'It's an anti-channel-surfing device. A TV that chooses the perfect show for you based on your mood. He's seeing if he can trick it by faking.'
The guy burst into tears again but the movie onscreen stayed the same.
'It's High School Musical,' Melody said. 'I can understand why he's crying.'
'It's a cool idea. Is he gonna sell it?' I asked.
'There're only two rules here,' she said. 'One is that you can't sell or mass-produce anything you develop. One-off items only. The Hive's about stretching your creativity, not your bank balance.'
'What's the other rule?' I asked.
We arrived at the double doors where we'd come in. We both looked up to the second floor and Gatt motioned for Melody to get rid of me.
'We've got to hook up before you leave New York,' she said. 'But swear to me you won't say anything about this place, okay? That's the other rule: you don't talk about The Hive.'
I was a coolhunter. This place was deeply cool. And she wanted me to keep quiet about it?
'How do I get involved?' I asked. 'I'd love to work on something here, even if it's just for a few days. I'd love to talk shop with the rest of the dudes. How do I get to stay? Maybe I can talk to Joe and –'
'You'd better go,' she said. 'Make sure you drag the canoe right up the bank and cover it over.'
'Can you just tell me what the car thing is? Why's it called Perpetual?'
'I could tell you but I'd have to kill you,' she said, serious.
I looked at her.
'Kidding,' she said. 'Sort of.'
'Please,' I said. 'I swear I won't say anything.'
Melody bit her lip and looked behind her. Gatt had disappeared.
'Tell anyone, even your dog, and you're gone,' she said.
'I don't have a dog,' I said.
'You know what I mean.'
'Scout's honour,' I said.
'Are you a scout?' she asked, surprised.
'No.'
'It's a perpetual motion machine,' she whispered. 'Now go!' She pushed the door open, I stepped out, and she slammed it shut.
I stood there for a second, staring at the door. A machine that would run forever without fuel? Was she for real? Paul and I had tried to build a perpetual motion machine as a fourth-grade assignment and we'd blown the thing up and burnt a big hole in his bedroom carpet. Paul reckoned it was impossible to create an actual perpetual motion machine. It couldn't be done.
I jumped into a canoe and started paddling back to shore in a post-Hive daze. I thought about the skates, the glove, the USB solar thing, the weird anti-surfing device. And Perpetual. Part of me was desperate to be a swarm member. The other part knew I had to hunt The Hive.
17
The Real World
'You're lying.'
It was five in the afternoon, we were in the downstairs lounge area of our hotel room and I'd hit Paul with the whole story, all in one stream. Marshmallow fluff, the train ride, the park, the canoes, The Hive, Joe Gatt, the inventions and Perpetual.
'Do you think I'm lying?' I asked.
'Well, it sounds like a lie but then you're not acting like you're lying. But even if you actually went to this place, the most exciting thing about it is the perpetual motion machine that blew up while you were there and, hello, we both know it's not possible to make one.'
I was sitting on the couch, feet on coffee table. Paul was pacing up and down in front of the giant glass windows, the sun getting low over the ocean of skyscrapers behind him.
'She reckons they're trialling it in a couple of days and I want to be there.'
'Mac, it's not possible to create a machine that keeps going forever, that puts out more energy than you put in. Friction is always gonna slow it down. It defies the first law of thermodynamics!'
'I know, you've told me that, but if anyone ever does it, won't it, like, solve global warming or something?'
'Free fuel? Unlimited energy? Are you kidding me? It'll save the freakin' world!'
He was working himself into a frenzy now.
'Why wasn't I there?' he asked.
'Peanut allergy,' I said.
'Ha ha.'
'We have to put this up on the site,' I told him.
My phone rang. It was Speed.
'But didn't she say you couldn't tell anyone?' Paul said.
I hit 'answer'.
'Hello?'
'What up, guv?' Speed said.
'Hey,' I said.
'What've you got for me?' he asked.
All I'd actually shot that day was a minute's footage in the peanut butter sandwich joint and The Tickle Shop, both of which now seemed way lame compared to The Hive.
'Well ...' I said.
'Yes?' He waited for me to go on.
I looked at Paul. 'Can I give you a call back?' I said. 'I'm just in the middle of something.'
'Don't be long. I want to hear what you're putting up.'
'Yeah, sure. I think it's gonna be good,' I said.
I hung up.
'Did you shoot this place?' Paul asked.
I looked at him.
'Nothing?' he said.
'No, but ...'
'Well, that's probably good. It sounds like this Gatt dude would finish you. And the perpetual motion machine sounds cool but it's not true and it ain't worth dying for.'
'We came to New York to hunt cool,' I said. 'I've just lifted the lid on the coolest thing ever. You think it could bust science wide open and save the world, and you're prepared to walk away?'
'But you said that's one of the rules: you don't talk about The Hive,' he said.
'Rules, schmules. We're not being paid to keep promises. We're being paid to dish the goods.'
'Are you for real?' Paul asked.
'I've been dreaming my whole life of coming to New York and making it somehow. I might never come back here, so this is my one shot and I'm prepared to take some risks to make it happen.'
'But –'
'I say we do, like, a video diary thing, talking about what we saw at The Hive.'
'We?' Paul asked.
'Yes, "we",' I said.
'How about we put The Tickle Shop up instead?' Paul suggested.
'You hated The Tickle Shop!'
'It had a certain charm,' he said.
'You really don't want to keep this job, do you?' I asked him. 'You're desperate to be back hacking kebab meat off the rotisserie and cleaning the crispy bits out of the fryer at Taste Sensation.'
'I just don't want these Hive guys chasing us with metal bars like the skater dudes. And didn't you say Gatt had tattoos?'
'Yes, but tattoos aren't alive. They can't hurt you,' I said.
We argued for a while. Paul caved. I stuck my phone on top of a chest of drawers upstairs. Paul sat on the end of the bed, looking into the lens.
'You ready?' I asked.
'I guess.'
'Just don't mention Perpetual or the name of the place, OK?' I said. 'We'll be kind of vague on the details. It'll be fine.'
I hit record and sat down next to him.
Me: We have just found the coolest thing in New York.
Paul: Yeah.
Me: Somewhere in the city, there's this group of
kids who are inventors. [I nudge Paul.]
Paul: Yeah, and they're creating all this stuff: new technology, clothes, ways to get around.
Me: Incredible ways to get around. It's way more cutting edge than anything you've seen. And they're our age! But the stuff they invent is just for them. They're only allowed to create one-offs. Which means you can't get it. But this stuff is awesome. Like the skates we saw.
Paul: Anyway, we're not giving too much away right now.
Me: But we will tell you they're working out of a warehouse somewhere in Manhattan. So stay tuned over the next few days. We'll be going undercover to bring you the best of the best from The Hive.
I got up to cut the camera.
'I thought you weren't supposed to say "The Hive",' Paul said.
So we did. I edited the piece in the phone and uploaded it to the site. Paul had made me feel slightly nervous but what was the chance of anyone from The Hive being a Coolhunters subscriber? He forced me to stick The Tickle Shop up, too. He was kind of hoping it'd be a bigger hit than The Hive vlog and we could leave Gatt and the Swarm alone.
At eleven, before we went to bed, we checked the site on my phone. You usually had a pretty good idea if something was hot or not within the first few hours of putting it up. We checked the Tickler first.
Five people had watched it.
Then we scoped the numbers on The Hive teaser.
Seventeen thousand hits in five hours.
Speed had shot me a message.
good numbers, lads. but it's a big promise. when's the next instalment?
tickle shop? horrible. dirty.
don't let me down. clock's ticking. you need to deliver on this promise tomorrow.
s
I logged out, turned to Paul and said, 'We're going back up there.'
18
Return To The Hive
It was 8:07 a.m., Sunday. We'd tried to Dawg Find Melody early, but her phone was off or she'd gone Phantom, so we caught the A Train. My dad came with us and jumped off near the Empire State. It gets struck by lightning a hundred times a year and Dad figured he could learn something for his lightning farm back home.
The hit-count on The Hive teaser was off the hook – up to forty-something-thousand overnight. We had hits from Iceland, Greece, Fiji and Argentina. I couldn't believe that people wanted to watch something that didn't actually say anything. They didn't even know about Perpetual.
I sat there playing with the video functions on my phone. I was determined to shoot something that day at The Hive even though Paul had other ideas.
'What if we want to join them, rather than cash in on them?' Paul asked.
'Okay, just say something,' I said, pointing my phone at him. 'I want to test the audio.'
'Last stop, Inwood–207th Street,' came the announcement over crusty speakers.
As I led the way up through Inwood Hill Park the clouds seemed to crowd in not far above the tops of the trees. Paul stopped to read a plaque.
'Hey, says here that this was the main Manhattan Indian village and that some dude bought the island from the Native Americans for a bunch of trinkets and beads right here on this spot.'
'Sounds like a good deal,' I said sarcastically.
'For who?' he asked.
When we reached the view at the top of the hill we stood for a minute and got our breath. It was Huck Finn country up there, or like the quiet parts in the hills around Kings Bay. The river had thick fog hanging over it. I couldn't even see the Jersey shore. We charged on downhill and, pretty soon, the boatshed came into view. I put a hand out to slow Paul and I scanned to see if there was anyone around before we continued down the hill.
I pulled the branches off two canoes and started dragging them to the shoreline. I was looking all around, along the waterfront and back up the hill when I saw a flicker of red coming through the trees and down the track.
'Quick,' I said, grabbing Paul, pulling him by the jumper up past the boatshed and behind some scraggly bushes on the waterfront. We sat there and watched. I waited for the person to jog right past but they didn't. It was a tall guy with a checked shirt, a red vest, a shaved head and a Yankees cap slightly off-centre.
'That's Joe Gatt,' I said to Paul, heart thumping.
Gatt made it to the canoes and saw they were uncovered. He looked around, not happy. I pushed Paul's head lower.
'His tats are –'
'Ssssshhh,' I whispered.
Joe dragged one canoe up the bank, covering it up, then he jumped into the other. As he did, Paul's phone rang. Loud. Joe looked up. The ring went on and on as Paul wrestled it out of his pocket, my heart beating harder with every verse. When he finally had the phone out, rather than turn it off like any normal human, he answered it!
'Hey Mum,' he whispered.
I couldn't believe this guy.
'No, I'm in a library. Can I call you back later?'
A pause while he listened.
'Just doing some research,' he said and waited. I looked at him like I was ready to kill him.
'Yeah, we had eggs and stuff at the hotel.'
I poked my fingers into my eyes, not believing what I was hearing.
'I have to go, Mum. Bye. Librarian's coming,' he said, and hung up.
I peered out through the undergrowth. Gatt was gone.
I gave Paul a dead arm and took my first breath for what felt like about four minutes.
'Owwwww. Sorry,' he said, grabbing his arm. 'But she scares me more than he does. What do we do now?'
'We wait a minute and then we go in.'
'Maybe we shouldn't,' he said.
'Don't be a loser. I promise there are no peanuts in there.'
'The guy was a hip-hop promoter and his biceps are thicker than my legs,' Paul said. 'Maybe we should ask before we film in there? Like we should have asked at the half-pipe.'
I didn't respond. I knew he was right, but I could hardly see Melody and Gatt throwing open their doors to us if they knew we were going to shoot. And we had a deadline.
We waited for five minutes, jumped a canoe, hit the dock and I gave 'the knock'.
19
Meet Joe Gatt
'You sure you got it right?' Paul asked.
'I dunno. Maybe not,' I said. I was nervous as hell. It felt like only a few hours since I'd been chucked out of The Hive and here I was, back again, working undercover this time. Was I an idiot?
We were standing on the narrow timber deck outside the boatshed. It had just started raining. A massive container ship cruised through the fog that was hanging over the water. We huddled in close to the building.
'Maybe knock louder,' Paul said.
So I tried again to remember the knock.
We waited.
'Oh, well. No one home. Let's go,' Paul said.
I was tempted to jump back in the canoe when a bolt shifted on the other side of the door. It opened a crack and Melody's face appeared.
'Hey-y-y-y,' I said. 'How you doin'?'
Melody squeezed through the gap.
'What are you doing here?' she said in a sharp whisper, pulling the door shut behind her. She glared at Paul.
'Coming to say hi,' I said.
'Well, that's not OK,' she said. 'You should've called.'
'Your phone was off.'
'Well, it's really not all right for you to come here.'
It felt bad being rejected by her.
'Really?' I said. 'But you made me come here yesterday.'
'I know. But I got in a lot of trouble. Joe's all freaky about new people coming at the moment. He's totally paranoid. You didn't tell this guy what I told you about the thing, did you?' she said, motioning to Paul.
'No,' I lied. Man, I was really making a habit of this.
'Just call me next time, OK?' she said, backing up inside. 'I'll meet you downtown before you leave.'
'Hang on a sec,' I said, jamming my hand in the door before it closed. 'Let me talk to Joe. Paul and I are cool. You know that. We make stuff ourselves. And, I told you, we can totally keep a secret.'
Maybe this was what people were talking about when they said someone was a compulsive liar.
'We just want to be a part of this,' I said. 'I swear I can talk anyone into anything. Just let me speak to him. If he spins out I'll tell him we forced our way in, threatened to bust your chops.'
That made her laugh. 'My chops?' she said, looking at me for a long moment. 'Wait here a second.'
I started rehearsing what I was going to say to Gatt. I'd kind of worked it out the night before but now it was all mashed up inside my head.
Melody was back in under a minute. 'Knock yourselves out,' she said, ope
ning the door for us.
We stepped inside. There weren't as many kids there. Seven or eight. A couple of them were covering up Perpetual on the second level. I caught a glimpse of the fighter jet front. I could see Joe Gatt sitting cross-legged up on the second floor. He looked like he was meditating.
Once Perpetual was covered my eyes drifted around The Hive. It felt like a giant version of our workshop back in Kings Bay. Except ours had a dirt floor. And a smashed window. And it was kind of falling down. In fact, there weren't that many similarities. But both places smelt like good ideas. You could just feel there was something exciting going down there. I looked at Paul. He was standing slightly behind me and I could see the words 'Create or Die' reflected in his glasses. He had the same look that I'd had on my face the day before.
We followed Melody, making a beeline for the stairs. A few of the kids working on stuff looked at us as we went by. A Hispanic girl with yellow-framed glasses that I'd seen yesterday was painting gold birds on a giant red canvas. She smiled at us.
'Just wait here,' Melody said when we reached the bottom of the stairs. She climbed the flight and disappeared. Paul and I looked around.
'What do you think?' I asked him.
'Is that a ...?'
At that moment a girl went soaring down a flying fox from the second floor to the door where we'd come in. She pushed the door open and disappeared outside.
'What was that about?' Paul asked.
'Dunno. I bags first go, though,' I said.
'I'm second,' Paul said quickly, as though there was someone else there who could have got in before him.
'Guys,' Melody called from the top of the stairs.
I took a deep breath. 'Good luck.'
We made it to the top and there was Gatt, sitting on a yoga mat. I noticed he had tattoos on his knuckles, too. He was next to a white desk with a computer screen that was so thin it was almost invisible. There was a small, transparent keyboard in front of the screen. There were neatly clipped images of futuristic-looking vehicles on a notice board. The 'Create or Die' sign was written large on the wall behind him.
'Sup?' Joe asked, not opening his eyes.
'Baddha Konasana,' I said. Paul frowned at me. Gatt opened his eyes.
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