Wonderscape

by Jennifer Bell

  The first featured a beefy guy with a leaf-textured Wondercloak, floppy brown hair and easy smile. Arthur recognized him instantly as Milo Hertz. Dressed in another hexagon-patterned Hawaiian shirt, he was lounging in a deckchair with a Hxperion-branded frozen cocktail lifted in one hand. Behind him, sun glittered on the white shores of a paradise island. A slogan at the bottom read: Come for the game, stay for the mai tais!

  The second poster showed a glamorous woman with a sleek red bob and the eerily smooth face of a V-class mimic, strolling past a row of elegant shop fronts. She wore a floaty emerald jumpsuit, a black bow tie with a jade triangle in the centre, and a long silver Wondercloak as reflective as a mirror. Flashing neon vending machines, like the one Newton had used, could be seen in the shop windows, alongside holographic mannequins dressed in a range of historical costumes. Shop while you play! the tag line read. Exclusive access to the most unique retail experience in the Known Universe.

  “If that’s Milo in the first poster, then I reckon this must be his sister, Valeria Mal’fey,” Cecily said. “Newton didn’t tell us that all the V-class mimics have been made in her image!”

  Arthur couldn’t help but squirm. Having thousands of robots drifting around with your face took “selfie” to a whole new level.

  Ren nodded at the third poster, which featured a tall, thin man with the droopy features of a T-class mimic. He wore his long oil-slick Wondercloak over a flowing black tunic with a plus-sign brooch on the lapel. “And that has to be Milo’s older brother, Tiburon Nox. V for Valeria; T for Tiburon.”

  With his spidery fingers steepled together, Tiburon stood in a mahogany-panelled study furnished with leather chairs and antiques. Beside him was a large table covered with the same Wonderscape map Arthur had seen on the inside of his Wondercloak. Hundreds of holographic figures were arranged on top. Could you be the next Caesar? asked the tag line underneath. Test your tactics in the Wonderscape.

  Reflecting on the three posters, Arthur felt glad they were searching for Milo Hertz, and not one of his siblings. He looked the friendliest by far.

  Arthur felt something vibrate against his back and quickly unshouldered his bag. His mobile phone had switched on inside. “Hey, my phone’s working again.” Unsurprisingly, it had no reception. He checked for new messages (there weren’t any) then tested his camera by capturing a photo of the Wonderscape posters. Everything seemed to be functioning normally.

  “Mine’s back in business too,” Ren said, tapping at her phone screen with her thumb. “I wonder why…”

  With a shake of his head, Arthur added it to the ever-increasing list of mysteries they needed to solve. “We’d better keep them hidden until we know more about what’s changed in this century. People might not use phones any more.”

  After stowing their phones away, the trio set off for the red building. The crowd outside had grown and as they ventured closer, Arthur’s hands started sweating. He knew he had to act natural to avoid causing suspicion, but it was difficult not to stare at people from the future. Surprisingly everyone looked much the same as him, except they were taller and some wore strange glowing jewellery or hair accessories. He made an effort to keep his head low as they weaved through the masses, catching snippets of conversation.

  “This morning’s race was a classic,” commented one voice. “Two vehicles crashed in the first sector and by the eleventh turn, the White Tiger was already ten seconds ahead of the rest of the field.”

  Another speaker chuckled. “I doubt it’s even possible to beat the White Tiger. I’ve never seen a red team win.”

  Arthur wondered how, if no one had ever won the race, wanderers were able to progress in the game. There had to be another mechanism by which they were able to leave the realm…

  He stiffened as a boy with freckles came jogging up to them. He wore navy overalls under his Wondercloak, which had taken on the appearance of lizard scales. His long black hair must have had some sort of anti-gravity effect applied to it, because it floundered away from his face like he was underwater. Arthur guessed it must be a twenty-fifth-century thing.

  “The last race of the day is starting in an hour and a half,” he told them eagerly, sweeping back his flailing fringe. “Who are you supporting? There’s space in our viewing platform if you want to cheer for Hydraspeed?”

  “Oh, uh…” Arthur tried to sound relaxed but his voice came out croaky. “We’re all sorted, thanks.”

  “Suit yourself.” The boy gave Arthur’s rucksack a double take. “Cool bag. Where did you get it?”

  “Err…” Arthur’s heart pounded as he tried to think of a reasonable answer.

  “Wasn’t it a gift?” Cecily asked, staring at him.

  “A gift – yeah, that’s right.”

  With a shrug, the boy moved on to another group of bystanders. Arthur exhaled with relief as they passed through a set of immense doors in the front of the red building and entered a vast, floodlit space bustling with people. The roar of excited chatter reverberated around the walls, along with the buzz and whir of machinery. V-class mimics wearing stylish green overalls zipped through the cloaked masses, carrying tools and tyres. Overlooking the main floor were a number of balconies which extended outside the building. Glowing translucent elevators painted with green triangles hovered around like radio-controlled lanterns delivering people to every level. “What is this place?” Arthur asked, shrinking back.

  “I don’t know but act normal,” Cecily whispered from one corner of her mouth. “No one else is gawping.”

  The walls were decorated with more holographic posters advertising Hxperion-branded clothing and merchandise. Arthur tipped his head to marvel at the high ceiling, which was painted with bloody battle scenes of warriors in samurai armour.

  Beyond the main crowd, the concrete floor was divided into a grid of nine numbered paddocks with a different vehicle loaded in each. Teams of wanderers were busy examining engines, inspecting tyres or touching up the red paintwork. Arthur noticed that the closest group – four stern-faced blonde girls – had the words Falcon’s Fury written on the back of their Wondercloaks.

  “Must be some sort of garage where they keep the cars used for the races,” Ren guessed, standing on tiptoes. “The crowd outside were talking about defeating the White Tiger, which might explain why all the red cars in here seem to belong to wanderers. The challenge is red versus white.”

  Arthur recalled a couple of lines from the riddle scroll: I am dauntless. I am fast. Conquer me to win this task. The subject had to be the White Tiger.

  “Hey,” Cecily said, pointing behind them. “Is that a map?”

  They hurried over to the rear of the building, near where they’d first entered. Projected onto the wall was a Japanese woodblock-style illustration of the area, showing a vast, forested canyon with steep-sided valleys and jagged mountains. The red and white buildings were both situated on a plateau in the centre, accessed by a dozen rope bridges (lethal swinging boulders not included). A flag marking the start of the race was positioned behind the red building, although the track itself hadn’t been drawn.

  Large areas of the land had been shaded red and fenced by dotted lines. Arthur studied the key in the bottom right-hand corner. “Restricted Zone,” he read. “Access to race winners only, except during the EXPO.”

  “I wonder why only winners are allowed there,” Cecily remarked.

  Ren indicated to a round silver structure at the bottom of one valley. “Look – that’s got to be the Wonderdome.”

  Arthur’s heart sank when he saw it was located in one of the restricted zones. “So let me get this straight: if we want to visit the Wonderdome, we either have to wait until the EXPO is on in –” he checked the EXPO 2469 ticket – “January, if it’s an annual event, or we have to win this race.”

  “We’ll be snot by January,” Ren offered helpfully.

  “Then I suppose we’ve got no choice but to get racing,” Cecily said, rolling up her sleeves. “If the race is part
of the realm-challenge, it must be easy to enter. Where do you think we get a car?”

  Recalling what he’d overheard, Arthur tensed. The White Tiger had never been beaten. Scanning the building for clues, he spotted a large holographic board on the opposite wall. It displayed a list of eight team names, including Hydraspeed and Falcon’s Fury, with space for one more. Paddock Nine stood empty in the far corner. “Over there?”

  As they crossed the floor, Arthur paid close attention to the wanderers his age that were rushing around. Anyone who wasn’t dressed in overalls wore loose-fitting jeans and T-shirts, woollen jumpers and cotton dresses – the kind of items Arthur had seen in Newton’s lost property. Arthur wondered what their parents thought of them playing such a dangerous game, and whether they were only allowed to visit the Wonderscape after they’d done their homework. There was no way his dad would be happy about him taking part. The game was far too risky and Arthur’s dad was too protective.

  The mimics, some carrying fire extinguishers and sand buckets, sported green-and-white chequered suits with the words RACE MARSHAL on the back. A few had wrenches or spray cans for arms as well as hover-wheels for legs. Notably, Arthur saw only V-class units zipping around; the T-classes and their robot mullets were nowhere to be found.

  Ren dashed the last few paces to the free paddock. The area contained nothing but a rack of red spray paints. “Where do you think we get the car from?” she asked, walking around the edge.

  Scanning the paddock, Arthur spotted a pattern of flat metal dots inlaid into the concrete in one corner, too smooth to be screw-heads. As he kneeled down to inspect them, a cloud of glittering silver particles spurted out. “Whoa!” He fell backwards as the dust condensed into a waist-high podium with a holographic screen at the top. “Where did that come from?”

  “I don’t know,” Ren said, approaching the podium curiously. “How did Newton say things worked around here? Nanotech?”

  Arthur couldn’t remember, but Newton was right about one thing: the technology in the Wonderscape seemed like magic.

  Beneath the screen hovered an M-shaped holographic controller. “Qwerty keyboards obviously don’t exist any more,” Cecily said. “How do you think we operate this thing?” Hazarding a guess, Arthur slid his hands around either side of the M, like he would his PlayStation controller. The screen immediately glowed into life and a video started playing.

  “Welcome, wanderers!” declared Valeria Mal’fey, appearing in the centre. Her glossy red bob looked freshly styled, and over a crisp white shirt she wore a glittering jade pinafore dress embroidered with triangles. “You are about to enter a deadly race that will test your mind, body and spirit,” she said in a smooth voice. “First, choose a vehicle design.”

  The video reduced in size and shifted into one corner of the screen to reveal a 3-D technical drawing of a sports car, rotating on a single axis.

  Remembering that Ren’s mum was a mechanic, Arthur surrendered the controls. “Ren, you’ll probably be better at this than me. What kind of vehicle should we have if we’re to go faster than the White Tiger?”

  Ren scrunched her mouth into one corner, scrolling through the different options. There were more than a dozen vehicles to choose from, most of which Arthur had spotted on the race posters outside. “That’s odd,” she said, hesitating. “The only cars available are self-driving vehicles.”

  “For a race?” Cecily jerked her head. “That doesn’t make sense.”

  Arthur considered their task aboard the Principia. Perhaps this challenge was like Voyage of the Captain, and wasn’t what it first seemed…

  With a shrug, Ren nudged the controller towards a heavily modified rally car. It featured front and rear spoilers, aerodynamic body panels, a jet-propelled engine booster and superlight chassis. “This one seems designed for speed.”

  After Ren had confirmed her selection, Valeria’s video returned to full size. “Interesting choice,” she remarked, arching a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “But you must prove yourself worthy of a vehicle like that. You have six minutes on the clock – GO!”

  Before Arthur could process what was happening, an intricately patterned black circle revealed itself in the middle of the paddock floor. A slot opened and several pieces of wood toppled out on a raised platform.

  “This must be another challenge,” he realized, kneeling to examine the pieces. They all had curved edges and were carved on one side with a twisting design that matched the pattern on the concrete. “Some sort of puzzle…”

  Ren and Cecily dropped to the floor and started grabbing blocks. Arthur found two that fitted together and placed them over the corresponding outline on the concrete. He’d never been very good at wooden puzzles but the adrenaline seemed to focus his mind and with time ticking away, the design swiftly took shape. There was a hole in the centre surrounded by several rings of a twisting, maze-like track.

  There was no countdown on the screen, so Arthur had to estimate how much time had passed when Cecily finally held the last piece. “I think that’s probably three minutes spent,” he said urgently. As she slotted it into position, he felt a shudder and the entire puzzle lifted from the ground, balancing on a pole in the centre. He jumped to his feet and caught one edge of the structure as it rocked towards him. A holographic ball materialized in the outer ring.

  “This looks like one of those wooden labyrinths!” Cecily remarked, steadying the puzzle opposite. “I was given one in my Christmas stocking last year – it was a lot smaller than this.”

  “No kidding,” Ren mumbled, straining to support her side. “What do we do?”

  Cecily traced the route with her pupils. “We’ve got to tip the puzzle in different directions in order to roll the ball into the centre. Left first.”

  “Whose left?” Arthur asked.

  Ren leaned back. “This way.”

  “No!” Cecily used her weight to tug in the other direction.

  Arthur was vaguely aware of people sniggering behind them. Apparently, their arguing was attracting an audience in the other paddocks. He followed the ball’s route to the centre and pointed with his chin. “Slow down,” he said, trying to keep his voice level. “The ball needs to move along that channel, there.”

  “You’re wrong,” Ren said, still pulling. “It has to go this way, otherwise it’ll get stuck.”

  With all three of them working against each other, the ball eventually wobbled and rolled into a dead end. Cecily took a deep breath. “We’re wasting time. One of us needs to lead, or else we’ll never—”

  But it was too late. As quickly as it had appeared, the holographic ball vanished and Valeria Mal’fey started talking again. “Time’s up, I’m afraid,” she said with an easy air of condescension. “What a disappointing performance.”

  With a clatter, a large slot opened in the floor and the puzzle table retreated into darkness. Arthur knew Valeria’s message must be pre-recorded but it didn’t make it sting any less. “Substantial modifications will need to be stripped from your vehicle,” she decided. “Travel with wonder!”

  The designs for a pared-down model of their rally car appeared on screen. It now had a strange sausage-shaped body, a small electric engine and a handful of basic safety features which Arthur skimmed worriedly.

  Without warning, the screen and podium reverted to a cloud of metallic particles that disappeared back into the metal dots in the concrete. Next, a floating elevator half the size of the entire paddock descended from the roof. The air trembled as the base of the elevator slid away and a small car fell with a thud to the paddock floor. Batting dust away from his face, Arthur saw that the vehicle was the exact same model they’d seen on-screen, built from plain sheet metal as if it had just rolled off a factory conveyor belt. Everything but the bodywork had been masked off in preparation for it to be painted.

  Cecily circled it slowly, casting nervous glances at the much larger vehicles in the other paddocks. “Maybe with a little colour it’ll look less like a tin can?” she v
entured.

  Arthur cringed. The only good thing about the vehicle was that it had blacked-out windows, so nobody would see them despairing inside when they lost. As he considered what might now happen to them, he started to feel sick. If they didn’t win the race, they wouldn’t find Milo Hertz and get the time-key repaired in order to travel home. He doubted they’d even survive much longer in the Wonderscape if they couldn’t work together properly.

  “We have to win this race,” Ren reminded them. “It’s the only way to gain access to the Wonderdome so we can retrace Milo Hertz’s last steps. What are we going to do?”

  “I’m not sure,” Cecily admitted. “Why don’t you two scope out the competition to see what you can learn? Cloud and I can stay here and do the painting.”

  The thought of splitting up felt risky, but with time running out, Arthur supposed it was the logical step. Walking side by side, he and Ren quickly made their way around the floor, ogling the other teams. Hydraspeed consisted of four heavily tattooed teenage boys, all with floppy anti-gravity hair like the supporter they’d met outside. The athletic blonde girls of Falcon’s Fury looked like they might be professional race mechanics the way they moved around taking measurements and making minor adjustments. Their sleek sports car was painted to look like a falcon with flaming feathers of hot-rod red and orange. Both teams smirked as Arthur and Ren passed by.

  “Everyone clearly did way better at that labyrinth puzzle than we did,” Ren determined as they drew halfway around. “Look at all the modifications on their vehicles – the truck in Paddock Three has a jet engine!”

  Arthur hung his head, feeling foolish. Be sure to keep your teammates near, the riddle had said. The labyrinth puzzle had been a test of teamwork, and they’d failed. No wonder everyone had been sniggering.

  After a good twenty minutes exploring, Arthur and Ren were stopped by a V-class mimic wearing bright red lipstick, who scanned their Wondercloaks carefully. “Ah, you’re from Paddock Nine. I’ve been looking for you.”

  Arthur glanced at the sleeve of his cloak and wondered if the pattern of rippling water revealed more than just his emotions. Perhaps because the V-class was a mimic, she could see something he couldn’t. “I haven’t had to tell any of the other teams this,” she continued, “but you are required to register your team name with a race official, like me.”