My Cousin is a Time Traveller

by David Solomons

  As Serge explained his theory I noticed the expression on Dina’s face turn increasingly doubtful.

  “When you say this theory has long been speculated,” she said, “that’s only by you, right?”

  “Oui.”

  “Well, you’re right about travelling beyond the speed of light, but the way Servatron got here was using a particle collider.”

  I knew that was a machine like the Large Hadron Collider, which crashed atoms together to discover the secrets of the universe. Servatron had apparently adapted it for time travel. I glanced nervously over my shoulder, half expecting to see a hulking great washer-dryer lumbering along the corridor.

  “So where is the machine in question?” said Serge.

  “Not out in the open. It will disguise itself,” said Dina. “The Servatron 2000 series is controlled by a powerful Artificial Intelligence. Every time you wash your clothes the machine learns more about them. Where to direct the detergent to combat the heaviest soiling, how much to alter the axis of spin to reduce creasing—”

  “How to take over the world,” I added.

  “Exactly,” said Dina. “It’s the AI that learns. The thinking part of the system. Which means the whole machine doesn’t have to travel back in time, just its brain.”

  It was an evil operating system.

  “Servatron could be in any electronic device,” said Dina. “We must tread warily.”

  We’d reached our destination. It was the worst possible place in school that Zack could be while being hunted by a rogue domestic appliance AI.

  “Food and nutrition,” I said, gesturing to the classroom door.

  Inside, pupils wearing stripy aprons and insulated gloves shuttled baking trays laden with cake mixture between worktops and ovens. An indeterminate whiff hung in the air, as if the memory of every burnt cottage pie and overcooked pasta bake had seeped into the walls. There were six large workstations, each incorporating a food preparation section with an integrated oven and hob. Along the back wall ran a long counter, on which sat a range of appliances, including two bulky food processors and a microwave. In the centre of the adjacent wall stood a glossy white refrigerator, its surface covered in a jumble of colourful magnetic letters. For now the appliances were behaving normally, but I suspected it wouldn’t be long before Servatron’s search reached the classroom.

  “There he is,” said Dina, spotting Zack.

  Like his classmates he wore an apron and oven gloves, and on his head perched a white peaked cap. As yet he hadn’t seen us, focused as he was on his task. He crouched down and slid a baking tray into his oven.

  “Yes?” The class teacher, Miss Byrne, addressed us through a haze of flour. It was like her own personal cloud and seemed to follow her everywhere.

  “We’re here for Zack Parker, miss,” said Dina.

  At the mention of his name he looked up. I could see him silently question what his cousin was doing here, but when he noticed me standing next to Dina his curiosity turned to annoyance.

  “Mr Hines wants to see him right away,” Dina continued. “It’s about an award.”

  Miss Byrne was bound to fall for that one since Zack was always winning stuff. She excused him immediately.

  “Oh well. On your way then, Zack.”

  Zack glowered at us across the classroom. “But my sponge just went in the oven.” I could tell that his annoyance with me was building into something more explosive. “Miss, don’t you think it odd that Mr Hines would send someone to fetch me in the middle of a lesson?”

  A food blender whirred, as did Miss Byrne’s mind. “Now that you mention it, the timing is a little strange.” Thankfully, she was immediately distracted by one of Zack’s classmates with a soggy bottom.

  “What’s the award?” Zack quizzed me loudly.

  What was he playing at? Surely he understood that this was a ploy to get him out of class. I shuffled to his side and said in a low voice, “Most Likely to be Hunted Down by an Evil AI.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Give me a break, Luke. I’m finished with all that stuff. I’m out of the hero business, remember?”

  At the back of the classroom, a microwave pinged.

  “Servatron is here,” said Dina grimly.

  “Hello, Dina,” said Zack in a bored tone. “Haven’t seen you since Christmas. You gave me a tie. So this is … weird.”

  She grabbed his arm. “Zack, we have to get you out of here. Now!”

  PING! PING! PING!

  As the microwaves went crazy the food mixers began to spin up, their blades turning so rapidly that the heavy devices vibrated and bounced across the counter. The whole class stopped what they were doing to stare at the jiggling machines.

  Serge wiped a hand across his brow. “Did it just get hot in here?”

  He was right. The temperature in the classroom had shot up. I glanced at the digital temperature display on Zack’s oven, which registered a sudden spike. There was something else too. A burning smell invaded my nostrils.

  “My sponge!” Zack wailed, darting for the oven to rescue his cake. He tugged at the door but it wouldn’t open.

  “Look!” cried Serge, pointing a trembling finger across the room.

  The jumble of magnetic letters was moving across the outside of the refrigerator door, as if pushed by invisible hands. Before our eyes the letters rearranged themselves into a word.

  CURTAINS.

  That was less a threat, and more a washing programme. But then more letters slid into place until they formed a chilling phrase.

  CURTAINS 4 ZACK.

  I watched my brother’s expression turn to dismay and confusion.

  Black smoke coiled from the edges of the oven door in front of which he crouched. Across the classroom the same thing was happening at the other ovens. As the internal temperatures continued to climb they shook in their housings, metal joints squeaking. I knew what was about to happen.

  “They’re gonna blow!” I cried.

  Zack may no longer have been Star Lad, but his protective instincts remained strong.

  “Everyone out!” he shouted.

  He took charge immediately, shepherding his classmates out into the corridor and to safety.

  He and I were the last to exit. Behind us, electric motors straining far beyond their design, the kitchen appliances screeched, furious that their prey was escaping. But just when we thought we were clear, the first oven exploded, turning its door into a missile. The powerful blast shot the metal door across the room, directly towards us. It flew through the air, sizzling hot. There was no way it could miss.

  I flung my arms up to protect myself, but even as I did I knew it was too late.

  Less than a metre from my head the oven door struck an invisible barrier and bounced away, spinning across the floor with a series of clangs. It happened so fast that I wasn’t sure what I’d just witnessed. Zack pushed me out into the corridor and slammed the classroom door behind us. I grabbed his arm and spun him round.

  “That was you,” I whispered.

  He winced and tried to look away, but he couldn’t avoid my searching gaze. At last he gave a tiny nod. And with that, I knew.

  “You’re still Star Lad.”

  Somewhere between the chaos of evacuating the classroom and the fire brigade arriving to investigate the damage, Servatron lost track of us and we made it to the end of the school day unscathed. But we were on borrowed time. The AI had chased Zack down once; it wouldn’t be long before it found him again. He was sufficiently spooked by the near miss in food and nutrition that he agreed to hear Dina out. We all took the bus to the comic shop for the briefing. Claiming our seats on the top deck Serge sat behind Zack and me, while Dina and Lara occupied the ones in front. With things growing more serious by the hour we’d agreed it was essential that Dina be let in on Lara’s secret superhero identity. Now the two of them were chatting like best friends, comparing heroic notes. Lara was telling Dina how she used birds in order to fly, while from what I could make out D
ina was telling Lara how she had helped Leonardo da Vinci construct a flying machine in order to escape from some hooded assassins. I’d always thought that Zack was insufferable, but Dina was shaping up to be the worst name-dropper in history.

  Zack was less talkative, refusing to say any more to me about what I’d seen of his force field power. He stared out of the window as the bus rumbled past the park.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” he said at last. “But I’m not Star Lad.”

  “Uh, I beg to differ,” I said. “It wasn’t Zack Parker who intercepted that oven door missile using his force field power.”

  “That’s not what I mean,” he grumbled.

  I could barely contain my excitement. I gabbled at my brother, “Did Zorbon mess up? Was he unable to remove your powers?”

  Serge leaned forward, propping himself between us. “Or is this all part of some clever long game that Zorbon le Decider is playing?”

  “Oh, he removed my superpowers, all right,” Zack confirmed. “I’ve lost telekinesis and my Star Sense, obviously. Otherwise I would’ve been able to anticipate the attack in the classroom. And that little encounter back there took care of the last of my force field.”

  I thought back to the terrible moment in the tree house when Zorbon had faced Zack. He’d told him, “YOUR POWERS WILL LEAVE YOU AS THEY CAME.” I remembered that in the beginning Zack hadn’t been bestowed with all six powers at once. They had revealed themselves over time: telekinesis, a force field, Star Sense radar, telepathy, breathing in a vacuum, and flight. They were leaving him the same way – one by one.

  “What about your telepathic power?” I thought the words instead of saying them aloud.

  Zack looked at me blankly and for a few seconds I was sure it had gone too, but then he said, “Still got that one. For now.” He gave a small smile and turned to look out of the window again.

  The bus stopped right outside the shop and we disembarked. Christopher Talbot’s cowled figure stood in the window on a short ladder. He was putting the finishing touches to a new display. The front of the shop was now a celebration of Billy Dark’s novel. As well as artfully arranged piles of books, there were also Star Power posters, Star Power bunting and a life-sized Star Power cardboard cut-out. Talbot studied us through suspicious eyes as we went inside.

  “Is that Dina?” said Dad, stepping out from behind the till.

  “I knew we should’ve arranged to meet at the tree house,” I whispered to her. Dina’s presence in Bromley without her parents threatened to raise awkward questions.

  “Relax, cuz,” she whispered back. “I’ve got this.” So saying she rushed up to Dad and threw her arms around him. “How’s my favourite uncle?”

  “Great,” he said. “I didn’t know your parents were in town.”

  “Oh, they’re not,” said Dina. “I’m here with my school. We’re competing against Luke’s at table tennis.” She mimed a backhand and made a popping sound with her lips.

  Dad’s curiosity was satisfied and he went off to help a customer while I led the others through the shop. “The café’s busy this time of day and we need a quiet table where we won’t be overheard.”

  As the four of us reached the top of the stairs Christopher Talbot loomed out of the dark recesses, a stack of Star Power novels balanced in his arms. Dina gasped. Even a seasoned adventurer like her was shocked by his cyborg appearance up close.

  He fixed her with a suspicious stare, his OK-button eye bulging. “I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation,” he said in his scratchy metal voice. “Table tennis, hmm?”

  “Uh, yes,” said Dina. “That’s right.”

  “Shake hands or penhold?”

  “Sorry?”

  “Those are the names of the two most common types of grip. But of course you knew that, being a practised proponent of the ping-pong table.” He gave a short laugh and drifted off. He didn’t seem to notice when one of his Star Power books slid off the top of the stack he was carrying. Lara caught it before it hit the floor.

  “Who was that?” said Dina.

  “Former supervillain, now Dad’s deputy manager,” I explained.

  “He knows you’re lying,” Zack said to Dina.

  She shrugged. “Unless he’s working alongside Servatron, it doesn’t matter. And he isn’t – Servatron doesn’t trust humans. Come on, I have a lot to tell you.”

  Lara hesitated. She was studying the book in her hand. “Remember that call I got over lunch?”

  “The one from the sparrow?” I said.

  “I ended up rescuing this guy who’d ridden his moped halfway off a bridge. He was stuck there, swinging like a seesaw. So I used my Dark Flutter power to summon a flock of birds and we lifted him to safety. The weird thing was that he was ungrateful. He was hoping to be rescued by another superhero.”

  I felt for Lara, I really did. Like me, she’d had to live for so long in the shadow of my brother. “I’m afraid Star Lad’s always been the public’s favourite,” I said.

  “That’s not true,” Zack said, but only half-heartedly, because he knew it was true.

  “You don’t understand,” said Lara. “That’s the weird part. It wasn’t Star Lad he was hoping for – it was Star Power.”

  I experienced a shiver of unease. In the school cafeteria Josh had referred to Star Power as a real person, and now here was Lara’s moped rider doing the same thing. I peered at the book once again. I hadn’t read any more of it since skimming through the opening chapter, but it seemed to exert a powerful influence over those readers who’d made it to the end.

  Dina plucked the book out of Lara’s hands and stuck it on a shelf, saying, “Forget about this Star Power character. We have real problems to deal with.”

  We made our way downstairs to the Fortress of Snackitude. For a brief period this floor had been home to the Dark Flutter petting zoo, but Christopher Talbot had made sweeping changes since his arrival. (Much of it actual sweeping – there had been a lot of fur and old hamster bedding to clear up.) Talbot had a good eye for superhero interior design. When he was in charge of the Crystal Comics empire each store had been spectacularly themed, and he’d brought that skill to bear here. Even though the ceiling was regular height, clever lighting and strategic use of mirrors gave the impression of a soaring space. Blue neon strips ran round the edges of a dozen or so hexagonal tables, uplighting the seated customers with a futuristic glow. The neon strips continued along the serving counter. On the countertop sat a big chrome coffee machine and the wall behind was filled with a bat-shaped mirror.

  On the opposite wall, nearest the stairs, stood a prison cage containing animatronic models of three captured supervillains. They weren’t actual villains from comics, because Talbot said he didn’t want Dad to be sued. He said they were generic, which means they look like lots of comic-book villains, but not too much. So one was a scary clown, the second wore futuristic-looking armour and a black cape, and the third was seven feet tall and reptilian. They were unnervingly well designed and gave me the heebie-jeebies every time I walked by their cackling figures.

  Superhero film scores set the mood, and a searchlight continuously swept the room, beaming the Parker & Sons comic-shop logo on to every surface it touched.

  The place was busy with the usual after-school crowd so we took a table in the quietest corner we could find, next to a couple of older customers. With their Stellar commemorative mugs, tour shirts and out-of-town accents, they were clearly fans who’d come to pay homage to the place where my Evil Twin had made his one and only public appearance. A waitress in a mask and cape, wearing purple boots and superhero spandex, took their order. I could tell from her body language that she wasn’t keen on wearing the outfit, but Talbot insisted that everyone who worked here had to maintain the illusion that this was a superhero hang-out, rather than a shop basement.

  The five of us gathered around the table as Dina brought Zack up to speed on the whole time-travel-Servatron-overthrow-of-the-human-race thing.
With all that had happened lately – from giant asteroids to supervillains – Zack had heard enough doom-laden prophecies that he didn’t dismiss Dina’s fantastic story out of hand. However, he had a question.

  “So what’s all this got to do with me?”

  She was just about to tell him when the waitress slouched over. Her masked face was buried in her order pad and she didn’t look up as she said in a supremely bored voice, “Welcome, brave superheroes, to the Fortress of Snackitude. May I take your order?”

  “Cara?” said Lara, peering up at her.

  The waitress groaned. “Of course you’d be here on my first day,” she said, pushing back her mask to reveal her not-so-secret identity. It was indeed Lara’s big sister, Cara.

  Dina looked up at her with a mixture of surprise and something else. If I had to put a name to what she was feeling I’d say she was starstruck.

  “H-hi, Cara,” stuttered Zack. He always got tongue-tied in her presence.

  “What are you doing here?” asked Lara.

  “What does it look like?” Cara replied. “I’m working.”

  “But you’re only fourteen,” said Lara, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Is that legal? Did Christopher Talbot hire you? Are you a wage slave?”

  “It’s legal,” snapped her sister. “Now, do you want to order or do you want to discuss UK employment law?”

  We gave her our order. When it came to Zack’s turn he made a big deal of consulting the menu and then in this weird voice said, “I’m torn between the Guardians of the Salad Bar and the Poached Eggs-Men. Cara, what do you recommend?”

  “That you tell me what you want, immediately.”

  “I’ll have a hot chocolate,” he said quickly.

  “Five hot chocolates,” Cara confirmed. “What a surprise.” She marched off, adjusting her cape.