The Alternate
Universe
Praise for
Khronos Chronicles
Rob Wolf gives us an alternate universe where a lot is different but some things remain the same: guys still get crushes and fall in love, stepfathers are horrific, and friends are willing to go to the end of time for one another. Fast-paced and incredibly smart, you will never look at life in quite the same way again.
—JENNIFER BELLE
bestselling author of GOING DOWN,
HIGH MAINTENANCE, and LITTLE STALKER
If I ever travel to an alternate universe, I want Claude and Carolien along for the ride. They’re tough, resourceful, and fun—perfect companions for a journey through space-time.
—CAROLYN TURGEON
author of MERMAID, GODMOTHER,
and THE FAIREST OF THEM ALL
Reminiscent of Arthur C. Clarke’s 2001: A Space Odyssey in its bold concepts.
—ARTHUR NERSESIAN
author of GLAYDYSS OF THE HUNT, DOGRUN, and CHINESE TAKEOUT
Rob Wolf charms us with a story of teenagers in a familiar, yet off-kilter, world. In this cosmos of robot helpers, green-toned skin and unpulled punches, nerdiness is taboo, but desires that might seem taboo are not. Wolf brings us into the lives of his characters with genuine empathy and attention to the details that preoccupy teens in any universe.
—THADDEUS RUTKOWSKI
author of HAYWIRE
Even more original and gripping than the clever gadgets and details of the world in which these characters live is the frontier of the human heart Rob Wolf dares to explore here. Without comment or heavy lifting, Wolf presents real, vulnerable young characters who need no excuse to simply be who they are in this compelling alternative universe. Go there.
—ALLEN SALKIN
New York Times contributor and author of
FROM SCRATCH: INSIDE THE FOOD NETWORK
The Alternate Universe
Part 1 of
Khronos Chronicles
Copyright © 2014 by Rob Wolf
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any
electronic or mechanical means including photocopying,
recording, or information storage and retrieval
without permission in writing from the author.
www.robwolf.net
Cover Design by: Roy Migabon
Cover and Khronos design © 2014 Rob Wolf
The Alternate
Universe
Khronos Chronicles
Part 1
Contact Rob Wolf at:
www.robwolf.net
Follow Rob Wolf on Twitter:
@RobWolfBooks
For Dru
Contents
Chapter One
Stormy Weather
Chapter Two
An Unexpected Gift
Chapter Three
Best Friends
Chapter Four
The Contest
Chapter Five
At the Bandshell
Chapter Six
The Escape of Molly and Moore
Chapter Seven
The Experiment
Chapter Eight
A Fantastical Conversation
Chapter Nine
Claude Finds a Note
Chapter Ten
An Unwelcome Request
Chapter Eleven
A Draft of Cold Air
Chapter Twelve
Breaking the Code
Chapter Thirteen
What Maya Knows
Chapter Fourteen
Searching for a Safe
Chapter Fifteen
‘I Need Help’
Chapter Sixteen
Secrets of the Mansion
Chapter Seventeen
Fast Loops of Ore’s Rotation
Preview of Part 2
The Escape
If we could travel into the past … history
would become an experimental science.
Carl Sagan
Chapter One
Stormy Weather
Claude stood on the roof, arms outstretched, waiting for the wind as the crowd held its breath. Everyone he knew was there: teachers, friends, his parents. There were reporters, too, cameras rolling.
When the wind came, it passed over the edge of the crowd, rippling hair and shirts. As it reached Claude, the metallic wings fastened to his arms expanded and lifted him off the ground. The crowd was silent at first but then applauded and cheered, and their adulation seemed to lift him higher, higher.
As he rose, the people grew smaller and the world unfurled below. Looking one way, he could see the supermarket and the mall. Looking the other way, he saw the village green and beyond that the university and even further beyond that the ribbon of highway that snaked toward Chicago.
Manipulating the wings as if he’d been a bird his whole life, he turned in the direction of the house where he lived with his father and then, dropping the right wing, he spun to face his mother’s house, the roof of which was visible among the oaks lining Lake Michigan’s shore. Although his parents’ houses were at opposite ends of town, his perch in the sky made it look as if there were just a few minutes walk between them.
A strong gust knocked Claude to one side and a downdraft sent him spinning. He tried to steady the wings, but something was wrong. To his horror, his right wing had torn and he was spiraling. His heart beat wildly as the ground rapidly approached and deafening alarm filled his ears…
Claude jumped in his chair and opened his eyes. The blaring sound continued but he was no longer wearing metallic wings or falling from the sky. He was in Mrs. Marrero’s geometry class.
The sound was the tornado alarm. The windows were rattling and the sky had grown ominously dark. Claude was covered in nervous sweat and his heart was pounding, a remnant of the dream that he was quickly forgetting. He rose from his seat and shuffled with the rest of the class into the hall.
“This is getting kind of old, don’t you think?” Claude heard Stefani Philips say to Robyn Wu, who nodded in agreement. Tornados had become a regular occurrence in the last couple months, and the students treated them with nonchalance, largely due to the fact that they’d all passed quickly and, except for the roof torn off the Costco Gas & Food and an unharnessed carriage that had been tossed three blocks into a sand trap at the Green Acres Country Club, damage had been minimal.
The students lined up against the lockers in the hall and dropped to the floor while Mrs. Marrero nervously paced up and down like a rooster. “Tuck in, tuck in,” she said, her voice shrill, but the students, who’d been practicing the “tornado position” in drills at least three times a week, ignored her. The noise in the halls grew deafening as the students gossiped, laughed, and chatted on their cells.
Claude, on rotation as storm monitor, had the loathsome job of unrolling newly installed posters, which dangled from the ceiling on dowels. Each banner, in red, uppercase letters, bore idiotic instructions:
ACHTUNG! ASSUME THE TORNADO POSITION
ACHTUNG! LISTEN QUIETLY
FOR INSTRUCTIONS
ACHTUNG! WAIT PATIENTLY
FOR THE ALL CLEAR
But the last one—without question authored by Principal Patina, who always tried to work the word “fun” into everything—was the stupidest:
ACHTUNG! STAY SAFE AND HAVE FUN
Claude felt like a jerk as he dragged a stepladder from banner to banner to reach the pullstrings. Two of them were fussy, refusing to stay open. They snapped back up, again and again.
“Scheisse,” he muttered.
“Don’t pull it all the way.”
He
looked down and saw Jayesh Hilovasian smiling up at him. Claude blushed, embarrassed to be caught in the middle of such a nerdy task by one of the most handsome and hippest guys in school. Jayesh had thick, wavy, jet black hair and larger-than-average gray eyes that seemed to radiate an inner light. His skin was smooth, the color of milky coffee, and his lips were luscious, like small pillows, framing teeth that were white, straight and shiny, just like a dentist’s model.
“Um, ah,” Claude mumbled, aware that everyone who had been watching—and laughing at—his failure to tame the banner was now watching him fail to form words.
“If you leave an inch on the rod instead of yanking it all the way down, it will stick,” Jayesh said. He climbed one step on the ladder and grabbed the pullstring to demonstrate. Claude watched his hand on the cord and felt himself blushing more. Jayesh released the cord and the banner remained in place. Then he smiled, flashing his dazzling, perfect teeth.
“Thanks,” Claude managed to say.
“Good job, Sylvana,” someone shouted in his direction. Claude looked down to see Eric Watson, a satisfied grin on his face. He was sitting next to his girlfriend, Stefani Philips, and leaning against a locker, legs spread wide in defiance of the tornado position, which called for contracting into a fetal shape.
“Oh blow, I hate that stupid show,” Stefani said. She was referring to Scan That Product, the game show hosted by Sylvana Gray, who spent most of each episode unfurling scrolls. Gray ended each show by cupping her hand in the shape of a “C” and saying, with a wink to the camera, “See you real soon.”
“Hey, Sylvana,” Eric persisted, exuding the stupid confidence that came with being the richest kid in school. “Are you too stuck up to talk to us?”
Claude frowned but Jayesh laughed. “Is he talking to you or me?” Claude asked, annoyed.
“Who cares?” Jayesh said, giving Claude a wink. Claude’s heart did a double beat as he realized that Jayesh was flirting with him. Or was he? It had happened in a flash, a flutter of the eyelid and now Jayesh was already gone, walking over to Watson, greeting him like an old friend as they exchanged an elaborate hand maneuver—fist, slap, shake. Claude noticed that they were both wearing varsity team jodhpurs, although Watson’s were made of leather and his boots had gold-trimmed heels.
“Hey, he’s not Sylvana,” Eric said, looking past Jayesh at Claude as he descended the ladder. “You know, Altide, from behind, you and Sylvana Gray look exactly alike.”
Stefani laughed, but Jayesh rolled his eyes.
Claude would have been satisfied giving Eric the finger, but with Jayesh watching, he felt something clever was required. He raised an eyebrow and tried to look amused. “I didn’t realize you’ve made such a careful study of my backside, Watson.”
Eric’s smile vanished. He grabbed his riding crop and thrust it at Claude. “I could hurt you with this, Altide,” he sneered.
Jayesh chuckled. “That’s what you get for staring at his ass,” he said.
“I can hurt you too,” Eric said.
“Why are you always so crude?” Jayesh asked. Then he turned to Claude and said, as if they were suddenly alone, “You’re cute.”
Claude froze as if momentarily blinded by the flash of a camera.
“Now who’s being crude?” Eric said.
Claude wondered if Jayesh was pulling his leg, but it was hard to imagine those bright gray eyes, now staring at him so intently, could be anything but sincere. “I’m just stating a fact,” Jayesh said boldly.
“Thank you,” Claude said. “You’re not so bad yourself.” He was thrilled, but if anything could ruin a sweet moment, it was Watson’s expression: a curling of lip that looked as if he’d just taken a gulp of rotten milk.
“If you think he’s cute than you must think an elephant turd on your mother’s rotting face is drop-dead gorgeous,” Watson said.
“Can we leave my poor vain mother out of this?” Jayesh asked.
Claude was having trouble following the banter. The fact that Jayesh had called him “cute”—and in public, no less—was sinking in, leaving him both lightheaded and energized, his finger- and toe-tips tingling.
“I better take this back,” Claude said, but so softly that no one heard. He made a half-turn and walked with the ladder toward the classroom.
“Let me help,” Jayesh said, rushing over and lifting the ladder from his hands.
“Thanks,” Claude said, smiling.
“Can you believe another tornado, huh?” Jayesh asked, as if they were old friends.
“No. Not really. Or yes. I mean, I’m starting to get used to them,” Claude said, unable to set his thoughts straight. He was trying to think of something clever to say and, at the same time, trying to figure out what he was feeling. He’d always considered Jayesh cute but had never given a thought to dating him. They traveled in different crowds, and their high school was so huge that their paths rarely crossed.
But then Claude remembered something that had happened a few weeks ago. He’d been sitting with Carolien in the cafeteria when he’d randomly locked eyes with Jayesh, who’d been sitting a few tables away. Their eyes had connected briefly, and Jayesh had smiled and nodded, as if sharing a private joke, and then he’d looked away, resuming his conversation with his friends.
At the time Claude had thought nothing of it, but now he wondered if Jayesh had been staring at him, maybe even admiring him.
They’d reached the room, and Jayesh held open the door. “My father thinks we should live under a big dome and forget about the weather,” he said.
“Dome?” Claude asked. For a moment, he’d thought Jayesh had said “condom.”
“Under a dome, weather would be obsolete—kein Problem,” Jayesh said.
“Kein Problem,” Claude repeated robotically. He tried to focus on what Jayesh was saying, but his mind wouldn’t obey. Instead of listening, he found himself wondering what it would be like to kiss him.
The door had shut behind them. The classroom was empty, the desks lined up like soldiers. Beyond the rattling windows, the sky was pitch black, and the wind, squeezing through cracks in the frames, whined and howled.
They were just inches apart, and Claude thought how easy it would be to bring their lips together.
Then Mrs. Marrero pushed open the door. “Back in the hall, schnell schnell,” she screeched.
“Yes, ma’am,” Jayesh said alertly, spinning around and dashing out.
Claude followed, but Jayesh was walking toward Watson and Phillips. Claude was tempted to tag along, but when Jayesh dropped down next to them without once turning around, he froze.
“Sit down, Mr. Altide,” Mrs. Marrero said.
Claude sank to the ground, squeezing between Tom Rossi and Amanda Crane but his eyes remained glued to Jayesh. Watson caught Claude’s eye and sneered, and then cupped his right hand into the shape of a C and mouthed Sylvana’s trademark signoff: “See you real soon.”
Claude gave him the finger and sulked. He was annoyed that Jayesh, after calling him cute, wouldn’t look at him, but then he felt foolish. Had he really thought a kid as handsome as Jayesh could be interested in him?
The school’s rickety janitor PAL—a rectangular, headless, first-generation Programmable Automated Laborer that looked like a garbage can on wheels—shuddered by, bleeping in its lifeless, mechanized voice, “Warnung. Wind alert. Stay indoors. Warnung. Wind alert. Stay indoors.”
“That thing is a fire hazard,” Amanda said.
Claude thought of his stepfather’s state-of-the-art PALs, which were far smarter and more sophisticated than the school’s clanky janitor. His stepfather’s models were prototypes, of course, still in testing, with creepy holographic heads that could assume any likeness, from the president’s to a bald eagle’s, and Claude suddenly pictured Jayesh as a PAL—his handsome face flicking over a metallic torso. The image, and the idea of being able to program Jayesh to fall irreversibly in love with him, made him smile.
When the all clear
rang a half hour later, Claude looked through the door of an open classroom and saw a shaft of sunlight pouring through the windows. It seemed odd that the weather could change so abruptly, but he was glad he wouldn’t have to ride home in the rain.
In the swirl of students, he lost track of Jayesh. He marched from poster to poster, snapping them shut. At the end of the hall, he found the STAY SAFE AND HAVE FUN banner on the floor, covered in footprints. Someone had ripped it off its wooden dowel, which now hung crookedly from the ceiling. As he picked the poster up, he noticed that at the bottom in fine print were the words, “Another Fine Product from All Products United.”
Claude felt decidedly un-Sylvana like as he wadded up the poster and shoved it in a nearby garbage can.
Chapter Two
An Unexpected Gift
Claude watched as about two dozen workers in yellow jumpers moved methodically across the ball field collecting storm debris. About six of them guided two massive tubes that sucked up leaves and broken branches, garbage from spilled trash cans, and random scraps like shingles from the roof of the fieldhouse, a lone boot, and a tattered volleyball net.
The Alternate Universe Page 1
