Dimension Drift

by Christina Bauer

  He turns and locks those huge brown eyes right on me. “Hello, Meimi.”

  “I told you to leave,” I whisper.

  “I did.”

  “And you came to my school. Hardy-har-har.”

  Meanwhile, Chloe and Zoe immediately start mouthing phrases to me nonstop.

  He’s cute.

  You like him.

  Wow.

  Lead Camper Dave leans out the door and waves. “Good day, oh Mercenaries of Righteous Enforcement! Thank you for purifying us from the undeserving!”

  The Merciless don’t reply, but unless they’re interrogating someone, they don’t bother with small talk.

  The moment Lead Camper Dave closes the door, the tension in the room seeps back to normal. Our teacher rubs his hands together. “It’s so exciting to have a new student.” Based on the reaction of the other girls in the room, Lead Camper Dave isn’t the only one who’s excited.

  Trouble is, Thorne keeps staring in my direction. It takes a serious act of will to pretend that I don’t notice.

  “Let’s start at the beginning.” Our teacher points at the chalkboard. “My name is Lead Camper Dave. Can you say that, class?”

  The monotone reply sounds again. “Lead Camper Dave.”

  Thorne doesn’t reply. He’s too busy staring. Zoe and Chloe have started fake fanning themselves and continuing their silent commentary.

  So hot.

  He’s totally into you.

  That’s a keeper.

  I’m contemplating if there’s a way to create a drift void and jump in when I notice it: a massive spiral frac forming on the chalkboard. It’s as if a round section of the board turns slick as glass, and then an invisible hand punches right into the center. Concentric fracture lines fan out from the impact point. Lead Camper Dave keeps yammering on while the spiral frac starts to spin.

  That’s now an active vortex. Not good.

  Thorne’s forehead creases as he notices my concern. His gaze locks on the exact same place on the chalkboard. The green and white of the chalkboard blurs into a rotating whirlpool of color. A glimmer of concern shows in his chocolate-brown eyes.

  A chill craws up my neck. It’s like Thorne can see the active vortex whirling away. But that can’t be possible, can it?

  Lead Camper Dave launches into another speech about how the poor and sick are undeserving. Meanwhile, the swirl of colors transforms into a dark whorl, reminding me of a black hole in miniature.

  This thing is no longer just a major active vortex.

  It’s a massive drift void.

  And it’s right at the spot where Lead Camper Dave has been writing.

  Even worse, there are some red lights sparkling in the depths of that miniature black hole. I’ve seen that happen before. If Lead Camper Dave touches that spot, something bad will happen. As in, a matching black hole will appear on my teacher’s chest and he’ll fall over, dead.

  Heart attack.

  Step on a crack, break your mother’s back.

  Now I don’t like Lead Camper Dave, but I don’t want to see him die, either. My mind becomes a blank slate of shock. I’m vaguely aware of Lead Camper Dave warning us again about Sir Kensington. Acting on reflex, I stand up.

  Lead Camper Dave stops. “Do you have something to say, Camper Meimi?”

  Behind our teacher, the drift vortex starts to shrink in size. That’s a good thing. It’s starting to disappear. I just need to distract Lead Camper Dave for a few more seconds. He can’t touch that spot on the blackboard.

  “Yes, I have something to add.”

  Lead Camper Dave folds his arms over his chest. “Go on.”

  “People who are poor or sick are not undeserving. We have a moral obligation to help our fellow humans. And even if your logic worked, the undeserving are attached to someone who loves them. By abandoning those in need, you just add more weight and worry on the able bodied and healthy people that you say you are trying to protect.”

  Zoe and Chloe lean forward in their seats. They are so loving this. Thorne watches me carefully, as if I’m a puzzle he’s trying to solve. Lead Camper Dave looks so angry, it’s like his head will explode.

  “You. Girl. Meimi. Go home. I don’t care who you know—” Lead Camper Dave shuts his mouth so tightly, his thick lips turn into a white line. I know exactly who he supposedly doesn’t care about: the Scythe. Lead Camper Dave has a major gambling problem, and it wouldn’t be the first time Scythe has cleaned up Dave’s debts.

  “I’m reporting you,” snarls Lead Camper Dave. “You’ll burn for this.”

  A few long seconds tick by, and I’m pretty sure Lead Camper Dave is actually going to open the door, call over that guard, and have her burn my face off. Did I make a big miscalculation here?

  At last, Lead Camper Dave points to the door. “Get out.”

  Some of the tension seeps from my body. He’s not going to call the Merciless; he’s sending me home. Or in this case, he’s actually releasing me to the Scythe.

  As I rush toward the door, I risk a glance at Chloe and Zoe, who are shooting me subtle thumbs-up. For his part, Thorne is still watching me with interest. I make a beeline for the exit, but not before I catch his eye one last time.

  And I wink.

  Chapter Six

  It doesn’t take long to reach the Scythe’s secret lair. All I have to do is shimmy up an old drainage ditch, scramble through the sewers a bit, and then do a secret knock on an access door to the old water treatment plant. The only good part about this journey is that the sewers haven’t been used in a hundred years or so, so the trip doesn’t smell too disgusting.

  But yeah, it reeks enough.

  Once I’m inside the old underground water treatment plant, that’s where things get cool. The Scythe has pounded through a quarter mile of earth to reach the lower levels of an old power station. This particular building was a hub of an internet mainline back in the United Americas. Now, the Scythe uses it for his extensive information retrieval business (read: blackmail). I knock on the main door, which is made of thick metal with a thin opening up top for the guard to look through.

  Sure enough, a pair of beady blue eyes peers at me through the door. “Who is it, ya?” This is Farmer Fritz, who is the Scythe’s bouncer and general heavy.

  “It’s Meimi.”

  “You vant something?”

  I want to tell him to skip the fake German accent, but there isn’t time for our usual banter. “I’ve got a situation, Fritz. Science crime, and it’s…” I check my watch. “Eleven thirty. I need help.”

  “Ya, ya, vee help.” Fritz pulls open the door, revealing a concrete chamber with a low ceiling. Wooden benches line the floor. People are waiting everywhere, all of them miserable. There’s a guy in rags shaking for his next fix. An older woman with a young girl on her lap. Some folks even wear uniforms with the insignia of the Authority on their chests. Every time I step into this room, the same chilly thought freezes my blood.

  With so many government people asking the Scythe for favors, I wonder how close this guy is to the Authority. I shake the thought off and follow Fritz across the room. The Scythe is a mystery I can solve another day.

  A skinny guy in a fancy business suit stands up. “Why does she get to go first?”

  “Don’t ask questions.” Farmer Fritz is a huge man who wears green overalls and speaks in a fake German accent. His right arm is hydraulically enhanced; that was a gig Chloe and I did for him six months ago. He accentuates his last point by smashing his right first directly into the concrete wall.

  And—boom—the business guy sits right back down.

  Farmer Fritz opens one of the metal portal-style doors on the opposite wall of the room. He leads me inside his office, which is a refurbished utility closet. It fits a small desk, a wobbly chair, and not much else. Most of my deals are done here. I slip onto the chair and wait for Farmer Fritz to position his bulk behind the huge table.

  “How are you, little girl?” All trace of the fake
German accent is gone. Fritz and I have talked about it before. He believes that people expect his German act in order to be sufficiently frightened. I like that he shows some small sliver of his real self to me. Sad to say, but Fritz is the closest thing I have to a father in my life.

  “You know me, Fritz. I’m in trouble.”

  He chuckles. “I’m sure you are.” He glances at his tabletop, which is one huge touch monitor. “It’s now 11:40 a.m. You’re coming to me with a science crime and all of twenty minutes to cover it up.”

  “I also mouthed off to one of my teachers. I need you to shut up Camp Leader Dave for me again.”

  “No problem. He’s late on payments. Gives me something else to talk to him about.” He narrows his eyes. “Out with it. What class of science crime are we looking at here? Minor infraction? Major felony?”

  “I worked the drift with my mother.”

  Fritz shakes his head. “No, Meimi. That stuff makes you an enemy of the state. They torture enemies of the state before executing them.”

  “The factory slipped into two-dimensional space-time for a few seconds.”

  Fritz presses some buttons on the top of his desk. “Did you hear that, boss?”

  My stomach seems to tumble through the floor. Fritz has been transmitting our conversation to the Scythe.

  A crackle sounds over the intercom. A deep, silky voice fills the small room. “Bring her in.”

  My eyes widen so much, I’m surprised they don’t pop out of my head. “Was that the Scythe?”

  “You know it was, Meims.”

  “He wants to see me?” I’ve met the Scythe once, when I first started doing freelance work for his organization. All I remember him is that he’s tall, dark, handsome, and—most of all—scary as hell.

  “Come along, there’s no getting around it now.” Fritz rocks on his heels, his ice-blue eyes alight with excitement. That’s not a look I’ve seen on him before. “Two-dimensional space-time. Unbelievable.” He whips open a drawer in his desk and pulls out a black sack with a flourish. “You know the rules. Put this on.”

  I slip the hood over my head. It blocks out any view of the outside world and smells like bad breath and smoke. Fritz leads me around for about ten minutes or so. All the while, my heart pounds against my rib cage.

  “Fritz, I need to do this deal by twelve o’clock, or I’ve got to grab my mother and run. I can’t be waiting around when I’m declared an enemy of the state.”

  His heavy hands press on my shoulders. “Sit.”

  I plunk down onto the softest leather seat that my backside has ever touched.

  There’s the clink of ice cubes in a glass, followed by a low chuckle. I know those noises. The Scythe is perpetually holding a glass of whiskey. And that laugh? It’s smooth as silk and terrifying as lightning.

  “You can remove the hood,” says the Scythe.

  Fritz pulls the cloth from my head. I find myself sitting in a posh office, like something you see in contraband magazines from two hundred years ago, like The Beautiful Life or United We Stand. Plus, everything in here is sleek black and stainless steel. There’s a wide desk, and behind that desk sits Mister Tall, Dark, and Terrifying. It’s his eyes, I decide. There’s no emotion in them. I have the sensation that he could just as easily shoot me as help me.

  That’s probably the truth.

  “Leave us, Fritz.”

  I sense more than see Fritz depart from the room. A long pause follows where I get another look at my employer. His black suit is clearly well tailored and paired with a black shirt and indigo tie. There’s dark scruff along his chin, and his longish hair is perfectly tousled. He looks like something out of a magazine, too. Everything is so perfect, it’s fake. It’s as if he’s the illustration for “Successful Adult Male” magazine.

  The Scythe takes a long sip of whiskey. “You’ve gotten yourself into a spot of trouble, Meimi Archer.”

  “I know how the reporting systems work. You must stop the Authority from finding out about my little slip-up.” I glance at my watch. Nervous energy careens through my limbs. “We’ve got twelve minutes.”

  “Shifting an entire factory into two-dimensional space-time is more than a slip-up. That’s going to be a tough science crime to hide.”

  My palms turn slick with sweat. “But you can hide it, right?”

  “I have contacts in the science crime department who can bury this for me, yes. Everyone owes me favors, Meimi. But I need something very specific in return.”

  “Name it.”

  “Make me a prototype for opening corridors to other dimensions.”

  My mouth falls open before I think to close it again. “Drift voids. You want to create drift voids.” The Scythe has never asked me to do something this big before.

  “Precisely. Visible drift voids.”

  “There are systems that already do this. I heard there’s a lab on the west coast that got a spiral frac to show up on a door or something. I can get you their address.”

  Please, let him be happy with the name of a lab somewhere else.

  The power to create drift voids isn’t something the Scythe should have, let alone whoever his client is. Right now, it’s bad enough that you can touch a random drift void and cause trouble somewhere else. But if someone could focus that power? You could set up a drift void in your office that could cause an enemy to fall over dead, and that’s just for starters. I’m not a criminal mastermind. There are a ton of terrible things people could do with this technology.

  I slap on a hopeful smile. “Do you have a handheld? I can type the address in for you.”

  “I’m aware of that lab. They used an entire lab of equipment to create one measly spiral frac. I want a drift void, Meimi. What you did this morning. Visible. On demand. I have a number of parties who’d be interested.”

  Fritz has told me about the people they deal with, everyone from black ops government agencies to mindless thugs. “If I make this for you, then it’s for one-time use. I’m not giving you a weapon to resell.”

  “One time use,” repeats the Scythe. His eyes glint in the dim light. “Can you do it?”

  An image appears. I picture the monoliths in Mom’s lab—this is the same equipment we used to create the drift void this morning. Mom won’t be using this stuff anytime soon. I tap my chin and think through scenarios. If I replace the monolith that fried out, then the Scythe can have that new set and make his own circle, just like Mom did. “I can do it. There’s some equipment I can get you.”

  “How long will it take to make a working prototype?”

  I purse my lips and think. There’s no magnetic storm, but I’m not sure I need one now that I’ve seen my magnetic enhancer in action. That thing worked like gangbusters. I run some calcs in my head. “I could get it for you by midnight tonight. And it’ll generate one small visible drift void.” Plus, I can build it so my enhancer will fry out once it’s used. This is perfect.

  The Scythe stares at me, his flinty eyes glimmering the darkness. “Midnight tonight is acceptable.”

  I slump with relief. “Excellent. I’ll pack up the equipment for you. These monoliths are pretty huge, so you’ll need to get me a moving van and—” I start to rise from the chair, anxious to get back to the door and Fritz.

  “Ah, ah, ah. There are more specifications we need to discuss. The device you create must be portable. Specifically, something that fits in this.” He sets a black briefcase onto his tabletop.

  “Portable? I said moving van. A briefcase is not possible.”

  “You always say that to Fritz, and then you always deliver.”

  Something in his tone makes my blood boil. “I could just find my own buyers, you know.”

  The Scythe chuckles again. “You’ll end up dead or enslaved in twenty-four hours flat. The people who buy contraband drift science aren’t nice folks, Meimi. And the only legal buyer is the government. They’re worse than I am.” He finishes his drink and sets down the empty glass. “Face it. You ne
ed me far more than I need you.”

  I rake my hands through my hair and think things through. This is crazy. Drift voids on demand? I can do it, but I’d have to rebuild and repurpose one of my new magnetic enhancers. That won’t be easy.

  It is possible, though.

  “Three minutes to decide, Meimi.”

  “Give me a sec, will you?” I don’t mean to snap at the guy. Let’s be honest—he holds my mother’s life in his hands. What would happen to Mom if I die or go to prison? In a flash, the pieces of the plan appear in my mind. I lean back in the chair and let out a long breath.

  “Can you build it?” he asks.

  “If I asked my friend Chloe to help, it would go faster.”

  “Only you on this job.”

  I scrub my hands over my face. “Here’s what I can do. You’ll get a device that fits in this briefcase. After you turn it on, my device will create one drift void after twenty-fours of powering up. The briefcase will be sealed to explode if you try to open it beforehand, so tell your buyer not to bother. Once you hit the Go button, the drift void will eventually appear in one specific time and place for exactly sixty seconds. After that, the device will self-destruct. That’s it.”

  “That’s very limited.”

  “It’s all you’re getting. I told you before—I’m not giving you the tools to destroy the world. You’re getting the equivalent of a one-time magic trick.”

  The Scythe stares into his whiskey for long moment. The hint of a smile rounds his mouth. “I agree to your conditions. Point the device at your high school. You hate it anyway, so if anything goes wrong and you slip it into another dimension, c’est la vie. Plus, you can always choose an hour when no one is there.”

  Every time I think we’ve come to a deal I can live with, the Scythe changes things. It’s making me crazy, but I guess that’s the affect he’s going for. I throw up my hands. “What’s wrong with pointing my device at a garbage dump? Why do I have to focus this thing on my high school? I need to go there, you know.” I gesture in the general direction of his head. “This is a terrible idea.”