Trapped!: The 2031 Journal of Otis Fitzmorgan

by Bill Doyle

  But she is alive.

  And because Judge is a physical combination of all that my ancestors wrote about her, she has all the great qualities, smart, and experiences listed in their different journals.

  I was anxious to get cracking on the case with her, but I'd had to wait. When Judge appeared last night, she'd been as glamorous-looking as all my ancestors had said. She seemed even taller than her six feet, thanks to her straight back, upswept hairstyle, and purple heels. But she'd seemed a little shaky and had stuck out a hand to brace herself against the nearest wall.

  “What's wrong with her?” I asked Crockett as we both rushed to her side.

  “Once again,” Crockett said, “this is brand-new territory. Not just for me but for anyone. I've never had a patient who was composed of trillions of nanobots.”

  “It's okay,” Judge said. She regained her balance and stifled a yawn. “I think my system just needs some time to …”

  “Reboot?”

  “Exactly,” she said with a smile. “I need to sleep for a while.” She looked at me and did a double take. “You're a Fitzmorgan, aren't you?” Her eyes sparkled happily.

  “Yes,” I said. “But we can tall: more in the morning.”

  We took Judge up to the Common Room, where she could lie down on a couch. We gently covered her with a blanket and, within moments, she was breathing softly. She had drifted off to sleep.

  That had been seven hours ago, and I was getting more and more anxious.

  I was just getting up to go check on her when the intercom near the door buzzed softly. I walked over and spoke into it. “Yes?”

  “You might want to come down here.” It was Crockett.

  “What's up?”

  “Ms. Pinkerton is awake.” Crockett was the only kid without a parent along, so he had volunteered to bunk in the Common Room and keep an eye on Judge.

  “I'll be right there!” I told him and hung up.

  I placed Teddy on my chair.

  “I want you to watch Mom and Dad, Teddy.” He cocked his head. “And come and find me me if something happens. Okay?”

  His bio-real brown eyes blinked at me twice.

  “Good boy,” I told him and rushed out of the room.

  When I entered the Common Room, Judge was standing in front of the window. She had pulled her hair back into a loose French twist.

  As if sensing I was there, she turned toward me, her expression still pensive as if she'd been considering something as she gazed outside. In a flash, her face lit up with a smile, and she walked quickly over to me.

  I had a sense of déjà vu, even though I had only read about her in journals. I couldn't help but stare.

  “Good morning,” she said. “You must be Otis. I feel ice I know you so well.”

  Of course she did. My own old journals were now part of her memory.

  Judge grinned at me. “You look like you've seen a ghost.” She laughed and tousled my hair. “Come on, let's sit down. Your friend Crockett has opened a packet of strawberry Danish. I imagine if you're anything like your relatives, you'll want one to get your brain in gear.”

  Crockett was already at the table, smiling at me through a mouthful of crumbs. He shrugged, as if to say, “Can you believe it?”

  Judge waited until we were seated and I had started to devour a pastry. Then she asked, “Feeling better?”

  “Yes, thanks,” I answered. “But how about you? How do you feel?”

  “Actually, I feel terrific.”

  “I mean, do you feel like yourself?”

  She shrugged. “I don't think anyone can answer that. I feel like the me that I am now.”

  “Did Crockett tell you what's going on?”

  “A little bit,” Crockett said before she could respond.

  I looked at her. “Can you help us… Judge?”

  She reached out and put her hand over mine. “Nothing would make me happier. What else can you tell me about our situation?”

  In careful detail, I brought her up to speed. Just as I was finishing, Lysa and Charlotte walked into the room. Lysa hesitated near the door when she saw Judge sitting with us.

  “She's awake?” Lysa asked me as if Judge weren't there.

  “Yes,” Judge said, with a twinkle in her eye. “She is awake.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Charlotte said and held out her hand.

  “You used to train private investigators?” Lysa asked, a little suspiciously.

  Before I could defend her, Judge said with a disarming smile, “That's right.”

  “There's nothing wrong with private investigators,” Charlotte said.

  “I didn't say there was,” Lysa responded defensively. “I was just thinking it's a shame. I wish that we had been trained before all this. It might have been helpful now.”

  “I wouldn't be surprised if there was someone here who had been working on his detective skills,” Charlotte said, and winked at me when no one was looking.

  “How's the boy with the 'quist doing?” Judge asked, changing the subject.

  “Yves is resting,” Crockett said. “But he's growing worse. He's getting sicker quickly now, as if his body is in a race to get just as sick as the adults are. We've got to find a way to slow down the virus or kill it!”

  “Which brings us back to the case,” I said. “Maybe we should look harder at why ESCAPE BY A HAIR was stolen and a fake statue left in its place.”

  “Okay,” Judge said, and I could see her mentally changing gears. “Why would someone go to all this trouble in order to get his or her hands on the real statue?”

  “Well, it's very valuable, isn't it?” Lysa suggested.

  “But the nanobots in me are even more valuable,” Judge reminded us. “If they wanted the statue that badly, they could have saved the money they spent on the nanobots and just bid on the statue at the auction.”

  “I think I might know why they didn't do that,” I said. “Stealing the statue was a sure way to get their hands on it. An auction wouldn't be as predictable.”

  Judge considered this. “How do we even know the real statue is on board?”

  The memory of the 'bots moving it through the door of the Climber played in my mind. “I watched the real statue being loaded; onto the Elevator, I said. “I'm positive it's here somewhere.”

  “But the statue is enormous,” Judge considered. “Where would you hide something that large?”

  Then we both looked at each other as if the same thought had hit us at the same time.

  “Exactly,” I said. Judge and I got up from the table together. “Come on,” I said to the others.

  “Where are we going?” Crockett asked.

  “Down to Level 1. But first I have to stop by my room.”

  Once again, we squeezed through the crack in the doorway to the Control Room on Level 1. I took a seat in the Controller's chair, and the others gathered behind me.

  “See this?” I pointed to one of the screens with various graphs and changing numbers. “This is part of the water, air, and heating systems. If these systems went offline, we wouldn't be able to survive. All right?”

  They nodded, and Judge indicated I should continue.

  “Well, the computer has a way of figuring out how much weight is on the Climber so it can calculate how much oxygen and energy we'll need for our trip.”

  “Okay,” Charlotte said. “Is this going to start making sense soon?”

  “Look at this.” I pointed at the condition report I had written for ESCAPE BY A HAIR, which I'd stopped to pike up from my room.

  “See how much the statue weighs?”

  “Yes, we see,” Charlotte said, sounding impatient.

  “Now look at this,” I said, pointing at the master report I had made. “This is how much the cargo that was loaded onto Level 5 weighs.”

  “But the numbers don't match up,” Crockett said.

  A light went on in Charlotte's eyes. “There's 650 extra pounds in the storage area!”

  “That woul
d seem to indicate that the real statue is in the storage area on Level 5. The bad guy must have hidden it there while we were still at the Elevator terminal but after I stamped it”.

  Judge clapped me on the back. “Bully for you, Otis! But why would someone hide it there? There's no way to access that level from inside the Elevator.”

  “I don't know,” I said, turning the Controller's chair so that I was facing them. “But I do know we're running out of time. We're going to be on Earth in just two days.”

  “What about surveillance cameras?” Charlotte asked. “Can't you take a peek at Level 5 with one of those?”

  “All the cameras were knocked out with the communications system. There's no way to check remotely. And since we can't get to Level 5 from inside, it looks like we won't know for sure until we get to Earth.”

  Crockett leaned against the airlock and tapped a finger against his lips. “I have a problem with this,” he told us. “You said the bad guy must be on the climber because he destroyed our communications system, right?”

  I nodded. “That's right.”

  “Then why put the statue where he or she can't get at it?”

  “I don't know,” I replied. “But that leads to the same old question: Where is the bad guy hiding? I mean, assuming it's not one of us.” The last part was a little joke, but no one laughed.

  “I have an idea!” Lysa held up her hand like she was in class. “Is there a way to check and compare the weight of the other four levels?”

  I shook my head. “Good idea, but no. We only kept exact records of the weight for Level 5. That's where the FSA stores samples they collect from space. So they want to know exactly how much cargo is there at all times. The computer just estimates the weight for the other levels and rounds up to the nearest 100 pounds.”

  Crockett seemed lost in thought. “So there's no way to prove that someone else is even on the Elevator?”

  “Maybe there is,” I said. “We can look for the bad guy's DNA!”

  “How on Earth—or Elevator—can we do that?” Charlotte asked.

  “My microprobe recognizes my DNA,” I explained. “I can program it to recognize other people's DNA, as well. All I have to do is take a sample from everyone on board. Then I can run a scan level by level and see if there is any DNA that we can't account for. When we find that DNA, we might find our bad guy!”

  Lysa's brow furrowed. “I don't get it.”

  “Think about it like this,” I said. “What if I were to take everyone's fingerprints? We could look around to see if there were prints that didn't match any of ours. If we found any, they might belong to the bad guy. Well, DNA is kind of like a fingerprint. If we find some unidentified DNA, we'll Know that someone else is on the climber. Get it?”

  LYSA STUCK OUT HER ARM FOR A DNA READING.

  Lysa nodded.

  I removed my probe and got to work reprogramming it. Within a few minutes, I had set it up to accept more than just my DNA signature. There was enough room on the microprobe to record the DNA of hundreds of people

  “Stick out your arm,” I said to Lysa.

  She held it out, and I placed the probe on her skin. Immediately, a chime let me know her DNA had been recorded in the probe. I labeled it with her name.

  “Now every time my probe finds your DNA, it will say your name. See?” I touched the probe to her skin again, and a woman's voice said: LYSA A. BENATO.

  I moved on to the other kids in the room and recorded their DNA. At this point, I wasn't analyzing anyone's DNA, just collecting it.

  “What about her?” Lysa said when I was done, eyeing judge suspiciously.

  What does she have against Judge? I wondered. Did it bother her that Judge wasn't human?

  “I skipped judge for two reasons,” I told Lysa. “First of all, she doesn't have DNA, and second, she wasn't even around when the communications system was destroyed.”

  That seemed to satisfy Lysa. I asked everyone but crockett to go back to the Common Room and wait while we collected the DNA. I knew Charlotte and Lysa would be safe with Judge.

  For the next hour, crockett and I went from room to room on Level 4. We took the DNA of all the adults. The last person wt had to get it from was Yves. His face, no longer set in a sneer, seemed to have changed. He looked almost angelic.

  I was thinking about this when Crockett gave me a nudge. “All set?”

  I nodded, and we left Yves's room to begin our starch for the DNA of a criminal.

  JUDGE WAS SITTING WITH CHARLOTTE AND LYSA.

  JANUARY 4, 2031

  Day 4 of 6 5:20 PM

  A half hour later, Crockett and I walked into the Common Room. Judge, Lysa, and Charlotte were sitting around a table discussing the case.

  Judge was absentmindedly sketching something on a piece of paper. I heard her say, “That's one idea, Lysa. I just don't know if the criminal is an alien—” She broke off when she saw us enter. “How'd it go?” she asked eagerly.

  Crockett and I looked at each other. How could we begin to tell what we had discovered?

  Charlotte stood and rushed over to us. “Come on! Spill! What'd you find?”

  “You'd better sit down,” I told her.

  “You're scaring me,” she said, taking her seat again. “What happened?”

  I took a deep breath before speaking. “Crockett and I went to my room first. I thought if we were going to go around invading people's property, we should start with my room. We went to my closet and ran the DNA probe over my clothes. It said my name constantly. Then I ran it over my FSA uniform, the one I was wearing when I first met you. So I wasn't surprised when my probe said your DNA was on the jacket. But I was surprised by who else's DNA was there, as well. In the exact same spot.”

  “Whose was it?” Charlotte asked.

  “Can I show you?” I asked her.

  She nodded. I placed the probe on her arm. The probe chimed and then said, CHARLOTTE NOONAN. It chimed twice more and recited two more names: LYSK A. BENATO MAXINE BENATO.

  “What?” Lysa was on her feet. “Why did it say Mom's and my names? And how did our DNA get on your jacket?”

  “That's just it,” I answered. “Neither of you touched my jacket. But you didn't have to in order for your DNA to be on it.”

  “You're not making sense!” Lysa cried.

  SIMPLE CLONE TESTING

  So, you're going to the pet store to pick up Rover, but you want to know whether or not you're getting a clone. Just remember BONE and use the following checklist

  Bothered? Do you care if you have a clone? If not, skip the rest of the list. After all, clones deserve the same love and care as other creatures.

  One of a kind? Clones are like identical twins. Do all puppies in the litter have the exact same marking?

  Need proof? A clone only needs one parent—so if the dog's papers list a mother and a father, you don't have a clone.

  Extract DNA? Get a sample of the puppy's and the parent's DNA for testing. If the samples are identical you've got clone.

  “Yes, he is, charlotte said. “He's saying that we all have the same DNA”.

  Lysa swallowed. “But that would only be possible if we were…”

  “lf we were clones”, said charlotte, getting up again.

  I'd hated springing it on Charlotte like that, but I'd needed to see her reaction. Would she be surprised? Or would she angrily deny it?

  But instead, charlotte just seemed numb. Not Lysa, though. She shouted, “Just because we look alike doesn't mean we're clones! If we were, wouldn't we be identical?”

  “Not necessarily,” I said “clones share the same DNA, but environmental things—like what you eat and where you live—can change your appearance.” Lysa shook her head, not wanting to hear any more. But I had to keep going. “Lysa, your mom is decades older, so she's going to look different than you two.” Then, looking at Charlotte's blonde locks, I added, “And one of you has been coloring her hair.”

  Charlotte took a moment to speak. “A
m I a suspect?” she asked quietly.

  “We're all suspects,” I told her.

  I think my gentle tone actually made things worse. She seemed to take it as a sign of pity or something. “But I think I might have moved closer to the top of the list,” she snapped. guess you might feel safer if I stayed in my room.”

  I couldn't argue with her. “Just for now, until we can get the situation straightened out. You, too, Lysa.”

  Charlotte grimaced as if she had tasted something awful. But she nodded and left. Lysa followed her out.

  LYSA AND CHARLOTTE WERE SHOCKED AND ANGRY.

  “I'll make sure they get back to their rooms,” Crockett said.

  I slumped into the chair where Charlotte had been sitting. Feeling frazzled, I squeezed my eyes shut and put my head in my hands. I felt Judge's hand on my shoulder. She said sympathetically, “I'm not sure if anyone could have handled that better.”

  With my head still down, I opened my eyes and found myself looking directly at the drawing Judge had been working on when I came in earlier.

  The sketch showed men in old-fashioned suits helping a little girl with black hair off a train. The girl looked to be about six years old—and exactly like a younger version of Lysa Benato. In the background of the drawing, I could make out a city that looked like it might be San Francisco. It was in flames.

  JUDGE'S SKETCH

  “What's this?” I said, tapping the paper.

  “Oh, that? Just a memory I had,” judge said. “It came to me while I was talking to Charlotte and Lysa. I thought maybe it was because you remind me of your ancestor Fitz.”

  “You mean my great-great-great-great-grandmother?” I couldn't help but laugh with the last “great.”

  “You remind me a lot of her,” she said. “And that's quite a compliment.”

  “Thanks, judge.” For some reason, I couldn't take my eyes off the drawing.