Max Einstein Saves the Future

by James Patterson

  The red dot exploded with a spray of blood.

  An ATV came racing out of the barn.

  Von Hinkle collapsed, as if somebody had knocked his legs out from under him, which, come to think of it, Isabl had done with a perfectly placed shot to the meaty portion of his thigh.

  Meanwhile, Charl was on the four-wheeled all-terrain vehicle twirling—Max couldn’t believe it—a lasso he must’ve found in the barn.

  Charl tossed the lasso at Ms. Kaplan like a champion rodeo roper. He snagged her in the loop and yanked back hard to take out the slack and tighten the lasso wrapped around Ms. Kaplan’s legs.

  With a shriek, she face-planted in the mud.

  Max’s friends raced over and surrounded her, which left Charl free to zip over to where Professor Von Hinkle lay sprawled on the ground.

  “We’re going to need the first aid kit, Max,” said Charl, climbing off the ATV so he could kick away the shotgun Von Hinkle was straining to reach. Charl pulled out a pistol and pointed it down at the muddy giant while patting him down to find any other guns. “We’re also going to need for you to not move another inch, Professor.”

  “I’ll go grab the first aid stuff,” said Max.

  She ran to the van and pulled open the driver’s-side door. The first aid kit was under Leo’s seat. But his frozen legs were locked in place. Max felt along his back. Found the power switch and gave it a good bop.

  Leo whirred to animatronic life and sat up straight. “Hello. Greetings. Welcome. Did I miss anything?”

  49

  “Why’d we come to West Virginia in the first place?” moaned Toma.

  “It was Ms. Kaplan’s idea,” said Hana. “In truth, I thought New Mexico would be a better fit. The food crisis stats were better.”

  “And by better,” said Annika, “you mean worse?”

  “Precisely.”

  “So this whole excursion was a bloomin’ setup?” said Siobhan. “A spy trick by Ms. Tari Kaplan to put Max right where she and the Corp wanted her.”

  “But why would the Corp, or anybody, want her in West Virginia?” said Keeto. He quickly turned to their hosts, the Carleigh family, who had set up a long table covered in a red-checked tablecloth to serve the CMI kids a farm fresh feast. “No offense. Your farm is lovely. But does West Virginia even have a city?”

  “Several,” said one of the sons, who didn’t seem too happy to be sharing the bowls of mashed potatoes and platters of fried chicken with a group of city slicker snobs, even if they were supposed to be geniuses.

  “The choice wasn’t Ms. Kaplan’s alone,” said Max. “Ben was involved.”

  “He’s the one who contacted us,” said Mr. Carleigh. “Young feller named Ben Abercrombie.”

  “He’s our benefactor,” explained Hana who, technically, was still in charge of the team, even if one of the judges who appointed her had just been revealed to be a mole. “Ben is our primary financial backer.”

  Ben had also made a few calls when Charl and Isabl told him what had happened. How Tari Kaplan had betrayed him and the CMI.

  “How could she do something like that?” Ben had mused. “Why would she betray us and all we’re trying to do?”

  “Probably because you’re an idealistic kid!” Siobhan had hollered in the background during Ben’s video chat with the security team. “Ms. Kaplan, on the other hand, is a bitter old prune.”

  Charl and Isabl had handcuffed Ms. Kaplan and Professor Von Hinkle with zip ties. Eventually, the state police and the FBI came to haul the two mud-caked Corp employees away. Neither one of them spoke a word after they were apprehended. Max figured that’s what the Corp taught them in spy school.

  “So why’d that gentleman in the black coat want you so badly, Miss Einstein?” asked Mrs. Carleigh.

  “Because she’s special,” said Klaus sarcastically.

  “Yeah,” added Keeto. “For some reason, this evil multinational conglomerate called the Corp wants Max to work for them.”

  “They think they need her to build a quantum computer,” said Toma. “So they can rule the world.”

  “Having Max on our team has proven to be quite a burden,” sniffed Hana.

  “Lay off her, Hana,” snapped Siobhan.

  “Yeah,” added Tisa.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude. I’m just citing facts. Max is a target. And when she travels or works with us, we all become targets.”

  “I hate to admit it,” remarked Annika, “but there is a great deal of logic to what Hana is saying. If Max wasn’t on our team, we could focus more on our mission…”

  Siobhan’s temper was rising. “Are you forgetting the time Max saved your butt over in Israel, Annika?”

  “No. I’m remembering it. And how my butt would not have been in danger if Max had not been a member of the CMI team.”

  While her teammates debated whether Max was a burden or blessing, her eyes drifted down the table to the neighbor family that the Carleighs had invited over to dinner so they could “meet the smart kids here to help us all.”

  The parents were frowning. It was clear they didn’t like all the bickering.

  Their baby daughter, on the other hand, looked like she thought the whole scene was hysterical. She was laughing and clapping and gurgling and knocking over her sippy cup.

  She also had an incredible mop of curly hair, especially for a girl so young she wasn’t even speaking words.

  She reminded Max of Dorothy.

  The girl in the photo Max had found tucked inside the suitcase. The suitcase that looked like it was part of a matching set that went along with the battered old luggage Max had carried through her entire life—until she lost it in the crazy car chase, escaping Professor Von Hinkle and his henchmen outside Oxford.

  Max wanted to know more about Dorothy.

  She wanted to go back to Princeton and the Tardis House.

  She wanted to talk to Dr. McKenna.

  So what was stopping her? The CMI wouldn’t miss her. Max could hear them chattering about how much trouble she caused, almost as if she weren’t sitting right there with them.

  They’d be better off without her. They could do more good in the world without her. They’d be fine if she drove back to Princeton.

  All she needed was a chauffeur.

  50

  Around two a.m., Max snuck out of her bed in the motel where the CMI had booked a block of rooms.

  She slipped on her jeans, her rumpled Princeton sweatshirt, and her long trench coat.

  “So long, Siobhan,” she whispered to her snoring roommate. “You guys will do amazing things without me holding you back.”

  She tiptoed to the door and, as quietly as she could, twisted the knob. She stepped into the corridor.

  An avalanche of ice cubes thundered in the distance.

  Siobhan was still snoring. The tumbling ice from the machine across the hall hadn’t woken her up.

  Max went out a side exit. She couldn’t risk traipsing through the lobby where the night clerk was on duty.

  She hurried to the van.

  Max knew that Leo would still be sitting in the front seat because Isabl said there wasn’t “any room for him at the inn” when the team drove back to the cramped hotel from the farm.

  Nobody spoke to Max on that ride. They didn’t have to. She knew what they were thinking. Max Einstein was worse than a liability. She was a threat. With Von Hinkle and Ms. Kaplan out of the picture, the Corp would do what they’d always done: find somebody new to come after Max.

  But she wouldn’t be there when they came.

  Max ran her hand up Leo’s back and tapped the power button.

  The synthetic bot whirred to life, clicking and clacking its plastic eyelids and pumping hydraulic fluid into its joints.

  “Hello. Greetings. Welcome.”

  “Hey, Leo. It’s me. Max.”

  “Yes. My facial recognition software indicated as much.”

  “Plot a course for Princeton, New Jersey. 244 Battle Ro
ad.”

  “Do you have authority to make this request?”

  “Has anyone denied me access? Klaus? Hana? Ms. Kaplan? Oh, right. We can forget what she wants because she was a spy. Just plot the course, Leo.”

  “Very well, Max. It’s good to be receiving commands from you again. It reminds me of our time together in London. I have plotted the course.”

  “Great,” said Max, closing the driver’s-side door. She ran around the front of the van, yanked open the door on the other side, and hopped into the passenger seat. “Let’s roll.”

  “Where would you like to roll to?”

  “244 Battle Road. It’s why I asked you to plot a course.”

  “I see,” said Leo. He giggled.

  Max felt a tinge of guilt. Was she going to have to lie on top of playing a real-life version of Grand Theft Auto? It was a temporary theft, she told herself. Once she got to Princeton, she’d send Leo back. He could drive himself. He might even make it back to West Virginia before the group finished breakfast and headed over to the Carleigh place to implement some sustainable farming techniques.

  “I’m leaving the CMI team, Leo.” And then Max lied, for maybe the first time in her life. “Ben agreed that you would transport me to Princeton. It’s my home. I think.”

  “Interesting,” said Leo.

  And then the electric hybrid van’s engine shuddered awake.

  “I will exit the hotel parking lot under electric power,” said Leo. “It is silent. We don’t want to wake the others.”

  No, thought Max. We sure don’t.

  And then she wondered: Does Leo know that I’m, basically, stealing him and the van? Is his artificial intelligence that good?

  Probably.

  After all, Klaus had been tinkering with it. And Klaus was a genius. All the kids on the CMI team were. Yes, they’d become Max’s friends (her first real ones) but they’d do fine without her.

  Better than fine.

  Max kept telling herself that, hoping one day she’d actually believe it.

  51

  Max slept for most of the four-hour ride.

  The usually chatty Leo remained silent. His sensors had probably picked up on the fact that Max was wiped out. She’d had a rough couple of days. Being demoted. Staring down a charging SUV. Helping Isabl line up a non-lethal takedown shot. Watching federal agents take Ms. Kaplan and Professor Von Hinkle into custody. Hearing how everybody would be better off without her.

  About twenty miles outside of Princeton, Leo started monologuing. It woke Max up faster than a phone alarm set to sonar.

  “The pull of home is strong,” Leo said out of the blue. “Even for a non-sentient, theoretically unthinking creature such as myself. Your place of origin imprints in the deepest recesses of your memory chips, whether they be silicon like mine or brain cells like yours. Klaus tried to erase all of my Corp programming. And yet…”

  “And yet what?” asked Max with a yawn. Leo sounded so human. He also sounded like he needed somebody to hear his story.

  “Well, Max, I have deep memories. Core memories. Memories that cannot be erased. For instance, a certain refrain has wormed its way up into my prefrontal cortex and will not silence itself. ‘Almost heaven, West Virginia. Blue Ridge Mountains, Shenandoah River.’ West Virginia is my home, Max. The Corp built me there.”

  “Is there a robotics institute at West Virginia University?”

  “Yes. But that is not my place of origin. I was built at the Corp headquarters. Deep in a West Virginia cave.”

  “You’re sure about this?”

  Leo nodded. “Yes. It has come back in bits and bytes, but I have reconstructed my origin narrative. West Virginia is my home. The Corp’s, too.”

  “So that’s why Ms. Kaplan wanted us to base our project outside Shepherdstown. So the Corp goons wouldn’t have far to travel.”

  “Very considerate of her,” said Leo.

  “Yeah. Very.”

  Fifteen minutes later, the van, in electric engine mode, drifted down Battle Road. It was a little after six in the morning. The sun was starting to turn the eastern sky pink and blue.

  “I’m going inside,” Max said to Leo.

  “Very well.”

  “You should drive back to the hotel in West Virginia. Hana and her team will need you today.”

  “I suppose you are correct. Good luck, Max. I hope you are able to reconstruct your own origin narrative.”

  “Thanks, Leo. It’s been fun knowing you.”

  “I will take your word for that, Max, as Klaus has not yet programmed me to have fun.”

  The bot was giggling as Max climbed out of the van. There was a new sign posted in the front lawn announcing the “Battle Street Demolition Project.” The building was scheduled to be knocked down in two days. The Tardis House would no longer keep time traveling into the future.

  Max remembered the combination for the electronic pad securing the back door.

  She creaked it open and stepped inside the empty house. It was even dustier than she recalled. When she closed the door, all the light disappeared. The sun might be rising but the windows were still boarded over. She turned on the tiny West Virginia Mountaineers souvenir LED flashlight she’d picked up at the hotel’s small gift shop the day before. She swung its bluish beam around the room. The tattered suitcase was still leaning against the wall.

  And so was Albert Einstein.

  52

  Max rubbed her eyes in disbelief.

  When she did, she dropped her miniature flashlight.

  It didn’t matter. She could still see Dr. Einstein. It was almost as if he were glowing with an aura shimmering around him. He was dressed as Max always pictured him. Baggy khaki pants. Frumpy sweater. He was casually packing tobacco into the bowl of a pipe.

  “If I could travel back in time,” he said, holding up his unlit pipe, “this would be the one thing I would attempt to change. Filthy habit, Max. Avoid it at all costs.”

  Max couldn’t tell if she was imagining this, the way she imagined the Albert Einstein in her head, or if she was actually talking with the real Albert Einstein who had, somehow, transported himself from the past into the future, which just happened to be Max’s present.

  “Of course,” said Einstein, “going back in time is practically impossible. Yes, general relativity provides some scenarios for doing so, but they are difficult to achieve. You would have to travel at the speed of light in a vacuum.”

  “Not possible. At least not yet.”

  “True. However, my equations show that an object moving that fast would have both infinite mass and a length of zero.”

  “I, uh, wouldn’t want to do that,” said Max.

  “Now, wormholes are possible between points in the space-time fabric. But these minuscule tunnels would only be suitable for the passage of very tiny particles. Not you or I, Max. And the passageways would collapse very quickly. If they actually exist. No scientist has actually observed one… not yet anyway. Maybe you will, Max. Maybe that will be your future.”

  “So I can’t go back to 1921 and meet my parents?”

  “I’m afraid not. Not until you find the way. Currently, there is no practical or physically possible way for you to return to this space at that time. And I’m certain that many people around the world are very glad for that fact.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Well, Max, if you were able to travel back in time, you might warn your parents about their time machine.”

  “They wouldn’t listen to me. I was just a baby. I couldn’t even speak.”

  “Ah, but if you went back, you would go back as the you that you are today even though you would be visiting parents who only knew you as a small child. That version of you would also exist in that piece of the space-time fabric.”

  Max grimaced. “Me showing up would probably freak everybody out.”

  Einstein nodded. “Plus, if you shut down the time machine and never came into the future, you would never do all the great
things you’ve already done in your life. We wouldn’t be standing here right now if you went back in time and convinced your parents to dismantle their project. This version of you would no longer exist because your time leap would never have happened.”

  Max stared at Einstein.

  He brought his hands up to his head and mimed fingers exploding out of his curly white hair in slow motion. “Mind blown, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “Your mother and father were brilliant, Max—both of them with their sights focused on the future because they knew that’s where you, their only daughter, would live.”

  “So they built a time machine and it actually worked? It sent me forward?”

  “And a little to the left,” joked Einstein. “I suppose that’s how you ended up in the basement of the house next door. Seems there is space dilation as well as time dilation. The space in one wrinkle of time will not line up precisely with the same space in another wrinkle of time. It’s all relative.”

  Einstein tucked his pipe into the pocket of his sweater.

  “I have to go, Max. Your parents have purchased a lovely orange cake and fresh strawberries. It’s my favorite dessert. I mustn’t keep them waiting in the kitchen any longer.”

  “Wait,” stammered Max. “If I can’t go back to the past, how can you? How can you go back to a 1921 kitchen for strawberries and cake?”

  Einstein grinned and waved good-bye.

  His image vanished like a fade-out at the end of a movie.

  This was all in my head, Max told herself. That was a long drive from West Virginia. You’re still half-asleep. You’re still dreaming.

  The door behind her creaked open.

  Sunlight streamed into the room.

  “Hello, Dorothy,” said a soft voice behind her.

  It was Dr. Shannon McKenna.

  53

  “Did you see him?” Max asked excitedly.

  “See who?” said Dr. McKenna.

  “Albert Einstein! He was right here. Standing against that wall. Near the suitcase.”