Samantha Spinner and the Spectacular Specs

by Russell Ginns

  Samantha was determined to get to the park before her brother paid another punishing visit to their neighbor’s house. He always came back in a bad mood.

  “Keep a watch out for any lights or clues,” she said.

  “I’m on it,” said Nipper.

  He began to stare straight ahead toward the end of the block.

  “Distraction prevented,” Samantha said quietly to herself.

  They passed the Snoddgrass lair and reached the mailbox. She pictured the arrow beneath it pointing across the street into Volunteer Park.

  “Follow me and keep looking,” she said, and led Nipper across the street.

  They walked around the water tower and crossed to the front of the art museum.

  “Take your time,” she told him. “Make sure you don’t miss anything.”

  Nipper stood with his hands at his sides and began to turn around slowly.

  “Beep…beep…beep,” he said, imitating radar or some kind of warning device.

  “How is it possible,” she asked, “that you can be annoying in any situation?”

  “Beep…beep…oh, I don’t know, Sam,” he replied. “It just comes natural to me. Beep.”

  “Stop it,” she said. “Right now. No more noises.”

  He stared at her. His lips moved, but he stopped making beeping sounds out loud.

  Samantha waited as Nipper went back to staring and turning. Slowly and silently, he spun all the way around. He looked at the art museum, south toward their house, west over Downtown and to the Olympic Mountains beyond. He finished his 360-degrees rotation, then stared at her.

  “Anything?” she asked.

  He pointed to his mouth. His lips were closed tight.

  “Speak,” she said.

  “Bee-eep…prepared to keep walking,” he said. “There’s nothing secret here.”

  Samantha groaned.

  “You are exceptionally annoying,” she said. “Let’s move on.”

  They walked past the museum and farther north into the park. The sidewalk curved around a field dotted with picnic tables. It continued to the Volunteer Park Conservatory, a two-story, glass-and-iron greenhouse.

  “Beep,” said Nipper.

  “Again?” Samantha asked, irritated. “When you make those sounds you are super-annoy—”

  “Listen, Sam,” he insisted. “Bee-beep-beep. I see—beep. Something yellow—beep. In front of the—beep. Conservatory and—”

  She snatched the glasses from her brother’s face and followed his gaze. To the right of the walkway, a few feet from the glass doors to the greenhouse, a red fire hydrant stood in the grass.

  She put the glasses on. The hydrant glowed yellow. Toward the top, extra-bright yellow letters flashed:

  PSST

  She stared at the hydrant. It was waist high and had a domed cap. A large round outlet on its front faced her. Two smaller outlets stuck out on either side like stubby arms. Short chains connected the pentagon-shaped bolts to the body of the hydrant.

  While Samantha put the glasses in her purse, Nipper pushed past her.

  “I’ve got this,” he said as he reached the hydrant.

  First, he put his hands on the domed cap and tried to twist it. Then he tugged at the chains. Finally, he pulled on the two arms and tried to get the whole hydrant to turn.

  “I can do it, Sam,” he grunted, putting his full weight into it. “I’m sure there’s…a way…to make it…”

  Nipper lost his grip and his footing, falling onto the grass behind the hydrant.

  “Ouch!” he said, looking up at Samantha. “I just fell on my hand lens.”

  “Get up and pass it to me,” she replied. “I want to check the Plans.”

  Samantha unslung the umbrella from her shoulder, raised it above her head, and popped it open. Then she extended a hand to Nipper, who was still lying on the ground. As she waited for the magnifier, she looked past her fingertips at the hydrant. The large bolt on top of the cap caught her attention. She quickly turned and looked at the open umbrella. Then she looked down at the bolt again. Each had eight sides. They were both octagons! It couldn’t be a coincidence.

  Samantha stepped off the path toward the hydrant. Meanwhile, Nipper was running his fingers through the grass.

  “Hey, this is fake,” he said. “It’s artificial turf.”

  Samantha focused on the octagonal bolt. She reached out, grabbed it, and gave it a quick turn. Immediately, she heard a soft click and a loud hiss. The ground shook. She reached out again to steady herself. The lawn surrounding the hydrant, about three feet in all directions, began to drop slowly. They were sinking into the park on a green, ring-shaped platform.

  “Interesting,” said Nipper, standing up quickly.

  Samantha watched the fire hydrant rise above them in the center of the ring as they descended. They dropped below street level and continued downward until, with a gentle bump, they came to a stop. Looking up, she saw the fire hydrant thirty feet above, framed by the sky. Some light trickled down, but not much. Machinery droned softly, and she heard what sounded like sheets of sandpaper rubbing together.

  Something clicked and lights came on.

  They stood in the center of a small room It was about ten feet to the wall all around. The floor beyond the edge of the platform was rotating clockwise.

  The white tile walls surrounding them had four wide rectangular openings, spaced evenly around the chamber. Samantha read a large sign above each one.

  NORWAY

  4,500 MILES

  PERU

  5,000 MILES

  MALI

  6,500 MILES

  INDONESIA

  8,300 MILES

  In the past few months, Samantha and Nipper had done so much traveling on mysterious, barely labeled trains, tubes, and ladders, it felt strange to be in a place with such clear signage.

  Painted on the walls between the openings, Samantha saw:

  SLIDEWALK

  KEEP RIGHT

  “Ever hear of a ‘slidewalk’?” she asked.

  Nipper shook his head.

  They stepped onto the rotating floor.

  “ ‘Slidewalk…slidewalk…slidewalk,’ ” she read, watching the walls go by. “I have a feeling we’re about to find out.”

  As they began their second orbit around the room, they peeked through the entrances and saw that each had two conveyor belts. The one on the right led away. The one on the left led back to the chamber.

  “Okay, Sam,” said Nipper. “Where to?”

  Samantha started to reach for the umbrella on her shoulder, but then stopped. She scanned the signs above each opening again. Then she smiled.

  “A-L-I-M,” she replied. “Unscrambled, that’s…”

  She waited for her brother to answer.

  He stared at her blankly.

  “I-L-A-M backward is…,” she tried again.

  “Mali,” he said.

  “It’s in Africa,” she told him.

  “Oh, yeah. Of course,” he said. “It’s one of the sixteen landlocked African countries.”

  As they stepped through the entrance, Samantha marveled at her brother’s capacity for useless facts.

  Section 03, Detail 3CR3TW

  Fire Hydrants

  There are an estimated 8.9 million fire hydrants in the United States. Each one allows firefighters to tap into the local water system. Users attach hoses to the hydrant, then open a valve to unleash a powerful water flow.

  One of the most common designs is the “dry barrel” hydrant. Turning the bolt on the top opens a valve located far below ground to prevent freezing.

  Most hydrants have pentagon-shaped bolts to keep unauthorized persons from using them. The bolts require special tools, usually a large wrench with a pentagon-shaped soc
ket.

  * * *

  • • •

  Twenty hydrants in the United States do not connect to water. Instead, they are part of the international slidewalk system.

  If you look closely at the top of these hydrants, you will notice that the bolts do not have five sides. Instead, they have eight.

  No special tools are required to activate these hydrants. Simply twist the bolt left or right. The areas around these hydrants are ring-shaped elevators, disguised with artificial turf.

  The green elevator ring will lower you gently to a lobby about thirty feet below street level.

  As they rode the conveyor belt through the Mali entrance, it reminded Samantha of the moving sidewalk they’d ridden in Newark airport about a week earlier. The slidewalk quickly moved, however, into a space unlike anything she had ever seen before.

  A huge room, the size of two football fields laid end to end, stretched out in front of them. The ceiling arched high above, with glowing panels that bathed everything in bright white light. Humming, swishing sounds filled the air. The floor was covered with conveyor belts.

  “Slidewalks?” said Nipper.

  Samantha nodded.

  She quickly counted twenty conveyor belts, all moving at different speeds. The ten belts on the right—including the one they were on—moved away from the entrance. To the left, ten belts moved back toward the ringed platform. Ahead, on the other side of the hangar, the belt on the far right disappeared into a tunnel.

  Samantha looked down at the belt immediately to her right. It was moving faster than the one they were on. She couldn’t be sure how much faster. Then she looked at the far wall. They definitely had to reach the tunnel before they got to the end of the room.

  “Grab my hand and wait until I tell you to go,” she said.

  Samantha knew that, normally, Nipper was not the kind of boy who would want to hold any hands belonging to any of his sisters. But after their climbing, sliding, and tumbling around the world together, she figured he’d join her for a quick synchronized leap onto a moving walkway.

  “One, two, three…go!” she shouted, and they hopped to the right.

  Nipper let go quickly. He looked around. He frowned.

  “See that?” he said, pointing at the surface of the belt.

  There were yellow stripes every few feet, stenciled with black numbers and letters.

  10 MPH

  Samantha could tell Nipper was a little bit disappointed. He clearly thought it was going to be a more exciting ride. She nodded and pointed to her right. She didn’t try to hold his hand a second time.

  “Ready, set…walk,” she said, more calmly this time, and stepped sideways onto the next belt.

  Nipper followed and stepped beside her. They looked down again.

  15 MPH

  The end of the hangar was still far away.

  “Ready, set, walk,” she said quickly, and they stepped again.

  20 MPH

  “Ready, set, walk.”

  25 MPH

  It didn’t feel like they were accelerating quickly. Each new conveyor belt added five miles per hour to their speed. She stopped directing Nipper as they continued walking from belt to belt.

  30 MPH

  35 MPH

  40 MPH

  45 MPH

  Samantha felt a steady breeze through her hair as the slidewalk carried them along. It was a smooth ride.

  They had almost reached the other end of the vast hangar. Ahead, nine of the ten conveyor belts ended at the wall. The tenth slidewalk, to the far right, disappeared into a tunnel. Samantha checked to make sure Nipper was beside her. Together, they stepped to their right, onto the last belt. A minute later, they coasted out of the hangar.

  Samantha’s ears popped as she and Nipper entered the tunnel. The ceiling was just a few feet above their heads, and the brilliant light of the hangar panels had been replaced by rows of green and white lightbulbs that whizzed by. It was still easy to see, but everything had taken on a greenish tint.

  Samantha glanced down, looking for stenciled speed stripes. She didn’t find any. Instead, she noticed that the surface of this belt was different from the others. It was completely covered with small plastic bumps. She figured they were meant to help riders’ feet grip the surface on the fastest belt.

  “Okay, Sam,” Nipper called to her. “We’re on our way.”

  She looked up. He pointed at a sign flashing the words TO MALI. She started to think about the letters A, L, I, and M again. She closed her eyes and tried to think. Were they going to the right place?

  When she opened her eyes, Nipper had his arms out at his sides pretending to surf.

  “Whee!” he shouted. “I’m going to do this all the way to Africa!”

  Samantha began counting to herself. One, two, three…

  Nipper put his arms down. He was bored, of course.

  “So,” he said. “How fast do you think we’re going now?”

  “Well, each belt sped us up five miles per hour,” she replied. “I think we’re moving at about fifty miles per hour.”

  He nodded and started watching the white and green lights flash past them. After a minute, he turned back to her.

  “How long do you think it will take to get to Mali?” he asked.

  Samantha did some math in her head. It was 6,500 miles to Mali. Divided by 50, that was…130 hours. Divided by 24 hours in a day, that made…

  Nipper, waiting, watched her.

  “Five and a half days,” she said, and bit her lip, concerned.

  Nipper stared. He looked around the tunnel and rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

  “We really should have brought lunch,” he said. “And dinner…and breakfast…and lunch…and…”

  It was going to be a very long ride.

  Fish must swim.

  Mosquitos must bite.

  People must pop bubble wrap.

  As Samantha stood on the slidewalk and pondered how long it would take to reach Mali, Nipper noticed the plastic bumps along the belt. He bent down and touched one of the bumps with his finger. It jiggled.

  “Wait!” shouted Samantha. “Don’t touch that. You don’t know what will—”

  Bubble wrap waits for no one.

  He pressed harder on the bubble. It popped.

  With a blast of air and a loud crackle, two giant circles burst from the hole in the belt. They inflated in a fraction of a second and whipped around Nipper, sealing him tightly in an upright position. Instantly, all the green lightbulbs changed to yellow. An alarm began to sound.

  “Nipper!” shouted Samantha.

  He was locked tight between layers of bubble wrap, unable to move. His right hand was pinned a few inches from his head. He wiggled his fingers at her. He had a smile on his face.

  “I’m okay,” he said, his voice muffled by thick layers of bumpy plastic.

  The alarm honked again and again. Samantha thought it sounded like a car alarm, or maybe a dive warning on a submarine.

  She rushed over to Nipper and started tapping on his inflated enclosure.

  “No, Sam,” he shouted. “Pop your own bubble.”

  It was difficult to hear him, and harder still to think over the sound of the alarm.

  The yellow lights turned red.

  Samantha felt the slidewalk starting to accelerate.

  Quickly, she looked down at the belt, chose a nearby bubble, and stomped. It popped, and two clear disks exploded upward. The sheets of industrial-strength packing material closed around her.

  All sound became muffled. Facing forward and locked in place, Samantha looked ahead. She couldn’t turn to see the umbrella or her purse, but she could feel them bubble-wrapped tightly against her. Ahead, Nipper smiled back at her from within his own shell. The green and white stripes moved faster and faster. The
walls of the tunnel became a blur.

  As she raced along, Samantha decided that her weird plastic enclosure was kind of comfortable. The bubble wrap formed an exact mold around her, with practically no pressure anywhere. It was like floating in space. Outside the container, however, the tunnel walls were zooming by at an amazing speed. She had no idea how fast. Were they traveling at a thousand miles per hour? Maybe more?

  Unable to move, Samantha started to think about Uncle Paul again.

  Were they on their way to meet him? Had she been too quick to decide which slidewalk to take? In all the stories he had shared, night after night, she was sure he never said anything about Mali. She racked her brain to remember facts or places he might have mentioned. Nothing. She couldn’t recall anything about Mali’s people or culture. What was the most common language of Mali anyway? Even her brother knew more about the landlocked African nation than she did.

  Samantha felt pressure against her face. The slidewalk was slowing. Ahead of her, Nipper was sinking. Their bubble wrap shells had started to deflate.

  The walls of the tunnel were no longer a blur. The lights passed by more slowly.

  “Ta-da!” Nipper called, and hopped free as his bubble wrap fell to the floor. Samantha’s plastic enclosure dropped away, too. She felt a blast of fresh air as the slidewalk tunnel widened. There were nine conveyor belts to her left.

  Samantha and Nipper began to step from belt to belt, slowing down with each new slidewalk. They had reached the belt labeled 25 MPH when they coasted into a new chamber. Just like before, twenty belts filled the room, but it was much smaller than the vast hangar they’d left behind them in Seattle. The ceiling here was lower, and the far wall wasn’t quite as far. They continued to step and to slow down. When they reached the last belt, Nipper began to skip ahead of Samantha.

  There wasn’t a rotating floor in this slidewalk station. Instead, Samantha spotted a wide circle painted on the floor where the conveyor belts ended. A silver pipe rose from the center.

  Samantha watched Nipper hop to the edge of the conveyor belt. At the same time, she noticed the round elevator platform dropping from the surface above them.