by Matt London
“Gimme a pink pineapple smoothie,” Vesuvia snapped.
“Give me a pink pineapple smoothie, please,” Didi replied.
“Fine! Please! Just hurry. My throat hurts, and I am so parched.”
“Probably from all that shouting,” Didi muttered. Seconds later, a curly plastic straw emerged from the back of Vesuvia’s chair. She fed the end into her mouth and slurped graciously.
“Om . . . nom . . .”
“Will that be all, Vesuvia?”
“Sssslurrrrp! No! Footbath. Report on the latest developments at New Miami, and bring up the security feed of the main storage hold.”
The robotic eye stared at Vesuvia. Then, with a hum of servos, it blinked.
Vesuvia groaned. “Fine. Please!”
A panel in the floor slid aside, and a bucket of steaming hot water popped up. Vesuvia kicked off her pleather shoes and dipped her feet in the water. She had such a chill from going out after the rain.
Didi rattled off facts and figures about the latest progress in the construction of New Miami. Normally this stuff bored the fluff out of Vesuvia, but when it came to New Miami, nothing was more important.
Vesuvia liked having her own artificial intelligence, or AI. Mastercorp had given her the robotic assistant when she took the job at her mother’s urging. But sometimes Didi was so rude! She sounded like all those witchy teachers at school who told Vesuvia she wasn’t good for anything because she never applied herself. All Vesuvia wanted was a best friend who always complimented her and did whatever she commanded. Was that so much to ask? She had added some modifications to Didi’s programming when she first acquired her. It had helped—now Didi had impeccable taste in clothes and a large catalogue of the coolest pop music—but sometimes she teased Vesuvia mercilessly for not knowing some high-tech mumbo jumbo, and she never did Vesuvia’s homework for her, the way Diana had.
When Didi finished her report, she brought up the security camera Vesuvia had requested on the main viewscreen. The main storage hold was a dark chamber at the base of the flowercopter. In the dim light, Vesuvia could just make out Evie struggling against her jailers. The two hulking robo-gorillas held her by her wrists and ankles, restraining her completely. Evie tried to worm her way free, grunting in pain and discomfort. But it was no use.
“Make sure my monkeys are holding her tight!” Vesuvia said.
“Tightly,” Didi corrected. “And gorillas are apes, not monkeys.”
Vesuvia hissed at the robot eye. “Stop correcting me!”
Before she could yell at Didi further, the AI said, “Beginning our approach to New Miami.”
Squealing with joy, Vesuvia switched off the security camera feed and ran to the viewscreen, slipping and splashing footbath water across the bridge. In the distance she could see it—her perfect pink jewel. Construction had begun a month earlier, and progress had been steady. Vesuvia had found a narrow peninsula that ran along the west coast of the continent. It was a sandy stretch of land, but it served her need for lots of beachfront property perfectly. The Piffle Pink Patrol had built docks and construction yards. Condo Corp had brought in hotels, restaurants, and shopping malls. Mastercorp provided security. Rich tourists had already arrived, paying top dollar to be among the first visitors to the ultimate vacation destination.
The flowercopter landed on the roof of the Pink Palace, Vesuvia’s luxury hotel at the southern tip of New Miami Beach. As Vesuvia fastened her shoes back on, getting ready to leave, Didi said, “Mastercorp dreadnought approaching. Viola Piffle requests an immediate audience.”
Vesuvia sighed. Her mother was always showing up with those Mastercorp goons at the worst times. Why couldn’t they leave her alone to work on building New Miami?
“Fine,” she said, annoyed. “Hold our guests here until I come back. Blech. Why does everything have to be so difficult?”
“At least you can walk around,” Didi said mournfully. “I’m stuck on this flowercopter.”
“That must really stink for you,” Vesuvia said, turning up her nose. “Good thing I don’t care about your problems at all.”
Vesuvia went inside the hotel and took the super-speed elevator down to the bottom floor. She pushed out the front doors and crossed the parking lot to the edge of Condo Cove. The Mastercorp dreadnought was pulling up to the dock. The massive submarine was the shape of a black shark. It was so huge the vessel could easily swallow the Pink Palace whole.
The shark opened its mouth as it approached the dock, and an entry ramp emerged from the gaping maw like a long, serpentine tongue. Vesuvia crossed the ramp and entered the dreadnought.
There was never enough light inside the Mastercorp vessel. It gave Vesuvia the distinct sensation of being trapped inside the belly of a real shark. Yuckfest. As she reached the dock inside the shark’s mouth, she spotted Mister Dark waiting for her. The Mastercorp officer was creeptastic—that was the nicest thing Vesuvia could say about him. He was weird and intimidating, but she couldn’t really explain why. He gave her a general sense of unease, but whenever she tried to visualize him in her mind, no image appeared. He was simply the black suit. The details of his hair and face weren’t there, as if someone had airbrushed them out of her mind.
“Follow me, Piffle.” It wasn’t a request. Mister Dark led Vesuvia through the dank hallways of the dreadnought, at last arriving in a big research laboratory near the heart of the ship.
Vesuvia’s mother stood at the far side of the lab, examining the molecular composition of strange chemical compounds on a big holo-display. Vesuvia rolled her eyes. All this nerd stuff was so boring.
“Hello, Vesuvia,” her mother said. “We expected you sooner.”
“Oh, Mummy, I have the most delicious news! I have captured that ugly weasel, Evie Lane.”
“Truly?” Viola Piffle was an intense woman, tall and fair with hair like platinum. Humorless and merciless, she always seemed in control. She turned to look at her daughter, a thin eyebrow raised.
Vesuvia wondered if that expression meant her mother was pleased. “Yes. And her stinking talking bird too. They’re back at the Pink Palace right now.”
Viola exchanged a quiet glance with Mister Dark. “One of the Lane children in our grasp? Well, this is good news.”
“And that’s not all, Mummy. Can you believe the stupid bird got turned back into a robot?”
“What?” her mother snapped, swooping close to her daughter and grabbing her by the shirt. It was the first time her mother had touched her since she had reappeared months earlier, working for Mastercorp. “The bird changed back? The same bird that was exposed to the Eden Compound and turned into a real bird?”
“Ack! Don’t wrinkle my blouse.” Vesuvia squirmed. “Yes, the same bird. I guess so. Who cares?”
“How did this happen?” Viola tightened her grip. “Tell me!”
“Ow! That hurts!” Vesuvia wrestled free. “I don’t know!”
Viola snapped at Mister Dark, “Bring the girl and the bird aboard the dreadnought immediately. We’ll hold them prisoner here. There are tests I’ll need to conduct.”
Without a word, Mister Dark left the room, disappearing like a shadow exposed to light.
“But Mummy!” Vesuvia pouted. “I had such nasty things planned for Evie.”
“Our work is infinitely more important than your petty revenge. Besides, I’m sending you on a mission.”
“Yuck! I hate missions! I want to keep working on New Miami.”
Viola gave her daughter a disgusted look. “You sound like your father when you whine like that. Don’t act so pathetic.”
Vesuvia seethed but remained silent.
“Mastercorp just received word that Winterpole has issued new immigration restrictions on anyone attempting to move to the eighth continent. The Lanes will be trying to build up their settlement so they can acquire a certificate of occu
pancy. Do you know what that means?”
“Do I look like I care?” Vesuvia asked.
“No! You don’t. And that’s why you’re such a stupid girl. If the Lanes get that certificate, they’ll be able to build on the continent. But that can’t happen. Mastercorp needs to rid this continent of the Lane blight so we can maximize the sprawl of our factories and weapons testing grounds. Your mission is to smash everything the Lanes have built so that they never get their certificate.”
“Okay.” Vesuvia smiled. “That sounds like oodles of fun.”
“It’s not supposed to be fun. Quit being such a good-for-nothing layabout and do your job. Then come back. Once the Lane settlement has been destroyed and we acquire the certificate of occupancy, we will have much more of the eighth continent for Mastercorp.”
“And I’ll be able to expand New Miami clear across the continent,” Vesuvia added.
Viola turned away, as if she had concluded the conversation was over. “You are wasting time, daughter. Get going.”
Evie woke with a shiver.
She was lying on a concrete slab in an utterly blank room. The walls were smooth, stained with years of mildew and who knew what else. Her only vantage out of the room was through the metal bars covering one wall of her cell. Beyond the bars was a dark, narrow hallway.
The previous night began to come back to her as she wiped the crust of dry tears from her eyes. Separated from 2-Tor, she was dragged aboard the enormous black robo-shark and flung into this box. The gorillas had not been gentle.
As she sat up on the slab, she massaged her bruised arm and shook her head in dismay. New Miami, on her continent. Beautiful grassy fields had been chewed up into rough dirt, where condominiums and boutiques were installed. The trees, those beautiful young trees Sprout and Professor Doran had created—there was no telling where they had gone. Killed by the saws of Vesuvia’s robots, most likely. What hurt the most about all the development was that there had been so many people hanging out in New Miami. New arrivals. Settlers just like those who had joined Evie’s family in the place they had made. They looked like they were having so much fun. Young and old, rich and poor. How could they enjoy Vesuvia’s vapid, tyrannical pleasure palace? Little Miss Perfect Piffle would pay for tampering with the natural landscape Evie and Rick had worked so hard to create.
Rick. Thinking about him hurt more than the bruises. She wished she had never run off. If she’d stayed, none of this would have happened. 2-Tor wouldn’t be . . .
She shut her eyes, feeling the tears creep back.
No way was Evie going to let Vesuvia and Mastercorp toy with her one second longer. She got up, dusted herself off, and went to the bars of her cell. There weren’t any guards in the hallway, and she was a skinny kid. Turning sideways, Evie tried to squeeze through the bars. Her shoulder fit fine, but then her head got snagged.
She could almost fit, but not quite. She looked around her cell for ideas and noticed something. A tray of food rested on the floor at the foot of her bed. Well, it was sort of food. A few crusts of stale bread, a jar of strawberry jelly, and a pink plastic spoon. Her stomach grumbled, yet she couldn’t bring herself to eat anything Vesuvia had provided.
But maybe she could put the food to good use.
Evie unscrewed the petite jar of jelly and stuck two fingers in it, scooping out a big glob of the smelly stuff. She felt the slippery texture. There was a chance. Her whole hand plunged into the jar and pulled out the contents, then, taking a deep breath, Evie smeared it all over her head.
Back at the cell bars, she squeezed between them, straining her head against the metal. “Come on, pull!” she muttered to herself. Rick was always calling her “pudding head.” Surely a big head of pudding covered in strawberry jelly could squeeze through jail cell bars.
Evie took a deep breath, winced, and pulled.
On the other side of the bars, she tumbled to the floor. Her head felt like it had been through the washing machine—permanent press cycle—and it took a minute to make the dizziness go away. When the world returned to its proper orientation, Evie stumbled to her feet, wiped her face off on her shirt, and dashed down the hall, out of the cell block.
She emerged into a maze of corridors without a clue where she was or where to go. “Wild guess!” she blurted out and ran left.
After several hundred feet, she froze and pressed against the wall, trying to conceal herself. In the distance she could hear the percussion of combat boots on the metal floor. Seconds later, Mastercorp guards crossed the hall at the next intersection. They were running a military drill, grunting and barking orders to one another. Each soldier clutched a black assault rifle. There was nothing cute or charming about these weapons, nothing like the technology Evie’s father had created or the kind that Winterpole used. These guns were for just one thing—efficient murder.
Thinking quickly, Evie slipped across the hall and into the first door that caught her eye.
The crash and clang of heavy metal weapons filled the room beyond the door. Evie dove out of the way as a robotic foot the size of an SUV stomped the ground beside her. She backed up, trying to fit the massive moving objects in her vision.
Two enormous robots sparred, a clash of the titanium titans. The machines were roughly humanoid in shape, with broad shoulders and heads like football helmets. One wielded an enormous shining sword, the other a massive battle axe. Evie’s ears throbbed every time the weapons collided.
She looked around for the exit and found it, a small platform with a door leading out, ten stories up—about eye level with the battling robots.
“Good technique, Robo-One,” said a business professional voice over the loudspeaker. “Let’s attempt Robo-Two’s disarm next.”
While Evie tried to figure out what the guy on the loudspeaker was talking about, the two robots swung at each other again. The battle axe robot parried, knocking the sword out of the other robot’s hand. Evie covered her head as the sword slammed into the floor beside her, knocking her off her feet.
Realizing she wasn’t going to get another chance, Evie took a deep breath and ran toward the fallen sword. She jumped on the flat part of the blade and held on to the hilt. The first robot picked up the weapon and hoisted the giant sword into the air, and Evie along with it. She swung wildly as she tried not to fall off. She was so small compared to the size of these robots that they didn’t seem to notice her. The robot raised the sword at its opponent. Evie sprinted across the length of the outstretched blade. As she neared the tip, she leaped. Below, the weapons crashed together again, causing a shower of sparks. Evie slammed hard into the handle of the battle axe and slid down to the second robot’s clenched hand. Hugging its fingers tightly, she screamed in fright as the robot raised the axe. But her plan had worked. Evie jumped from the robot to the platform, ten stories up, and ran through the door before anyone spotted her.
She barely registered the word on the sign above the door.
ANIARMAMENT.
The door slammed shut behind her. Inside, she winced at the sounds that filled the darkness. There was a clack and clatter snapping over a hiss that nearly deafened her. Machines. It was the sound of angry machines.
Large robotic structures filled the room, so tightly packed with their appendages entangled that they reminded Evie of the dense jungle surrounding New Boca, that crazy retirement community in the rainforest that Vesuvia’s grandmother had built. The robots were building other robots—a kind of twisted assembly line. Dark clouds roiled in Evie’s stomach.
In the center of the chaos were hundreds of robot animals, but not the kind in the Piffle Pink Patrol she had seen Vesuvia command. These were devilish creations, with accentuated fangs and knife-like claws. The grotesque faces sent a chill through her.
A flash of brown caught Evie’s eye. A hand? And then a flash of pink. A foot? She looked closer, even though a voice in her head was sc
reaming for her to look away, to shut her eyes. Were there people in these machines? Maybe it was just a trick of the light. They did not move and made no sound.
With a loud slap, a cold hand clamped down on Evie’s shoulder. She screamed, but the sound was swallowed by the roar of the machines.
Mister Dark loomed over her. “What are you doing out of your cage, little bird?”
Under the cover of darkness, the Piffle Pink Patrol approached the Lane settlement. Vesuvia watched from inside the head of Geri, her titanic robot giraffe. Didi dangled from her eyestalk beside Vesuvia’s head.
Outside the viewport, it was quiet. The treetops were still. She couldn’t make out the drab, poorly arranged shelters those undignified Lanes were huddling in, but according to Didi, they were there, just beyond the line of trees.
“Forward!” Vesuvia shouted. Geri raised one of her front legs, big as a telephone pole, and marched into the forest.
Bzzzt!
The electrical charge surged through Geri, jolting Vesuvia and making her hair stand on end. Didi spun wildly in a circle.
“What in the name of sweet shopping was that?”
“Electromagnetic pulse detected. Auxiliary power systems enabled.”
“Speak English, Didi!”
“That was English. Read a book, you bratty pumpkin.”
“Pumpkin?! I’ll rewire you into a hair dryer!” Vesuvia dove at the robotic eye.
Didi rose above Vesuvia’s head, out of reach.
“Your impotent threats mean nothing to me, Vesuvia.”
Growling under her breath, Vesuvia rushed to the controls and flung them forward. “Full speed ahead!”
Didi sounded frantic. “Vesuvia, no, wait!”
Geri took another step, and an even bigger surge of electrical energy rattled the robot giraffe. The viewscreen went blank. The control console powered down. The overhead lights switched off, plunging the cockpit into darkness.