Trapped!: The 2031 Journal of Otis Fitzmorgan

by Bill Doyle

  “Let's start with the one link in the chain that we all witnessed: Our parents being knocked out by the virus.”

  “Why don't we start with the ESCAPE BY A HAIR statue being stolen?” Charlotte asked.

  I thought about it for a second. “I am absolutely certain that I inspected the real statue up on the Terminal. And I watched it being put on the Climber, so it must be somewhere on board. That's one of the links, but I think we need to start with the adults getting sick.”

  “I don't know if I can do that … relive them collapsing like that, I mean,” Lysa said quietly, looking down at her hands.

  “Even if it might help to save them?” Charlotte asked gently. “If we can find the bad guy, maybe he or she will be able to reverse the effects of the virus or at least have an antidote.”

  Lysa wiped the tears away from her eyes. “Okay,” she said, her voice sounding stronger. “I'll do it.”

  Before she could change her mind, I started getting everyone into position. “Let's all stand where we were when the adults collapsed. Charlotte, you and I had just left the elevator. Yves, you were out there with us, too, remember?”

  The three of us went out to the hallway, while Crockett and Lysa stayed in the Common Room.

  “We walked off the elevator … and, Yves, you said…”

  “Hi, how are you?” Yves said with a little sneer.

  “Ah … no,” Charlotte responded. “You said something nasty to Otis about sending you up to your room.”

  “That's right,” I said, trying to keep us on track. “Then you wanted to talk to us some more, but we went past you and into the room. Like this.” I took Charlotte lightly by the arm, and we walked into the Common Room.

  Lysa was seated on the couch. Crockett was standing in the far corner, exactly where he'd been the day before. He said, “Lysa and I were already in here—”

  I said, “My parents stood up and then—”

  “They all fell down!” Lysa cried and put her hands over her eyes as if she were seeing it happen again.

  But Charlotte remained calm. She snapped her fingers as if remembering something. “No,” she said. “Before they collapsed, the elevator stopped on this level again. I heard the door open, and Yves said something.”

  “That's right!” I exclaimed, playing the scene back in my mind. “Yves said, 'What are you doing here?' to someone.”

  “But who?” Crockett asked. “Nobody came into the room.”

  “And we didn't see anyone in the hallway when we left to go down to Level 1,” Charlotte added.

  We all looked at each other with the same question on our faces: Then who was Yves talking to? Could this be the break in the case we were looking for? One way to find out, I thought, and turned to ask him. “Yves?”

  There was no answer. I imagined he might be pouting because things weren't exactly going his way, and I walked out to the hallway.

  It was empty. Yves was gone.

  Followed by Lysa and Crockett, Charlotte came out into the hall. “Where's our self-proclaimed leader?”

  “I was just wondering the same thing,” I said. “It's not safe for anyone to wander off like this.”

  “Maybe he didn't wander away …,” Crockett considered.

  “Maybe he ran because he's the one who did all this,” Lysa added. “I don't know about that,” I said.

  “I agree with Otis,” Charlotte said. “Don't get me wrong. I think Yves is a real snake. But to spread this virus? Something like that would take lots of brains.”

  “I'll find him.” I said and walked down the hallway toward the gym.

  But I didn't have to go that far. Halfway down the hall, Yves had ducked into a small alcove with a drinking fountain. He stood with his back toward me, looking like a student who'd been told to stand in the corner for being bad.

  YVES WAS GESTURING!

  I heard whispering as I got closer. Had Yves gone a little nutty? Was he talking to himself? Then I noticed that his hands were moving as if he were gesturing to someone.

  He turned and I saw that faraway look that new 'quist users have. Yves had a 'quist!

  He finally saw me through all the data that must be streaming before his eyes.

  “Go away!” he cried.

  Suddenly, his eyes started going cloudy. It was the virus!

  “Yves! Disconnect!” I shouted.

  But he scurried out of the alcove and darted past me down the hall toward the Common Room.

  “Yves!” I shouted. “Disconnect! Disconnect now! Every second counts! You could be infecting yourself with the virus!”

  But he wasn't listening to me. He just kept running.

  YVES TRIED TO ESCAPE BY LEAPING OVER A TABLE!

  “He has a 'quist!” I shouted to the others who were still standing near the elevator. They looked up startled as Yves raced into the Common Room, and for a moment, they just stared.

  Then everything was a blur of motion. We all rushed into the Common Room after Yves. We had to catch him and get him to disconnect.

  But Yves's powerful body had made him as fast and agile as a mountain cat. Muscles popping, he leaped over a table. He wasn't going to be easy to nab.

  “Stay away from me!” he shouted.

  The four of us formed a semicircle around him and were backing him and were backing him slowly into a corner.

  I caught Crockett's eye and made a small gesture with my hand. He nodded that he understood. To distract Yves, I started talking. “Manet was the greatest of the Impressionists but often used subject matter that would be considered trite and clichéd by today's art critics.”

  Yves looked at me, confused. “What are you talking—”

  Crockett moved quickly and crouched behind him. Lysa—normally so mousy and quiet—must have found some reserve of strength. She darted in from the side and pushed Yves. He stumbled back over Crockett and sprawled on the floor.

  I dropped on top of him, trying to be as careful as I could. After all, I didn't want to hurt the guy, I was trying to help him.

  I put my knees on either side of Yves's chest to keep him from getting up. By now, Crockett was holding down his struggling legs, and Lysa and Charlotte had each taken one of his flailing arms.

  “Take it easy, Yves,” I told him. “I just need to get the contacts out.” using my thumb and index finger, I pried open one of his eyes. The contact was just starting to cloud over but had not turned black.

  Yves stopped fighting me as I plucked out both contacts, cutting off his connection to the 'quiet. I handed the lenses to Crockett. “I'll put these in solution,” he said.

  When we let go of Yves, he didn't jump up. The energy seemed to have drained out of him. I had to help him up into a sitting position.

  “What were you thinking, Yves?” I demanded. “Why were you using a 'quist. You knew that you would be infected!”

  “I'm different than you…,” he said, his words slurring. “Better than …” Yves slumped back, and I caught him just before his head hit the floor. His eyes were closing.

  “Wait!” Charlotte cried. “He has to tell us who he was talking to yesterday just before the adults collapsed!'”

  She was right. Yves might hold the key to the identity of the bad guy. I gave him a gentle shake. “Yves? You have to stay awake.” But there was no response. I sighed and carefully laid his head back down on the floor.

  “I don't get it” Charlotte said. “If he had a 'quist, why didn't he get infected when the adults did?”

  “He must have had the device turned off so it wouldn't be detected when he passed through customs,” I said as I got to my feet. “It's illegal for him to have a 'quist because he isn't eighteen.”

  “But he's above the law,” Charlotte said sarcastically.

  Lysa added, “But not above getting sick.”

  Crockett had put the contacts in a glass of solution and now knelt on the other side of Yves. He checked his pulse and examined his eyes. Yves groaned and then was quiet again.
/>   “How bad off is he, Crockett?” I asked.

  Crockett looked up at me. “He didn't have the 'quist on long enough to get a full blast of the virus like the adults did. But he

  still got enough of it. He might not be as sick as they are now, but he'll catch up.”

  This might be my last chance. I had to try and get through to him again before he sank into a deep unconscious state. I leaned over him and said loudly, “Yves, who did you see when the elevator stopped right before our parents got sick?”

  CROCKETT HANDED ME THE CONTCTS.

  But he didn't respond. His eyes remained closed.

  “We have to make him comfortable,” Crockett said. “Otis, help me carry him to his room, and I'll start an IV to keep him hydrated.”

  After we got Yves settled, the four of us met back in the Common Room. Once again, we sat around a table, considering what our next plan of action should be.

  “I guess this rules out Yves as a suspect” I said. “After all, he probably wouldn't give himself a deadly virus just to cover his tracks.”

  “Now what?” Charlotte asked.

  A thought occurred to me. “Let me see the contacts.” Crockett handed me the glass. I held one of the contacts up to the light. It was clouded over like a dirty window. “We can use this. It has a microchip in it that will let us plug into his 'quist.”

  “That's crazy!” Crockett cried. “If you hook up to the Net, you'll get infected!”

  “You're right,” I agreed. “We can't use it to connect to the Net. We don't know where the program that turns on the virus is lurking.”

  Lysa threw her hands in the air. “So what's left? Everything's connected to the Net.”

  “Not everything.” I was thinking.” I was thinking about my secure hard drive around my neck. Maybe I'd made a mistake. I was looking for a way that my family's journals could help us, but I shouldn't have been looking for a single thing. Instead, I should have been searching for the one thing they all had in common. A plan began to take shape in my head.

  I told the others what I was thinking.

  “That's about the craziest thing I've ever heard. No one's ever done anything like that,” Crockett said, but I could set the excitement in his eyes.

  Charlotte just grinned. “I'm in,” she said.

  “ Let's do it.” I opened an eye wide and moved the contact closer.

  “No!” Lysa cried.

  I stopped. “Lysa, it's okay. Do you want me to go over the plan again?”

  “I just don't get it!”

  I HOPED I WAS RIGHT!

  We were all gathered on Level 2 next to the fake statue.

  “Okay,” I said. “Here's the plan. Since Yves's contact can still be used, I'm going to wear it so I can connect to his 'quist.”

  “But people use 'quists to connect to the Net, and that's where the virus trigger is!” Lysa paused to bite her thumbnail. “It's too dangerous to go back online.”

  “You're right,” I told her. “But I don't have to. You can also use 'quists to access nearby databases wirelessly.”

  “But how do you Know which one is safe?”

  “There is only one computer database that I know I can trust: my own.” I knew all the journals my family had kept over the years were secure because my hard drive had never been hooked up to the Net.

  “But why do we have to do it in here?” Lysa swept her arms out, indicating the copy of ESCAPE BY A HAIR. I'd turned on the overhead lights, but even they couldn't dispel the gloom. “That statue is so creepy.”

  “Because I can use the 'quist to reprogram the nano-material from the fake statue.”

  “To do what?”

  “Like I said before, I can reshape it into … into …” It sounded too crazy to say it again, and I couldn't finish my sentence. “You'll just have to trust me on that point,” I told her, and put the contact in my eye before I could think about it anymore.

  Instantly, a flickering screen popped up. It was like someone had laid a sheet of clear plastic over half my vision. There was a small blinking target symbol.

  Charlotte asked, “Are you okay?”

  “I think so,” I lifted my hand, and the target symbol whizzed away. “Wow. That was fast.”

  Lysa said, “You must have used Gesture Technology before.”

  “Sure, but never this close up.” The microchip in Yves's contact allowed the use of Gesture Technology in place of a mouse or a keyboard. But normally when you buy a 'quist, there's a two-week training program so you can get used to operating it, kind of like taking driver's ed before you get your license.

  I moved my hand more slowly and sent the target symbol over to the file options. A blinking question mark appeared on the screen.

  WHO ARE YOU? a small voice asked inside my head. This must be Yves's 'quist device.

  I moved my lips silently in response. “Otis.”

  The tiny Voice said, YOU DO NOT HAVE ACCESS PRIVILEGES TO LOCKED FILES, OTIS.

  “I don't want access privileges. This is an emergency. I need help.”

  There was a beep, and then the voice said, EMERGENCY

  PROTOCOL. ESTABLISHING TEMPORARY NEURAL LINK.

  “Wait!”

  YES?

  “Will this harm the owner of the 'quist?”

  FSA SERIES 450 TEST

  Question 905:

  Gesture Technology (GT) turns eye blinks, head movements, finger flicks, or other gestures into computer commands. It's been decades since it replaced the mouse as the way to move things around on a computer screen. But only recently have systems become accurate enough to pick

  up on 99.9 percent of possible gestures. What group of people prompted such huge strides in development?

  A. People with physical challenges that limit their body movements

  Video garners who demand instant responses to keep up with the action

  C. Office managers and others who need to organize data quickly

  B is the answer! Video gaming is one of the most popular forms of entertainment and generates tons of money for new development.

  NO. SHALL I CONTINUE?

  “Fine.”

  NOW CONNECTING, TO THE NET.

  “NO!” I shouted out loud. Beyond the screen, I could see my three friends jump slightly at the sound of my voice.

  I focused again as the tiny voice asked, DO YOU WANT TO CONNECT TO THE NET?

  “No, thank you.”

  WHAT DO YOU WANT TO DO?

  “Connect to a personal hard drive.”

  YOU DO NOT HAVE PRIVILEGES TO CONNECT TO THUNDER LORD'S HARD DRIVE.

  Thunder Lord? That must be what Yves had told his 'quist to call him. Looking at the contact screen was starting to give me a blinding headache. “I don't want that hard drive. I want to connect to a different one. Please show me available drives now.”

  In a flash, several options popped up. It seemed I wasn't the only one with a secure hard drive. I moved my hand and scrolled down to my drive. I tapped my foot twice to access it.

  “Please create a new folder.”

  DONE.

  I searched for one name in each journal from my hard drive and highlighted it. I then dumped the selected information into the new folder.

  “Please identify local nanobots.”

  The screen filled with scrolling information. It was It looking at a list of trillions of tiny hard drives.

  “Group all nanobots into another new folder.”

  DONE.

  Now, I just needed the 'quist to reprogram the nanobots into the shape I wanted. “Please combine the two new folders.”

  ACTION IS NOT PART OF PROGRAMMING. IT MUST BE PERFORMED MANUALLY.

  Manually? It seemed that I would have to reprogram the nanobots all by myself.

  I waved my hands around my head and turned my body as if I were dancing with the data in my hard drive.

  The fake statue began to melt slightly around the edges like an ice-cream cone on a hot day. Then, after a moment, the blob lo
st it liquid appearance and seemed to dry out. Suddenly, particles lifted from the floor as though I had introduced a sandstorm into the room. It whirled around like a mini tornado. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the other kids back off.

  I knew that nanobots could be separated and reshaped into a new nanobot swarm projection. I felt like one of the artists I had studied as I moved my hands to sculpt and shape the swarm. Sweat dripped down my back and flew from my hands as they darted about in the air.

  “Shouldn't we stop him?” I heard Charlotte ask.

  Crockett shook his head.

  “I'm fine,” I wanted to tell her. But I didn't dare say anything that wasn't a direct command to the 'quist.

  THE NANOBOTS SWARMED IN THE AIR LIKE A MINI TORNADO.

  The mini tornado continued to spin, and I thought, I'm losing control!

  I forced myself to focus all my thoughts on the one highlighted name that appeared in all the journals. The swarm of nanobots began to slow and clump together again.

  Out of the whirlwind stepped the figure of a woman. She appeared to be about thirty-five years old. Her blonde hair was pulled back and she wore a simple purple dress.

  Exhausted, I plucked the contact out of my eye and slumped against Crockett.

  “How're you feeling?” he asked. I just nodded, unable to take my eyes off the woman

  “Who is she?” Charlotte breathed.

  But I already knew the answer.

  MY IDEA WORKED! JUDGE PINKERTON WAS ALIVE AGAIN!

  JANUARY 4, 2031

  Day 4 of 6 11:20 AM

  I Spent last night sitting in the hard- backed chair between my parents' beds. Teddy slept on my lap, but I was only able to doze for a few minutes at a time. My head was too jammed with different ideas and theories about how to solve this strange mystery.

  As I constantly checked to make sure that Mom and Dad's breathing hadn't changed, I felt more and more helpless. Cracking the case would be the best way I could help my parents.

  But I don't think I would have been able to sleep anyway. After all, I'd never brought someone “back from the dead” like I had with Judge 'Pinkerton. I know that according to current definitions, Judge doesn't qualify as a true human being because she's composed of trillions and trillions of nanobots.