant is Santa Claus?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“What if he is, though?”
“He’s not.”
“I’m not saying he is. I’m saying what if he is.”
“Evie! Dad’s old teacher is not Santa Claus.”
His sister rolled her eyes. “Sheesh. What a grinch.”
They drove into a chain of icebergs, which dotted the water like the little bars of soap Mom used to throw into Rick’s baths. He knew from his reading that some icebergs were more than a hundred meters tall, although most of their mass was hidden under the water.
“Look at that!” Evie said, pointing at two large blobs on the GPS. “There are whales swimming alongside the Roost. AWWOOOOOOOOOH!”
“What’s that?” Rick asked. “Your whale call?”
Evie ignored the jab. “I sing to thee, gentle giants of the ocean. AWWOOOOOOOOOH!!!!!”
“You sound like a wolf.”
“AWWOOOOOOOOOH!!!” She howled in his face. “It’s a whale. Rick, you better clean the blubber out of your ears. That sounds nothing like a wolf.”
“Children . . .” There were long pauses between 2-Tor’s quiet words. “My sensors indicate that we are directly on top of the coordinates of Doctor Grant’s seastead. I’m not sure if you can trust my sensors after the terrible thing that I did, but that is what they say.”
“It’s all right, 2-Tor,” Rick assured the robot. “The GPS says the same thing.”
“So where is it?” Evie asked, peering out the windows. “What are we looking for?”
When Rick closed his eyes, he could see Doctor Grant’s incredible invention. A seastead—an artificial island capable of housing hundreds if not thousands of people. It would look a little like an oil rig, but much bigger, and more beautiful. From above, it would resemble the most tranquil homestead imaginable. Happy families would toss Frisbees and walk their dogs. Teachers would hold classes in outdoor gazebos, where kids could run and play between lessons. Maybe there would even be an aviary to house all the birds that wanted to visit. It would be heaven—a perfect place where Rick could read books and play video games and no one would bother him, where he could continue the mission of Lane Industries to develop cutting-edge technologies.
“No sign of anything anywhere,” Evie said for the eightieth time. Doctor Grant’s seastead would only be heaven if they could find it. . . .
“I don’t understand.” Rick furrowed his brow. “We detected those whales on the GPS, and there are icebergs everywhere. Why hasn’t the seastead appeared on our scanners?”
“I’m checking them.” Evie adjusted the dials, focusing the three-dimensional map the Roost had charted of the area. “But I don’t see anything.”
Rick moved his eyes close to the GPS screen, peering over the graphics for any hint of the seastead’s location. The giant structure should have been easy to spot.
For over an hour they drifted in circles, looking behind icebergs in search of Doctor Grant’s elusive ocean hideout. Rick was tired, Evie was bored, and they both really could have gone for a chicken sandwich.
“It’s no use!” Evie banged her fist on the console. “There’s nothing up here.”
“Wait a minute!” Rick grabbed the GPS screen and pulled his face closer to it. “Straight ahead. What’s that?”
Evie peered out the windshield. “I don’t know. It’s bright. Something reflective.”
“Is it some kind of hovercraft?” Rick asked.
“I can’t be sure from here,” Evie said. “Let’s get a closer look.”
“Wait! It might be dangerous,” Rick cautioned.
“Only one way to find out!” Evie grinned, pushing the Roost forward.
Ahead in the windshield, Rick watched as the bright reflective light took shape. It was a flat raft of what looked like plastic bottles, bound together with hundreds of tight rubber bands.
“Come on!” Evie said, jumping out of her seat. “Let’s go check it out.”
Rick raced her through the Roost. They emerged from a knot large enough for them to stand in and crept onto one of the longer branches overlooking the plastic bottle raft. There was a bunch of junk at the bottom of the raft—cooking gear, a small stove, a broken radio, a big bundle of rags, and a small pile of fish bones.
Asleep on the edge of the raft was a long, thin cat with reddish-brown fur and black stripes. It looked a little bit like a tiger.
“It’s just a cat,” Evie said.
“Rrrrowa!” said the tiger cat.
The pile of rags shook. “Quiet, Niels Bohr! Quiet, I say!”
The tiger cat hissed, then padded in a circle around the bobbing raft. Rick watched in disbelief as the pile of rags fell apart, revealing an old man in huge bug-eyed sunglasses.
“Excuse me, sir!” Rick called out to him. He waved, but the man seemed uninterested in the two children on the seafaring tree. “I’m looking for a seastead that’s supposed to be around here. It should look a little bit like an oil rig, but with houses and stuff on it. Have you seen anything like that?”
The old man snorted. “Seen? Nope! I haven’t seen anything. You see, I’m blind! But as for the seastead, you’re looking at it. Welcome! You’ve arrived!”
2-Tor pushed his way through the knot and sidled onto the branch. He dug his talons into the wood to keep from falling off. “I say! What’s going on here?”
Rick could not understand what the old blind man was talking about. How could this ugly recycled raft be the seastead? The seastead was supposed to be a palace on the waves, a worthy home for someone of Doctor Grant’s genius.
He called out to the old man, “I don’t understand. Where’s Doctor Grant?”
“You’re looking at him!” the old blind man said. “Assuming you’re not blind too. And if I could see, I would be looking at Richard and Evelyn Lane.”
Rick exchanged a glance with Evie, who appeared equally surprised. “I’m not sure which is more confusing,” she began in what for her was a tentative tone, “that you are
Doctor Grant, or that you know who we are.”
Doctor Grant cackled. “You mean I was right? Stupendous!”
Evie squinted like she was trying to read fine print. “Did our dad tell you we were coming?”
“No, I have not spoken to your father in well over a decade, but I would recognize the sound of a robo-voci speech box anywhere. Only George Lane could fine-tune such a brilliant invention.”
2-Tor sounded startled. “You mean me, sir?”
“Yes, yes!” Doctor Grant said, moving his head around as if trying to find where 2-Tor was standing above him. “You sound like a marvelous creation.”
“Why, sir, my coils are blushing. No one has ever said that about me before.”
Doctor Grant slapped his knee and laughed. “This is too much. So where is the old circuit dealer?”
“You mean our dad?” Evie asked. “He’s in trouble. That’s why we came. Doctor Grant, we need your help.”
The blind doctor called them down from the Roost. The water was too unstable to use the ship’s exit ramp, so Rick fetched a grappling hook. 2-Tor stayed on the branch overlooking the raft, while Rick and Evie climbed down the grappling hook’s rope and settled on Doctor Grant’s water bottle abode. It was no larger than a king-sized bed.
“I still don’t understand how this can be the seastead,” Rick said. “I expected something so much bigger.”
Doctor Grant scowled. “So did I! But then Winterpole and Mastercorp and a hundred other pests started sticking their noses into my business. I couldn’t have them spotting my hideout from a reconnaissance hovership, could I? For now, this is the best I can do. So I continue my experiments in private. Away from Winterpole. Away from Mastercorp. I like it. It’s peaceful. Just me and Niels Bohr.”
“Niels Bohr?” Rick asked. “The Danish physicist? But he’s been dead for decades.”
“No! How can that be? Niels Bohr! Where are you?” Doctor Grant started to cry. “I just fed him an hour ago. The most delicious char. Poor Niels Bohr.”
“Mrrrowl!” said the tiger cat, pouncing into Doctor Grant’s lap.
The doctor clutched the cat gratefully. “Oh, Niels Bohr! There you are. Thank goodness you’re alive. I thought I’d lost you forever, you silly kitty.”
Evie couldn’t stop laughing. Her face turned purple. “Hahaha heehoohoo. Ha ha. Rick, you’re such a doof. He named the cat Niels Bohr. Ha ha ha. I can’t breathe.”
Rick scowled. “Laugh it up, Evie. Go on. Get it out.”
“You told him his cat was dead. He was so upset. Ha ha ha ha ha.”
Rick looked at Doctor Grant, who was giving Niels Bohr Eskimo kisses. “I’m sorry I told you your cat was dead, Doctor Grant. I was confused.”
“It’s all right,” Doctor Grant said while the cat licked his face. “As long as my tiger is all right.”
“Why did you name the cat Niels Bohr, anyway?”
“Kitty litter. That’s all I’ll say. So, children, what has brought you all the way out here? And how can this old wayward scientist be of service to you?”
Evie and Rick told him everything—about their trip to see the garbage patch, about what Winterpole had done to their father and how they’d tried to free him, about their escape from Winterpole Headquarters, and all the way up to their death-defying trip across the ocean to find the seastead.
When they finished their tale, Doctor Grant sat back and scratched his chin as their father often did. After a ponderous silence, he said, “I think I see, no pun intended. Winterpole is persecuting your father. He needs a safe haven. You want to terraform the Great Pacific Garbage Patch into an eighth continent. There, Winterpole will have no jurisdiction. You will be free. I have just one question. What does any of this have to do with me?”
Rick pulled his portable hard drive out of his pocket. “You can’t see it, but I’m holding a special item in my hand. It’s my father’s half of the Eden Compound. We need your half to complete the formula.”
“Oh!” Doctor Grant said. “Well, why didn’t you say so? I could have saved us all a lot of time and trouble. The answer is no. I will not give you my half of the formula.”
EVIE THOUGHT THAT SHE MIGHT NEED A Q-TIP THE SIZE OF A CANOE OAR TO CLEAN OUT HER EARS. Had she heard the old scientist correctly? Had he really just said that he wouldn’t help them?
“Doctor Grant, using the Eden Compound is really important to my family. Dad needs a safe place to do his experiments. We need to get away from our rotten classmates.”
“Those are selfish reasons. Your father doesn’t need a new lab. He needs to stop stealing birds from wilderness preserves.”
His words burned deep. That label was unfair. Her father had been trying to save that bird, not steal it. Now he would be labeled as a criminal forever, and it was all Winterpole’s fault.
Pushing the thought from her mind, Evie leaned forward. “You could live with us on the eighth continent. It will be warm and peaceful. There will be lots of space where Niels Bohr can play. You will have your own lab, where you can work on building a real seastead, or any experiment you wish.”
“That sounds lovely,” Doctor Grant said.
Hope filled Evie’s chest like fluffy clouds. “Doesn’t it?”
“Yes. I’m eager to see how you make your continent without the Eden Compound.”
“But that’s impossible!”
“Not my problem!” Doctor Grant hissed. “Did you ever think to ask why I am so opposed to this? The Eden Compound doesn’t just transform garbage. It converts all forms of inorganic matter. You want to know why Mastercorp funded our project? You think it was because of their concern for the environment? They wanted to use it as a weapon. Imagine if the Eden Compound was sprayed over a city. Every building destroyed. Millions killed. Mass hysteria. In the wrong hands, the Eden Compound could send humankind back to the Stone Age!”
Annoyance crept into Evie’s voice. “We’ve heard all this before, Doctor Grant.”
“Then you should know my answer!”
Evie saw her future slipping away. She needed Doctor Grant. Without him there would be no Eden Compound and no eighth continent. She understood what he was trying to say. The risks involved in using the Eden Compound were high. For years Doctor Grant had protected the secrets of the formula from Mastercorp and Winterpole, but there were so many reasons to make a new continent free from outside intrusion. She didn’t want it just for her family, but for everyone in the world.
When Evie next spoke, she was surprised by the quaver in her voice. “Doctor Grant, don’t you see? The power of the Eden Compound is the reason we have to be the ones to use it. You and my father invented it so that you could get rid of all the trash that is choking this planet. Your intentions were noble. We want to continue your mission now. Have you seen the Great Pacific Garbage Patch, Doctor Grant? It’s bigger than any living organism, a swirling mass of plastic bags and bottles and filth. The fish die. The birds starve. The patch is killing huge communities of plankton—you know, the little sea creatures that make the ecosystem work. We want to destroy that mess, Doctor, and replace it with a continent of nature and beauty, something that the entire world can enjoy. We don’t want the Eden Compound to fall into the wrong hands any more than you do. If you help us make the eighth continent, when we’re done we can erase the formula together, so that it can never be used as a weapon, like you fear it will be. Please, Doctor Grant. Help us. Help us save the world.”
The old doctor listened to her speech in silence, nodding occasionally and stroking Niels Bohr under his chin. At last Evie finished, breathlessly, and sat down on the raft. She shivered in the freezing air.
Doctor Grant slapped his thighs, startling Niels Bohr. “Well, when you put it that way, my dear. All right. I’m in.” He snapped at Rick. “Pay attention to your sister, my boy. She is very intelligent. You could learn a thing or six from h
er.”
The look on Rick’s face was worth all the trouble they had been through to get here.
“Sweet!” Evie cheered in relief. “So, what do we do next? Where is your half of the formula?”
“The formula?” Doctor Grant repeated. “Oh, right. I forgot. I don’t have it!”
“What?!” Evie buried her face in her hands. After all this, they still didn’t have the Eden Compound.
“However,” the doctor said, “I know where it is.”
“That’s great,” Rick said. “Which way do we need to go?”
Doctor Grant showed his crooked teeth in a big grin. He pointed straight down at the ocean.
IN THE DEEP DARKNESS OF THE SEA, RICK TRIED NOT TO PANIC. HE SWAM CLOSE BEHIND EVIE AND Doctor Grant, watching their flippers alternate up and down. He hoped it wouldn’t be much farther. His legs were starting to cramp.
Although the Roost’s storage hold contained scuba gear in twelve sizes, he’d never tried any of the equipment on. He knew that scuba was an acronym for “self-contained underwater breathing apparatus,” but that’s about all that he knew about the device. Being underwater, with fish swimming past his head and the pressure of the ocean pushing against his ribs, it took time for him to remember to breathe. His innate reaction was to hold his breath, and so until he ran out of air he would hold it, even though his respirator was snug in his mouth. With each wheezy gasp, he made a mental note to try to breathe normally, but the strange surroundings and the fear of drowning kept making him forget.
In most of the video games Rick played, the depths of the ocean were home to killer sharks, giant squids, electric eels, flesh-eating piranhas, poisonous jellyfish, and starfish. (Obviously starfish did not sound as dangerous as the other creatures on his list, but he refused to trust anything that had no head.) Rick feared all of these sea monsters. He had seen no evidence that a wetsuit and scuba tank would keep him safe, but he had plenty of evidence that staying on dry land would.
