Close up, I could see that the panels were made from a faceted greenish glass. At the edge of the patio was a small, waist-high pedestal with a panel, a speaker, and a screen set into the top. Next to the pedestal was a container filled with tennis balls, basketballs, soccer balls, rackets of all shapes and sizes, lacrosse and field hockey sticks, and baseball bats and gloves.
“No way,” said Nate with a gasp. He put his hand on the pad.
“Hello, Nate Noland,” came a voice from the speaker. “Would you like to play a game?” Dad, standing behind us, laughed as the screen flickered to life with a dozen options.
“I don’t get it,” I said. “Is it a giant video game?”
“Yes!” Eric hissed in glee.
“No,” said Nate. He pressed a button and the panels came alive. White lines glowed up from the panes, rectangles and circles materializing on the surface as if a giant hand was painting a basketball court in front of our eyes.
“Check it out!” Eric cried, scrolling through the screen. “You can do batting practice or tennis or half-court basketball or soccer . . . wait, how do they do the nets and goals and stuff?”
As if in response, a little door opened at either end of the court and poles telescoped out of the ground, rising to regulation height as a backboard and hoop fanned out from the top, a bit like an automated umbrella.
Nate grabbed a ball and headed down the steps to the court, and Savannah ran after him. “I’ll play if I can be on Nate’s team.”
“No fair!” Eric called down at her. “I want to be on Nate’s team. Girls versus boys.”
“Like that solves anything?” Savannah said. “We don’t have even numbers of girls and boys.”
I looked at the court display on the screen in front of us. Along with the outline of the basketball court, it showed Savannah’s and Nate’s position as little dots. So it could even see where we stood? Though I supposed that made sense, especially if it wanted to see if we were inbounds or offsides.
Although how could it tell what team we were on?
“Nate has nine inches on me,” Savannah whined.
“And I’m shorter than you are,” Eric pointed out.
“And he sucks at basketball, either way,” Howard said. He was still standing next to the screen, scrolling through the court choices. “We should try four square.” He pressed his finger against the screen and the basketball poles snapped shut and began retracting as the lines on the panels began to fade and get redrawn like a giant Etch A Sketch.
“Quit it!” Nate cried up at his brother, who ignored him.
“The problem,” Howard went on as he pressed the screen again, making the lines on the court disintegrate and re-form, “is that there’s really no way for the court to pretend to be a grass field. You might be able to play basketball or tennis, but not soccer or any other field sports.”
“Knock it off!” Nate yelled up at him. “We want to play!” He leaped out of the way as a crack opened in the center of the court and a wire tennis net began to unfold. Nate stormed up the stairs. “I said stop!”
“Um . . .” Howard jammed his fingers against the screen. “I think I overloaded it.” The lines kept erasing and redrawing, as doors snapped open and shut, with whirring goals and poles and baskets and nets unfurling and retracting at once.
“You broke it?” Savannah rolled her eyes. “Again with the buttons, Howard?”
Nate lunged at Howard, who sidestepped him and jumped off the porch onto the court. Nate chased after him while I tried to figure out how he’d broken the controls. Buttons were not Howard’s strong suit.
Howard ducked under a retreating basketball hoop and hopped over the sinking tennis net, with his brother hot on his heels. I tried to wrangle the touch screen. “Help me,” I said to my brother. “Poke anything that looks like an escape button.”
“Ah,” Eric said from behind me. “This brings me back to that elevator where we were almost gassed to death.” He leaned over my shoulder. “That’s weird,” he said, and pointed at where the dot of Nate was circling the court and trying to pin down his brother down.
“What?” I asked.
“Howard’s invisible.” He tapped the screen where we should have seen a dot for Howard, but the screen was dark.
“No wonder Guidant’s not selling these things yet,” I said. “They still need to work out the bugs.”
Nate tackled Howard to the ground.
“Lemme up!” Howard shouted, scrabbling with hands and feet to try to get leverage on the smooth surface.
“Stop messing around,” Nate shot back, and sat on top of him. Howard pushed up and kicked his legs out like a donkey to unseat Nate. On the screen, another person-dot flickered to life underneath Nate’s.
I narrowed my eyes and peered closer. Eric was right. The court only recognized him when his hands were on the ground, not when any part of the utility suit was.
“Okay, guys,” said Dad. “That’s enough. I don’t think the smart court has a wrestling option. Plus, it doesn’t have, um, cushioned mats.”
But that didn’t stop them.
THE INCIDENT WITH the smart court left Howard with a scraped knee and Nate with a bruise the size of a quarter on his upper arm.
“Ow, dude,” Nate said to his brother as they sat around the guesthouse kitchen, icing their wounds and eating lunch. “When did you get so strong?”
“Why did it take you so long to notice?” Howard shot back.
Savannah shook her head at the two of them. “I should probably be glad I’m an only child, huh?”
“Yes,” Eric and I said in unison.
Dad laughed and ruffled my brother’s hair. “I missed you guys.”
I hugged him from behind. “We missed you, too.”
Mom was in the other room, “giving us space” or whatever, while she answered some work emails. I wished she’d either just dropped us off and left us alone, or stayed to see what it was she was trying to wreck with her whole Idaho plan. We belonged with Dad.
She poked her head in and tapped the face of her watch. “Are you guys going to be ready? We have our tour soon.”
That reminded me. “Dad, yesterday was Howard’s birthday—”
“Oh, really? Happy birthday, Howard,” Dad said absentmindedly. He was standing at the kitchen counter, shuffling papers into a file.
“And he got a book on code breaking,” I continued.
“That’s great. Codes are fun.” He frowned at one of his printouts, then shoved it in an envelope.
“We think it’s from Dr. Underberg.”
Finally, Dad turned his attention to me. “What?”
“It’s true, Dr. S.,” Howard said. “It’s got an inscription inside that says it’s from him.”
Dad narrowed his eyes. “And someone sent that to you? That just seems cruel. . . .”
I blinked. Cruel? Did that mean Dad thought it was impossible, too? “It was in his handwriting, Dad!” I exclaimed. “The code, I mean. Howard, go get the book.”
“You recognize his handwriting?” Dad asked as Howard ran to retrieve it.
“Of course,” I exclaimed. “I recognized it last year, in the stolen diary pages I found on, um, Fiona’s computer.”
Dad was looking at me sadly. “Right. My daughter, the sneak.”
“The sneak who found out what that woman was up to,” Mom pointed out. “And she is your daughter, Sam. You would have done the exact same thing.”
“Good point,” Dad conceded.
I looked at Mom. Who would have thought she’d stand up for me? About snooping. To Dad. Was today opposite day?
Howard came back with the code book and handed it to Dad, who flipped to the inscription. “This does look like Underberg’s writing. . . .”
I smirked at Eric, but when I turned back to Dad, his face was drawn with concern.
“I don’t like this.”
“I do,” said Howard, reaching out as if Dad was going to take the book away. “It has a lot
of information on substitution ciphers and letter frequency and numbers stations.”
Dad gave him a weak smile. “That’s not what I mean, Howard. I just think it’s odd that you would get a book like this, that claims to be from Underberg, when we haven’t heard anything about him in months.”
“It is from him!” I insisted. “I’d know that handwriting anywhere.”
Dad handed the book back to Howard, who looked relieved. “Then isn’t it possible other people recognize his handwriting, too? And if they were trying to convince you a message came from Dr. Underberg, using his handwriting would be exactly the way they’d do it?”
I leaned back in my seat. He had a point there.
“I can understand how strongly you want to believe Dr. Underberg is still out there, honey,” Dad was saying now. “I want to believe it, too. The idea of meeting the man I’ve devoted so much of my life to researching—it would be a dream come true. But I’ve tried to find him, over and over. Ever since you guys escaped from Omega City, I’ve been searching—calling all my old sources, contacting my friends in the aeronautics industry, both before the book was published and since, to get a definitive answer on what happened to him and his rocket. But no one knows anything. At least, not anything they would tell me.”
Before The Forgotten Fortress was published and Dad’s reputation was redeemed, this wouldn’t have surprised me. But after?
“And then this package arrives for Howard. It seems . . . strange, to say the least.”
“What do you mean?” Nate asked.
“Someone sent this to Howard—not to me, who has been trying to get in contact with Underberg for months.”
“And not to me,” Eric said. “I had a birthday, too, you know.”
“And whoever did it had to know what a message from Dr. Underberg would mean to you kids.”
His words hung in the air for a second as we pondered what this meant. Savannah gasped.
“Ooh,” she cried. “Do you mean—could it be from Fiona, Dr. S.?”
I felt cold. I’d never thought about that. Eric and I didn’t know if Fiona and her assistants had ended up facing jail time for the stuff they did to us, but I do know Dad took out a restraining order against all three of them. Maybe that’s why the book was sent to Howard, instead of to either of us.
Fiona was part of the team of Shepherds who’d destroyed Dad’s reputation by flooding our cottage and all his research documents, making him unable to prove his sources when doubt was cast on his work. She’d stolen Dr. Underberg’s personal diary from my dad so she could find Omega City and claim all of Underberg’s inventions for herself. She’d pretended to date Dad so she could weasel even more information about Underberg out of him. She’d chased me and my friends all through the city and tried to trap us inside. She’d blown up Omega City and forced Dr. Underberg into space. I hated her.
And I’d hate her even more if she made us think Dr. Underberg was still alive when he wasn’t.
7
ET IN ARCADIA, EGO
DAD RECOMMENDED WE PAUSE OUR CONVERSATION AND GET DRESSED IN our nice clothes for the meeting with the Guidant engineers, and we agreed. The book wasn’t going anywhere.
In the car on the way over, Eric slid in beside me.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey,” I replied.
“Truce?”
I frowned. So now that Dad agreed there was something to worry about, Eric believed me? Good to know.
“Come on, Gills,” he coaxed. “I thought you were just trying to come up with another reason not to go to Idaho. . . .”
“Well, I’m not!” I snapped.
“I know that now.” He looked at his hands. “I’m sorry, okay? The next time you tell me something completely bonkers, I promise not to question it.”
I stared at him. “There’s no way you’re going to pull that off.”
He shrugged, and a smile sneaked back onto his face. “I just said the next time. Not every time. As a favor.”
I considered this as Guidant buildings flashed by outside the window. “Okay,” I said at last. “Truce.”
All the structures on the Guidant campus were designed to be as environmentally friendly as possible, which meant many were covered in solar panels or had moss-covered roofs that supposedly cleaned water and offset pollution. The building where the cars stopped featured a soaring glass atrium filled with a landscape of trees, bushes, and fountains.
As soon as we were inside, a young woman walked briskly up to us. “Hello!” she said brightly. “I’m Dani Alcestis, Elana Mero’s assistant. We’re so happy to have you here.”
Dani was a tall, pretty, young woman with green eyes, light brown skin, and straightened hair that had been sculpted into a big bronze swirl at the crown of her head. She smoothed a hand across her hair as she spoke. “Unfortunately, I have some bad news. Ms. Mero was called away at the last moment and will be unable to meet with you as planned this afternoon. But she’s looking forward to seeing you tonight. We’ve arranged for a dinner at one of the campus’s best restaurants.”
“Oh,” said Dad. He looked at Mom and Nate. “We weren’t all planning on staying. Nate has a college tour he’s supposed to go to.”
Dani’s eyes flicked in Nate’s direction. “You’re leaving? I don’t think Ms. Mero was aware you wouldn’t all be staying for the whole weekend.”
“I hope that’s not a problem,” Dad said.
Dani hesitated for a moment, then smiled politely. “No, not at all. It’s just unfortunate that she won’t get the chance to meet him. Ms. Mero was so taken with your stories in The Forgotten Fortress. She was looking forward to a chance to meet personally with each of you.” She straightened her jacket. “I’ve read the book, too, and I was very impressed, especially with your account of actually speaking to Dr. Underberg. What an honor, to be able to converse with such a brilliant man.”
“Well,” I said, “maybe he’ll come back to Earth one day, and you can talk to him, too.”
Dani gave me a curious glance. “You must be Gillian.”
I nodded.
“I think it would be an amazing experience, to get to talk to Dr. Underberg, as you did.” She looked thoughtful. “Unlike you, I may even have taken him up on his offer to go to the stars.”
I looked at her in surprise. Really? Even though no one knew what happened to his ship? Most everyone else who’d read Dad’s book thought Underberg was crazy for taking off like that—and even crazier for trying to coax a bunch of kids to join him.
“So who are we meeting with?” Howard asked.
Dani blinked, as if lost in thought, and straightened. “The engineers, of course. Everyone here has read your book and is excited to discuss your discoveries. And of course, we want to show you all the behind-the-scenes developments here at Eureka Cove and give you an idea about the ways we hope to bring Underberg’s dreams to life in the twenty-first century.”
“Cool,” said Howard. “Hey, I read that Guidant is interested in starting a space flight program, like SpaceX.”
“Yes,” Dani said. “It’s a lot different from when I was a kid, and the only space exploration in the country was being done by NASA. But Guidant is still several years away from launching any manned flights. Our only real triumph in that field is with our satellite, Capella.”
“That’s the early-warning satellite that detected that comet last week?” Howard asked.
“We’re still monitoring it,” Dani said.
“I heard about that,” said Mom. “They said it will pass almost as close to Earth as the moon.”
“That’s a little too close, isn’t it?” Nate asked. “I mean, can’t it hit us?”
“It’s less than two thousand feet wide, and it’s about three hundred thousand miles away,” said Howard. “So, no.” He thought for a second, then added, “Well, hopefully, no.”
“Hopefully?” Nate’s eyes widened.
“The Capella project monitors all near-Earth object
s that pose a threat to our planet,” Dani said. “Though here at Guidant we’re focused on making the Earth as beautiful and sustainable a place as possible. You know what they say: Et in Arcadia, ego.”
“What?” I narrowed my eyes. “What about Arkadia?”
Dad chuckled. “It’s Latin, Gillian. A famous Latin saying. Et in Arcadia, ego. Arcadia was a term for a classical natural paradise.”
“Is that what Arkadia Group was named for?” Savannah asked.
“Oh, that’s right,” exclaimed Dani. “Arkadia Group, like in your book, Dr. Seagret.”
“But what does it mean?” I asked. “Et in Arcadia . . . whatever . . .”
“‘Even in Arcadia, I am,’” Mom broke in. “Except the ‘I’ is death.”
“Death?” Nate echoed.
“Yes,” Mom said. “The saying means that no matter how perfect things appear, death still awaits.”
“Wicked,” said Eric.
“Gross,” said Savannah.
“Huh,” said Dani, turning to my father. “You know, Dr. Seagret, it’s interesting, what Gillian here said. Maybe this Arkadia Group Dr. Underberg was a part of did take their name from the saying. After all, they were the people who helped Underberg build Omega City, right? Preparing for the end of the world, even at the height of the twentieth century?”
“Good point,” said Dad. “At the very least, I think we’ve found a chapter title for the new book.”
“Excellent.” Dani clapped her hands. “Now, shall we start the tour?”
As everyone trotted off behind Dani, I took one last look around the atrium. The soaring, glass panes, the gurgling fountains, the carefully manicured trees . . .
Et in Arcadia, ego.
I HAD TO admit it—the Guidant facilities were amazing. I was sure even Dr. Underberg would agree. I wondered if he’d be working for a company like this now, if he hadn’t disappeared into Omega City all those decades ago. If he’d be getting involved in all these private companies’ space exploration programs. What wonderful things could he have invented if Arkadia Group hadn’t turned on him and driven him—literally—underground? Self-driving cars, robotic limbs, computers you could control with your eyes—and that was just the stuff I could understand!
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