by Dan Elish
“A robot?” he said.
“You built him?” Cynthia asked.
Billy shrugged. “Harrison is nothing. Only took me a few months to design.”
A laptop computer walked into the kitchen area on a pair of stilts. With a sharp brrring! its top opened and hands sprang out of its sides. With another brrring! a side panel opened from the wall, revealing a small kitchen complete with stove, oven, and refrigerator. Quick as lightning, the laptop began to prepare lunch.
“Meet my Cook-Top computer,” Billy said. Gone was the frightening man with the whip. Now that he was showing off his inventions, Billy’s whole being took on a glow. He bounced from foot to foot like a little kid in a toy store. “I programmed him with every recipe known to man, from the ancient Greeks onward. He can make macaroni that tastes like mint-chip ice cream. His steak is so good, you’ll think you’re eating the world’s most delicious peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He’s the best chef in the world, and he cooks for me every night. Get a load of this!”
Billy took a remote out of his pocket and pressed a button. From a host of unseen speakers, lively music filled the room.
“What?” Harkin asked. “A new sound system?”
“Much more than that, my dear Thunk,” Billy said.
He pressed another button on his remote. A corner door burst open and two laptops, also on stilts, barreled inside and ran to the center of the room. There they stopped, and arms shot out from their sides. The laptops exchanged a bow and proceeded to waltz around the room.
“Say hello to my Dance-Tops,” Billy said. “The world’s first computer that can help you type a document, then teach you how to rumba.” He turned to the two computers, whirling around the room in perfect time to the music. “That’s right,” Billy called to them. “One, two, three! One, two, three! Next week I’ll program you to fox-trot.”
“Do they sing too?” Cynthia asked.
“Not these,” Billy said. “Let me show you my Opera-Tops.”
With the click of another button, two more laptops—these were larger—strutted into the room. At the count of three, their monitors began to blink and they launched into a stirring duet from La Traviata.
“Beautiful, no?” Billy asked. “But that’s not all.”
It seemed that Billy had invented computers that could do anything. There was the Verse-Top, a computer programmed to turn any thought into an epic work of poetry worthy of Shakespeare or Keats. There was the Roller-Top, a laptop computer that could execute perfect triple-axel spins on roller skates. The list went on and on.
“Here’s my Doc-Top,” Billy said. “It’ll give you a complete physical, take out your tonsils, then serve you your favorite flavor ice cream.”
In the corner was an ordinary-looking laptop computer with a small balloon attached to the top.
“What’s that?” Daphna asked.
“Balloon-Top,” Billy said. “The world’s first laptop that converts into a giant hot-air balloon. Actually, the first time we tried it, the whole thing caught on fire and exploded. This is the second model.”
“Have you tested it yet?” Harkin asked.
“Haven’t had time. But I’ll get it up and running soon. Now look at Picasso-Top! This computer can paint you a masterpiece worthy of hanging at the Metropolitan Museum every time.”
As Billy reached to power up Picasso-Top, Harrison announced that the Cook-Top had finished preparing their meal. Lunch was served.
What a meal: salads, pastas, cheeses, sandwiches, and five kinds of cake for dessert. When they were done, Daphna and her friends were too stuffed to do anything but lean back in their chairs and bask in the glow of a truly extraordinary day. Only after her third dessert (a piece of seven-layer cake), did Daphna remember all the reasons she had made the journey. She pulled the picture back out of her pocket.
“See the other guy in this picture, Billy? Do you remember who he is?”
At that moment, Billy was admiring Harkin’s wristwatch computer.
“No fooling?” Billy was saying to Harkin. “It’s really capable of intercepting information from weather satellites?”
Harkin nodded. “And see this screen? A few nights ago I hacked into the Hubble Telescope. Look!”
Harkin pressed a button, and a small screen appeared on the wristwatch with a stunning picture of a distant star system. As Billy admired it, Daphna cleared her throat and held up the picture to Billy.
“Does this ring a bell?”
Billy remained focused on Harkin’s wristwatch.
“That looks like a black hole, doesn’t it?”
“I think so,” Harkin said. “A big one.”
Daphna looked at Cynthia, who stood to her full height and let fly with a piercing high C. Billy gasped, then tugged nervously on his beard.
“Boy, oh boy,” he said to Cynthia. “You have some pair of lungs.”
Cynthia shrugged. “It’s a gift.”
“Sorry to interrupt,” Daphna said. “But I need to know.” She held out the picture and pointed at the man behind her mother. “Do you know this man?”
“Let’s see here,” Billy said, gathering himself. He held the picture up to his face and took a quick look. “Him?” He tossed the photo gently to the table. “That’s Old Iggy.”
“Old who?” Harkin asked.
“Iggy Blatt,” Billy said. “Ignatious Peabody Blatt is his full name.”
Daphna took back the picture. There was no dyed goatee or sideburns. His eyetooth was not yet colored silver. But the resemblance was still striking. The man in the back was a younger, more relaxed version of the famous Blatt.
“My gosh,” Daphna said. “You and my mom went to college with Ignatious?”
Billy popped a piece of cheese in his mouth. “Sure. We were good friends once upon a time. Old Iggy. Always making himself crazy trying to invent new, wacky things. Why? Do you know him?”
It was an astounding question. Had Billy B. Brilliant really lived in this valley so long that he didn’t know of the great Ignatious Peabody Blatt?
“Know him?” Daphna said. “He’s the head of our school!”
“He’s world famous!” Cynthia said.
“He’s invented Peabody-Pitch,” Harkin said.
“The Hat-Top!”
“And Blatt-Global!”
“Wait a second,” Billy said, standing up. He paused, as if trying to work out the idea in his head. “Iggy Blatt is famous?”
Daphna nodded. “For about ten years.” She wrinkled her brow. “Don’t you keep in contact at all with the outside world?”
Billy shook his head. “The mountain is so high, and the weather up above is so terrible, that internet or TV signals are difficult to pick up. I only hike out once or twice a year for supplies, and I never go to big cities. I’m pretty out-of-date—which is how I like it.”
“So you really know nothing about Ignatious Peabody Blatt?” Cynthia asked.
“Right,” Billy said. “Nothing. But something you said caught my ear. What’s this Peabody-Pitch you mentioned?”
“It’s this cool device that reads your mind and changes the music on your iPod as you think it,” Harkin said.
Billy nodded. “And this Hat-Top? Tell me about that.”
“It’s a laptop computer that attaches to a hat,” Cynthia said. “The screen slides down in front of your face.”
“So you can be online while you walk down the street,” Daphna said.
“And you operate the mouse with your tongue,” Harkin said.
Billy chuckled softly to himself.
“What’s so funny?” Daphna asked.
“That old devil,” Billy said.
“What?” Cynthia asked. “You know about these things?”
“Sure I do,” Billy said. He pounded the table with his fist. “I invented them.”
Daphna was stunned. Was it possible? Yes, Ignatious was a flamboyant man who hadn’t come out with a new product in four years. But no one the world over denied his genius.
“Wait a second,” Harkin said. “You mean you invented the Hat-Top computer?”
“Back in college,” Billy said. “Freshman year. It was all in my notebooks.”
“And Peabody-Pitch?” Cynthia said.
Billy nodded. “Yep. Along with a global computer for looking into anyone’s room.”
“That’s Blatt-Global!” Daphna said. “So you’re saying he stole them all from you?”
“Guess so,” Billy said.
“But how?” Cynthia asked.
“I imagine it was easy,” Billy said. He sat back down and began peeling an orange. “I dropped out of college senior year. I didn’t want to face the ordinary job market where some big computer company would take my best ideas and use them just to make money. I wanted to be by myself and create. I also wanted to start from scratch. So I left my notebooks and all my sketches behind. I guess old Iggy found them.”
Billy seemed to find the whole thing amusing. By now he was leaning back in his chair, chuckling. But Daphna didn’t know what to think or believe. If what Billy said was true, then Ignatious was a complete fraud. But how was that possible? Ignatious Peabody Blatt was the premier number-one computer genius in the world.
“If what you say is true,” Daphna said, “how can you let someone else take credit for your ideas?”
“Right,” Harkin said. “If you’re telling the truth, you’ve got to come back to New York with us. Then we break the news to the press.”
Billy waved a hand and popped an orange slice into his mouth.
“You’re nice to worry about me, but really, let Iggy keep the credit. Doesn’t bother me a bit.”
“How can that not bother you?” Cynthia asked.
Billy shrugged. “I’ve never cared much for public attention or money. I just want to do what I do for my own enjoyment. That’s why I searched for a place where I could create in peace. Took me a full year to find it too. I hiked, then I biked, then I hiked some more, and I haven’t regretted a single minute.” He shook his head. “Iggy was always such a funny kid. Always wanting to be great. To be noticed. A waste of time, if you ask me. Life’s too short.”
Daphna was stunned. She had never met anyone remotely like Billy B. Brilliant—a man who claimed not to care that a former classmate of his was making a fortune off his ideas. Could such a man really exist? Or was Billy B. Brilliant the one who was lying? Maybe he had his own reasons for discrediting Ignatious? Maybe that’s why he dropped out of college and disappeared?
If Billy was telling the truth—if he really had invented all of Ignatious’s products—maybe he could solve the clue left by the antelope man?
“This might sound weird.” She faced Billy. “Do you know anything about a Flex-Bed?”
If Daphna hoped that Billy would jump up and explain everything, she was soon disappointed.
“A Flex-Bed?” Billy said. “Never heard of it.”
He yawned so widely that with his shaggy beard he resembled a roaring lion.
“Excuse me,” he said. “I don’t know about you, but a big meal always makes me sleepy. I’m good to snooze here, but Harrison’ll show you to rooms where you can catch some shut-eye too. We’ll meet back here in an hour or so, and I’ll show you around the valley.”
Daphna didn’t know what to think. Who really was the great genius? Ignatious or Billy? Or both? But questions would have to wait.
Their large host closed his eyes. In seconds, he was quietly snoring.
Chapter 15
Conversation by the Pond
Though it remained hard to accept that Ignatious Peabody Blatt had stolen his product ideas from Billy, the more time Daphna spent with Billy, the more convinced she became that he was telling the truth.
The evidence spoke for itself. Why hadn’t anyone—not even once—ever been invited into Ignatious’s labs? Why hadn’t anyone ever—again, not even once—seen him create anything?
Then there was Billy. His brilliance was on full display. There was Harrison the robot, Cook-Top, Opera-Top, Picasso-Top, and hundreds of other inventions. With talent to burn, Billy B. Brilliant could probably have created Blatt-Global and the Hat-Top computer in his sleep. On top of it all, with every passing hour, Daphna came to see that Billy had truly meant what he said after lunch. Billy didn’t care if Ignatious Peabody Blatt used his ideas to get rich. To his way of thinking, he was the winner, living life on his own terms, spending his days immersed in his own projects, free from the stresses of the modern world. Indeed, Billy was a man who could spend an entire day—perhaps even a week—trying to figure out how to make his Opera-Top sing a high C with more feeling and not feel as though he had wasted a second. “Never underestimate the power of great art,” he told Daphna. “It’s the beauty of creating that makes the work worthwhile.”
Daphna knew that her time with Billy would have to be brief. Along with Monday’s competition for the Insanity Cup, there was the matter of explaining her whereabouts to Ron and Jazmine. Fortunately, Harkin, by carefully manipulating his wristwatch computer, had been able to get online for a few moments before dinner to send reassuring messages home.
With time in the valley limited, Daphna, Harkin, and Cynthia were determined to make good use of every second. That first night, Harkin studied with Billy in his workshop until long past midnight. The following morning, Cynthia rose early, rode on elephant-back to a small grove of coconut trees, and got to work rehearsing her one-woman Macbeth. Daphna discovered a small pond used as a watering hole by zebras and gazelles. There, she opened her book of special music manuscript paper and let the sounds of her symphony fill her head. Totally alone with her thoughts, she sketched out the bare bones of the entire first movement in less than two hours.
The minute she finished, as if to mark the event, Billy stepped out of the underbrush. He wore a pair of purple baggy shorts, a yellow shirt, and black boots. His thick red beard appeared to be freshly washed and combed. A lone monkey was perched on his shoulder, crouched there like a cat.
“Hope I’m not disturbing you,” he said.
Daphna shook her head. “No, no. I’m good.”
Billy nodded and sat down on an adjacent rock. “What’re you working on?”
Daphna’s cheeks flushed. “My first symphony.”
“Very impressive,” he said. “When can I hear some of your music?”
Daphna paused. In truth, she knew the perfect time.
“There’s an assembly back in New York tomorrow. I’m sure I could get you in.”
Billy looked over the pond and sighed. “Wouldn’t that be nice?”
Daphna was tempted to ask him to come, but she held her tongue. She knew what the answer would be. Billy would never leave his paradise in the African mountain.
In any case, there was another subject Daphna was eager to get to. Since the moment she had arrived in Billy’s valley, questions about her mother had run through her mind incessantly. What was she like in college? Were she and Billy good friends? Were they good friends with Ignatious? Now that Daphna had private time with Billy, she couldn’t get the words right.
“You look like a girl with something on her mind,” Billy said.
Daphna gazed across the pond. On the other side, a baby zebra was reaching down for a drink next to its mother. Daphna took it as a sign. If she wanted more info, it was now or never.
“Tell me about my mom.”
Billy nodded as if he had been waiting for the question since her arrival. “What kinds of things do you want to hear?”
“Anything,” Daphna said. “You decide.”
Two other little zebras had joined the mom across the pond. One slipped forward and got its nose wet. As it righted itself back on the shore, Billy turned to Daphna.
“How’s this?” Billy said. “Did you know that she would do all her homework in light green pen?”
Daphna smiled, remembering the names on the mysterious picture, as well as the hidden map, all drawn in light green. “She wrote all our groc
ery lists like that too.”
“I’m not surprised,” Billy said. “I suppose that you know about her bracelets.”
Another nod. “She had a different colored one for each day of the week.”
Billy laughed. “Heather didn’t change as she got older, did she? Right, a different color so she always knew what day it was. That’s the kind of mind she had, very organized.”
“What else?” Daphna said.
“Seems that you know everything I’ve got to say.”
“No,” Daphna said. “Keep going.”
Billy stood and stretched. The monkey on his shoulder hopped to the ground. “Well, let’s see. . . . She once wrote a paper for an environmental studies class on the prospects of using old bicycle seats and handlebars as an alternative fuel.”
That was the mom Daphna knew. She remembered the day her mom had come home and announced that she was reconstructing a World War I B-2 biplane. She had once lobbied Ron to put a giant windmill on the roof to supply the building with electricity.
“Did it work?” Daphna asked.
Billy shook his head. “Afraid not. I believe that the teacher pointed out that bike seats best preserve energy by staying on the bikes they came with so that people can ride them.” Billy laughed. “That might have been the only bad grade your mom ever got.”
“What else?” Daphna said.
Billy scratched his beard. “There was the time she used herself as a subject in a nutrition class by living only on chicken for a full week.”
“For a full week?”
“Just the dark meat.”
Daphna nodded. That made sense. She and her mom always fought over the legs and thighs.
“And oh, oh!” Billy said. He wagged his head, remembering. “Here’s something you may not know. Your mother played the saxophone.”
That news had Daphna up on her feet. Her mother had never mentioned that she played an instrument—not even once.
“The sax? No!”
“She took it up our sophomore year. I was in a jazz band, and your mom thought it’d be fun to join. So she took up the sax. Got pretty good, too, in a short time.”
“Did she ever play in public?”
Billy nodded. “Once.” He looked at Daphna. “It was quite something.”
