Hawking's Hallway

by Neal Shusterman

  “Yeah,” said Zak. “You out-Tesla’d Tesla!”

  Nick grinned at that, but he was filled with mixed emotions. Deep down he knew he had Tesla’s innate genius, but he also knew that he’d never have the man’s all-consuming drive. What must it have been like to go through life as one-seventh of himself? Perhaps it hadn’t just been a hindrance, but also the source of Tesla’s endless passion—a burning need to achieve completion in any way possible.

  As Mitch took another bite from his dripping burger, Caitlin shook her head at him in mock (or real) disgust.

  “You could feed a small nation on that burger, Mitch,” she said.

  To which he responded, “Actually, I’ve already arranged to feed a small nation, so leave my burger out of it!”

  Mitch went on to talk about how his father’s case had been reopened. “If the appeal goes through, he could be out of prison by the end of the month—and since the banks would rather pretend the money doesn’t exist, they won’t testify against him. That gives him a good chance!”

  “But, Mitch,” Nick said gently, “didn’t the Shut Up ’N Listen say your father would never be paroled?”

  Mitch gave Nick a wide, ketchup-rimmed smile. “It said he wouldn’t be paroled, but it never said he couldn’t have his verdict overthrown. Those are two different things.”

  Nick had to admit he was right.

  Mitch went on. “I figured if you could rescue your mom in the past without getting body-slammed by the universe, then I could rescue my dad in the present.”

  Caitlin listened to all of this, but her attention was on Nick. It still amazed her that he had grown five months older in what, in her timeline, was a matter of seconds. With more self-assurance and an easy confidence that wasn’t there before, even with one-seventh missing, he seemed a more complete version of himself. No longer an assemblage of found objects.

  As for her own assemblages, the “garb-art” her art teacher had scorned had earned her admission to the Colorado Springs Academy of the Arts on a full scholarship. She showed her acceptance letter to the others. It was a little bittersweet, because she and Nick would be at different high schools, but that just meant she would savor their after-school time together even more.

  “So how’s your new place?” Caitlin asked him. “Is there an attic?”

  “Nope,” Nick said. “It’s flat-roofed, without so much as a lightning rod, and not a single secret tunnel that I’m aware of.”

  “Hmm,” said Zak. “That’s disappointing.”

  In a way, Nick agreed. On the other hand, he had nothing to complain about at home these days.

  “My dad and Danny are still getting used to my mom being back,” he told them. “My dad keeps calling it a miracle, but it’s not—I mean, you can’t come back from the dead if you were never actually dead to begin with.”

  “Vince was dead,” Mitch pointed out. “Does that make him a miracle?”

  “I guess so,” Nick said. “A miracle of science.”

  “Oh, hey, that reminds me,” said Zak. “There’s something I want to show you. It’s not exactly the dead rising, but it’s just as freaky.” He pulled out his laptop and went to a Wikipedia entry about a Serbian woman named Milica Ninkovic.

  Nick scanned through it. “A women’s rights activist in the 1880s?”

  According to the article, Milica Ninkovic was a journalist who’d founded the most important women’s rights organization in the Balkan Peninsula.

  “What about her?” asked Caitlin.

  Instead of answering, Zak scrolled down to an old-fashioned tintype picture of a woman in a buttoned dress. She had a stern face, as if she was about to start yelling at someone. And her hair was pulled into two perfectly parted braids.

  “Petula?” said Nick.

  “No way!” said Mitch, looking excited and horrified at the same time—which was his usual response to Petula.

  “I didn’t know her very well,” said Zak. “But it sure looks like her to me!”

  There was definitely a strong resemblance. The article went on to say that she once had the honor of meeting Thomas Edison—and proceeded to slap him. If that wasn’t proof, nothing was.

  A sudden buzzing and crackling from outside gently rattled the ceiling of the restaurant. This was followed by a waft or two of ozone. Everyone knew this meant that somewhere in the northern hemisphere the satellite was discharging energy to the F.R.E.E., which would then distribute it randomly over the planet—and rebuild the earth’s ozone layer as an added benefit.

  Mitch finished his burger, and Nick took some fries from the basket, dipped them in ketchup, and offered them to Caitlin, who accepted them with a smile.

  Then the silence began to get awkward—which, after all they’d been through, was unusual. They had begun as unlikely allies and had become the closest of friends. But now their lives had returned to normal. And “normal” had never factored into their relationships.

  “Well,” said Nick, “Vince better get here soon, ’cause I gotta get home. I promised my mom I’d mow the lawn.”

  “They need me beneath the bowling alley,” said Zak.

  “I’ve got to get some art supplies,” said Caitlin.

  “I’m buying an island,” said Mitch.

  Nick couldn’t deny that there was a sense that something was ending. Dissolving. They would always be friends, but never again would they be the crucial elements of something much larger than themselves….

  Then the door of Beef-O-Rama swung open, and Vince stormed in. Was it Nick’s imagination, or was he glowing green? Vince didn’t waste time on small talk. He slammed something on the table in front of them—a rusty cube covered with gears and dials—and said two words:

  “Enrico Fermi.”

  Nick, Caitlin, Mitch, and Zak leaned closer to study the odd contraption. It hummed and buzzed, looking like a puzzle box that begged to be opened. Then Nick turned to Vince with a smile he couldn’t contain, and said:

  “I’m listening.”

  No two writers can produce a three-volume fantasy-action-comedy-adventure story on their own, and there are many people who deserve our thanks.

  First, our team at Disney Hyperion, led by our brilliant editor, Stephanie Lurie; and everyone who helped with publicity, book tours, and conference appearances, including Jamie Baker, Dina Sherman, Mary Ann Zissimos, Heather Crowley, and Elena Blanco. We also owe a great deal to our amazing agent, Andrea Brown, and our incredible foreign rights agent, Taryn Fagerness.

  A heartfelt thanks to director Jonathan Judge, who saw the cinematic potential of these books, and to DisneyXD for seeing it too!

  We knew our story would only work if it were grounded firmly in reality. We looked to countless books and articles, particularly the recent biographies Tesla: Inventor of the Electrical Age by W. Bernard Carlson and Edison and the Rise of Innovation by Leonard DeGraaf. We were privileged to hear a discussion between the two biographers, courtesy of an invitation from Jacques Lamarre, Director of Communications and Special Programs at the Mark Twain House and Museum.

  We would also like to thank Jane Alcorn, President of the Tesla Science Center, who invited us to tour the site of Wardenclyffe Tower and Tesla’s laboratory in Shoreham, New York, which will open in the future as a science museum dedicated to Nikola Tesla.

  A grateful shout-out to all the teachers, students, booksellers, and fans who supported the book tours, and a special thanks to our families, who continued to put up with us long after our minds were filled to distraction with character arcs and teslanoid objects.

  And finally, we’d like to thank two geniuses: Stephen Hawking, whose book A Brief History of Time has filled both of us with awe for years; and, of course, Nikola Tesla himself, whose vision and tireless persistence will always be a source of inspiration.

  NEAL SHUSTERMAN is the author of more than thirty books for young readers, including the best-selling Unwind and Skinjacker trilogies, and the critically acclaimed Challenger Deep. As a screen an
d TV writer, Neal created scripts for the Goosebumps and Animorphs TV series, and he wrote the Disney Channel Original Movie Pixel Perfect. He co-wrote Tesla’s Attic and Edison’s Alley, the first and second books in the Accelerati Trilogy, with Eric Elfman. Neal has two grown sons and lives with his two daughters in Southern California. For more information go to www.storyman.com.

  ERIC ELFMAN is a screenwriter, a professional writing coach, and the author of several books for children and young adults, including The Very Scary Almanac and The Almanac of the Gross, Disgusting & Totally Repulsive; three X-Files novels; and two books of scary short stories, Three-Minute Thrillers and More Three-Minute Thrillers. He has sold screenplays to Interscope, Walden Media, Revolution, and Universal Studios. He lives in Brandywine Canyon, California, with his wife and son. Visit his Web site at www.elfmanworld.com.