“Where is he?”
Lenard tilted his head and widened his smile. “In Jitwan, India, of course. His face appears in much of the video featuring the CMI geniuses as they work on a water purification project.”
“Was Max with them?”
“Yes. However, there is only one clip of her. A snippet, really. I recognized her tangled mop of curly hair immediately. Her security detail, those two special forces operatives we met in Ireland, warned whoever shot that footage to keep Max off camera in the future. So far, they have complied. Now, then, proceed to tell me everything you know about Maxine Einstein. Her past. Her parents. Where she came from. Her birthday. Is she related, in some way, to the famous Dr. Albert Einstein? Is she related to you?”
Dr. Zimm grinned. “Oh, I’ll tell you everything, Lenard. Everything you’ve asked for—and more. But only after we land in India.”
Lenard looked puzzled but he did not protest.
“Very well. You will travel with me to India. As my personal assistant and human psychology consultant.”
“Thank you, Lenard.”
Dr. Zimm smiled. He was back in the hunt.
It was his turn to giggle.
44
It took a week to build, but, finally, Max and her team set up their bubble contraption on the banks of the polluted Narmadavari River, just outside Jitwan.
“Good work, Klaus,” said Max.
“Well, it was really a team effort,” said Klaus. “I mean, once I designed it. That’s when everybody else pitched in. But you’re right. Before that, it was all me. Hey, where’s the documentary lady?” He lovingly patted a metal tank. “This baby is ready for its close-up.”
“I think she was filming in town today,” said Keeto. “As brilliant as your invention is, Klaus, it’s not very visually thrilling.”
“Are you kidding? Look at all those tubes and switches and gizmos!”
“We will need to guard our dissolved-air flotation device twenty-four/seven,” Vihaan said to Charl and Isabl. “Dada tells me that those two gentlemen who threatened us last week are very well connected with all the wrong sort of people. They have much money and power. They control all the Fresh & Pure bottled water vending machines up and down the boulevard. They also have a few corrupt local politicians in their pocket.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll handle security,” said Charl. “You guys focus on solving the water problem.”
“But the packaged-water men will send more enforcers to threaten us,” Vihaan continued. “And our families.”
“You’re worried about what they might do to your grandfather?” Max asked.
Vihaan nodded. “His job is hard enough. I don’t want to make it worse for him.”
“So let’s leave town,” said Toma.
“No,” said Max. “We need to test this unit. If we can clean this water, it will make life easier for your grandfather and the other key men.”
“The one who controls the water will control the town,” muttered Vihaan, catching on.
“We’re almost ready to fire her up,” said Klaus. “I wish that lady was here with her camera.…”
“Dude, you probably shattered her lens,” joked Keeto. “I should be the new CMI spokesperson.”
“Wait,” said Hana. “We’re getting ahead of ourselves. We still need to figure out some sort of filtration system.”
“We also still need to eat lunch,” said Keeto. “I’m starving.”
“You’re right,” said Max. “Let’s take a break. You guys have definitely earned one.”
“Vihaan?” said Klaus, putting down his tools. “Where can we get some more of that spicy Indian spaghetti? That stuff is amazing, even if it is vegetarian.”
Vihaan finally smiled. “I know a place nearby.”
“Then what are we doing here?” said Keeto.
The entire team left the riverbank with Isabl. Charl stayed behind to guard the dissolved-air flotation device.
At the small restaurant Vihaan took them to, the spaghetti was spicy—with chili flakes and spices, like curry, whisked into the tomato sauce. Everyone was twirling their forks and digging in.
Except Max.
“Interesting,” she said.
“You don’t enjoy the spiciness?” asked Vihaan when he noticed that Max wasn’t eating. She was just pushing her noodles around her plate.
“No. It’s great. But look how the sauce seeps through the thinner noodle layers near the plate’s perimeter but not through the thicker pile here at center.”
“I guess,” said Klaus, his mouth full of pasta.
“Spaghetti is a membrane,” said Max, absentmindedly. “If you take this model to the logical extreme, you can densely pack the skinniest possible noodles together… and create a mesh that filters out the tiniest of particles.”
“But,” said Annika, mashing her noodles into a flat mat, soaking up sauce, “if our filter is soaking up all the impurities, it’s eventually going to get clogged.”
“Good point,” said Vihaan. “How can we keep the filters clear, Max?”
She thought about that.
And then she thought about Einstein.
How he won his Nobel prize for his work on the photo-electric effect, which says that light shining on an object gives that object’s electrons energy, causing them to spring off into the space surrounding it.
“Photocatalysis,” said Max.
“You want to take photos of cat tails?” said Klaus.
“Brilliant,” said Vihaan.
“Thanks,” said Klaus.
“No, I mean the photocatalysis idea,” Vihaan continued. “It takes Einstein’s concept of the photoelectric effect but, in this case, the light shining on the object, the catalyst, gives electrons energy that drives chemical reactions.”
“Titanium dioxide!” said Max.
“Indeed!” agreed Vihaan. “TiO2, when activated by light, can break down pollutants into harmless little particles.”
“And,” said Annika, “if we harness the light we need from the sun, there’s no extra energy cost.”
“Our filtering problem is solved!” said Max.
“Hang on,” said Isabl, touching her earpiece. “We have another problem. Down by the river. Charl says our two friends are back. And this time, they brought along a small army.”
45
“We need to give those goons something else to worry about besides our water-cleaning machine!” Max shouted as her team tumbled into their transport van.
“What do you have in mind?” asked Isabl from behind the wheel.
Max, who was riding shotgun, spun around in her seat. “Vihaan?”
“Yes?”
“You say these packaged-water guys run the vending machines in town?”
“Indeed. Any machine labeled ‘Fresh & Pure.’ Those are theirs. The others belong to multinational—”
He was cut off by the van lurching forward. Isabl had just jammed her foot down on the gas.
“I saw one about a block from the river,” she said over the roar of the engine.
“Perfect,” said Max. “We’re going to make it malfunction. Big time. But first, we need to make one quick stop. A grocery store.”
“On it,” said Isabl, tapping the van’s navigation control panel, searching for the closest food market.
“You’re still hungry?” asked Keeto.
“No. We just need to pick up some salt, a newspaper, and a couple jugs of water. Fresh & Pure if they got it.”
“Now you want to buy their water?” said Annika. “I thought you wanted to attack their vending machines.”
“I do,” said Max with a mischievous grin. “Doing it with a jug of their own overpriced water will simply up the irony factor.”
Isabl squealed up to the curb in front of a small grocery shop. Max and Annika dashed in and grabbed the materials they needed for their science prank.
“Mix half a cup of salt for every two liters of water,” Max said when she returned to th
e van with the lukewarm water jugs.
Hana and Keeto took charge of making the salt water.
“You guys,” Max said to Toma and Klaus, “roll these newspapers into funnels. Annika? Hop in. We need to visit that vending machine.”
Max climbed back into the passenger seat. Isabl blasted off.
“Whoa!” shouted Keeto as the van banked through a sharp curve. “Slow down. You’re sloshing the water.”
“Deal with it!” Isabl shouted back as she slammed the van into another hairpin turn. “Time is of the essence. Charl says he can’t hold them off much longer. There are six of them.”
“Seriously?” said Klaus, rolling a sheaf of newsprint into a funnel tube. “I’ve seen Charl take on eight guys at once.”
“These six all have guns,” said Isabl.
“Oh. Okay. That’s different.”
“There!” shouted Annika, who was perched between the two front seats, scanning the horizon. “I see the vending machine.”
Isabl fishtailed the van to a tire-screeching stop.
“Klaus?” said Max, jumping out of the van. “Give me your funnel. Hana? Hand me that jug of salt water.”
“No,” said Hana. “I’m coming with you.”
“Fine. Let’s run.”
The two girls ran to the vending machine. “Shake up your solution,” Max instructed Hana.
Hana jiggled her jug.
Max jammed the tip of the newspaper funnel into the vending machine’s coin slot.
“Pour in the salt water,” Max told Hana. “Straight down this tube.”
“Seriously?” said Hana. “It’ll go inside the vending machine.”
“Exactly,” said Max. “Inside, there’s an electric switch that controls the release of the water bottles. The salt and water, mixed together, have created a mild electrical charge. When that solution washes over the switch, it’ll create a salt bridge. Electricity will rush through it and short-circuit the machine, tripping the bottle-dispensing switch way faster than a fistful of coins.”
“And the machine will start spitting out free bottled water?”
“Until it’s completely empty,” said Max.
“Woo-hoo!”
Hana poured in the water. Max heard something sizzle inside. Smelled a little ozone. Then she heard a ka-thunk followed by more ka-thunks. Water bottles started tumbling out of the machine, bouncing onto the pavement, and rolling downhill.
People waiting in the water tanker truck line with buckets rushed over to grab the free bottles tumbling toward them.
Max and Hana raced back to the van.
“There’s another Fresh & Pure vending machine two blocks that way,” said Isabl, touching her ear. “But hang on. We may not need to hit it. Charl says the water goons just heard about their machine giving away free water. They’re running up to fix it, leaving our bubble machine alone.”
“Good,” said Max. “So let’s switch places with them!”
“On it,” said Isabl. “Buckle up, everybody.” She slammed her foot on the accelerator and shot off down the street toward the riverbank.
She had to lay on her horn to alert the six men running up the street to get out of her way.
The slowest man, the one at the back of the pack, was the one with the mustache.
Science has proven that smoking cigars will definitely make it harder for you to breathe and run at the same time. Especially in high altitudes.
46
After chasing away the bad guys, it took one more day for the team to add all the filtration equipment.
“It’s time to turn this baby on!” cried Klaus.
Ms. James was on hand with her camera to document the big moment. A crowd of villagers had also gathered around the CMI team’s dissolved-air flotation and filtering unit. Many were carrying jugs and buckets. Mr. Banerjee, Vihaan’s grandfather, was standing with them, crossing his fingers, hoping his grandson’s marvelous machine could help make his key man job a little less stressful.
“You guys ready?” asked Max.
“Ready!” shouted the rest of her team.
“Klaus? Flip the switch. Turn on the tap!”
Klaus braced his hand on the valve handle, then looked directly into the lens of Ms. James’s video camera. “This is one small flick of the wrist for man. One giant leap for clean water!”
Max had to laugh. Klaus, the CMI problem child, had turned into one of its most valuable (and entertaining) assets.
He cranked open the water valve. Vihaan and Annika flicked the switches that started sending highly pressurized bubbles fizzing through the “cleaning tank.”
“We have sludge,” reported Hana, as the first waste material was lifted up to the surface.
“Initiate skimming!” cried Keeto.
“Skimming,” said Toma, punching a green button.
“Organic material is entering the gas mill,” said Hana. “Commencing anaerobic digestion. We’re breaking it down in our oxygen-free container. Pretty soon, we’ll be cooking with our own gas!”
“And generating our own electricity!” added Toma.
“Filters are fully functional,” said Annika, who was situated near the spigot at the far end of the unit. “We should have clean, potable water in ten, nine…”
Max and the others joined in the countdown as they watched the water working its way through the pipelines and “noodle” filters.
“… eight, seven, six, five…”
Max nudged Vihaan.
“You get the first drink,” she said.
“Thank you.”
“… three, two, one!”
Vihaan turned the tap. Crystal-clear water flowed into his waiting tin cup.
“Quick,” he said as the water rose up to the rim. “We don’t want to waste a single drop of this. Who has a water jug they’d like to fill?”
The townspeople all stepped forward.
“I guess we better form a line,” said Klaus, with a laugh.
And the people of Jitwan did. A very polite and orderly line.
When Vihaan’s cup was full, an elderly lady at the head of the line placed a rubber bucket underneath the gurgling faucet. Ms. James’s camera moved in for a close-up as Vihaan took a long, refreshing drink.
“Svaadisht!” he shouted. “Delicious!”
The crowd cheered.
The old lady who was waiting for her bucket to fill hugged Vihaan.
“Dhanyavaad!” she said.
“You are most welcome, Dadima.”
“You vandals and hooligans!” The stubby man with the mustache and cigar was back. “You ruined one of our vending machines.”
“Prove it, dude,” said Keeto.
“Leave Jitwan!” growled the man, nearly biting his cigar in half.
“Not until we give these people the fresh, clean water they deserve!” declared Vihaan.
“That is dirty river water!” shouted the older water seller, waving his cane.
“Not anymore,” said Max. “We cleaned it.”
“We shall see about that!” The two men turned on their heels and walked away.
“Good-bye, Fresh & Pure water!” shouted a townsperson. “We don’t need you anymore! We have Vihaan and his friends!”
“Vah!” shouted others.
“Hooray!”
Max was feeling fantastic. She and her team had found another solution to another problem.
But then Charl’s satellite phone start buzzing.
He looked at the screen.
“It’s a video call.”
“Ben calling to congratulate us?” asked Max.
Charl shook his head. “No. It’s Lenard. That robot we met in Ireland. He wants to talk to you.”
47
Isabl motioned for the documentary maker to stop filming.
She did.
Max took the phone from Charl.
“Congratulations, Max,” said the grinning boy-bot, his face filling the phone’s screen. “My new friends in Jitwan tell me you have
completed your water purification project. Well done. Now you are free to come work with me. We’re going to own the quantum computer world.”
“No, thanks.”
“But Dr. Zimm is here, too. He knows so, so much about you.” The automaton giggled. “I know some of it now, too. I must say, you have a very interesting history.”
“Where are you?”
“Very close to where you are.”
“You’re in India?”
“If that’s where you are, Maxine, where else in the world would I want to be?”
“How’d you find us?”
“Through diligence and hard work.”
Max glanced over at Klaus. He turned out his pockets. They were empty.
“I didn’t get a new phone,” he said. “I swear.”
“Dude’s been borrowing mine,” added Keeto.
“It wasn’t Klaus this time,” said Lenard through the satellite phone. “That useful idiot has ceased being, well, useful. So, I did what I do better than any human being on the planet. I sifted through all available online data, and, believe me, there’s a lot. So many sources for me to scan in a nanosecond. I am quite speedy, Maxine. Just imagine what we could do together. Now then, a pair of representatives from the Fresh & Pure water company will happily come escort you to my location.”
“You’re working with them?” said Max.
“Oh, yes. My creators, the Corp, recently acquired their water-packaging business. Therefore, they now work for us.”
“Is Dr. Zimm with you?”
“Yes. But purely in an advisory capacity. He’s here to answer all your questions. Who you are. Where you came from. I understand you are quite interested in ascertaining that information.”
The offer, of course, was tempting. If Dr. Zimm really knew all he claimed to know, then Max might, finally, figure out… everything. Max had spent her whole life wondering who she was, where she came from, why her last name was Einstein. Dr. Zimm was the only person she’d ever met who promised to answer all those questions. Someone else could take over the lead at the CMI. Max could go back to her true mission: finding out who she was meant to be in this world.
Rebels With a Cause Page 12
