by Matt London
“Hey! Who turned off the lights?” Vesuvia tripped and tumbled to the floor with a clang.
After a few seconds, the light in Didi’s eye flickered back on. “You did,” she explained, her voice low and slow before it wound back up to its normal tempo. “The Lanes have installed a force field around the perimeter of their settlement. Any attempts to pass technology through the field will result in a complete system shutdown.”
“Any technology?” Vesuvia asked in disbelief. “Even my robo-birds? Even my pocket tablet?”
“Anything,” Didi said. She took control of Geri and maneuvered away from the edge of the force field. The rest of the Piffle Pink Patrol followed.
“So how do we get in?” Vesuvia asked. She wasn’t used to such setbacks. Not being able to smash the entire Lane settlement into tiny little pieces made her brain feel like a hot tub with the bubbles and heat cranked all the way up.
“Scanning . . .” The lights in Geri’s head turned back on, and the control console powered up. “Connection established. Would you like to disable the EMP shield?”
“What do you think?” Vesuvia snapped. “Of course I would!” With the shield in place, any attempt to enter the Lane settlement would cause all her pretty pink robots to short circuit.
Apathetically, Didi replied, “Access denied. Password verification required.”
Password. Vesuvia didn’t like the sound of that. “Didi, quick, hack their system. I want to smash them! Hurry!”
“Decryption enabled.” The light in Didi’s eye blinked on and off rapidly, the way some computers do when they’re thinking very hard. “I’m sorry, Vesuvia, but the security of this system is beyond my capacity. We will have to find the password some other way.”
“So it’s impossible then! Hopeless!”
Didi groaned. “You, my dear, whine more than the jet engine I used to date. I’ve never seen a human be so quick to quit.”
“Well, what’s the solution, then?”
“I’m sure you can figure it out if you give it some thought.”
Vesuvia hated the way Didi was always playing games with her, like she was trying to teach her something. Vesuvia hated school. She hated learning. She hated thinking, unless it was about what to eat or what to wear. So Didi’s attempts to educate Vesuvia were super annoying.
But the AI was right about one thing. Complaining wasn’t going to get them through the force field. Whining wouldn’t smash the Lane settlement. How could she get through?
At Condo Corp, passwords were closely guarded secrets. Only the highest-level officials were told secret codes. Most of those officials were members of Vesuvia’s own family. So it stood to reason that those loser Lanes might do the same. That meant the only people with the password would be the ugly parents, that nerdy boy Rick, and—
Ew. Double ew. Vesuvia scrunched up her face in disgust.
Didi purred, “My optical sensors detect displeasure, but also a positive realization. Would you like to share, Vesuvia?”
Vesuvia did not want to share, but she didn’t see any other option. “Evie Lane knows the password. I’m sure of it.”
“Wonderful! She’s in a holding cell back at the Mastercorp dreadnought. How will you get her to reveal the password to you?”
Shuddering at the thought, Vesuvia said, “I’m going to have to be nice to her.”
Professor Doran’s banana boat ran aground just after daybreak. Rick raced down to the beach to greet the new arrivals. A squad of six-foot-tall orange robots, the carrying carrots, disembarked with big bags of seeds over their tops. They marched up to the main road where Rick’s parents were waiting.
Rick hopped from foot to foot, barely able to contain his excitement. It felt like the release party of the biggest video game of the year. All the anticipation was making him dizzy. For a moment, he was able to push the thoughts of worry from his mind, about the certificate of occupancy and about Evie. She still had not returned. Concern among the group had risen, and despite everything, he hoped she was safe.
A boy leaped off the front of the boat and planted his cowboy boots in the sand. The boy stood before Rick with a huge smile on his face. He wore a denim shirt and chaps over his jeans. His hat was still way too big, and his chili pepper–shaped slide gleamed in the morning light. A shiny new machete hung from a loop on his belt.
“Well, shoot, Rick!” The boy sauntered over to him, grinning wider. “You’re looking finer than a turnip in a tuxedo.”
Rick returned the smile joyfully. “Sprout! You made it!”
“I reckon we sure did. Took us about as long as the prof and I could imagine. Had to set sail from the Gulf of Mexico, and then we got stuck in traffic in the Panama Canal. But boy, am I excited to finally be here! Hoo-wee! Look at everything you got set up.”
Rick had told Sprout so many of his dreams about what the eighth continent would be. “This is just the beginning, Sprout. You’re going to help us reach the next step.”
“Boy, I can’t wait! Where’s Evie? I gotta give her a howdy-doo.”
Rick grimaced. “It’s a long story.”
“Long story? Well, I got time.”
“Come on, Sprout. Let me show you around. Then I’ll explain everything.”
By the time Rick completed his tour, Sprout was giddy with excitement. There were so many possibilities! So much to do. Rick had hoped Sprout would love the eighth continent as much as he did.
The boys reconnected with Rick’s parents over by his father’s laboratory. They stood out front with Sprout’s mentor and guardian, Professor Doran, who had also arrived on the banana boat. The professor was an old college friend of Rick’s parents, though Professor Doran always seemed so stern and unimpressed with George Lane’s many accomplishments. Rick could only hope that enlisting Doran’s help to complete the requirements to receive the certificate of occupancy from Winterpole was the right idea.
“It won’t be easy,” Professor Doran said. “But there’s a chance. We need to begin construction right away if we hope to finish all these buildings in time.”
“How do we get started?” asked Rick’s mom.
“Well, perhaps a practical demonstration is in order,” said Professor Doran. “Sanchez, do you have the sample?”
“I sure do, Prof.” Sprout handed over a large seed. Professor Doran squatted down, dug a little hole out of the dirt road, and buried the seed inside. Then he produced a spray bottle from his satchel, which was made of woven plant fibers.
“This is a special nutrient serum I use to accelerate plant growth. I infused the plants that created the foliage on the continent with the same mixture.”
Rick watched intently as the professor sprayed the mound of dirt that covered the seed.
“Now stand back,” the professor urged. “Quick. Move.”
In seconds, little stems emerged from the dirt and started to stretch, spreading into leaves and vines. A wooden trunk appeared, and it kept growing wider and taller until a tree formed—more of an oversized stump, really, with only a couple of branches jutting off. When the sudden growth stopped, the plant was the size of an outhouse. But the peculiar thing about the plant was that the tree was completely hollow. There were openings too, which looked a bit like round windows and doorways.
“Wow!” Sprout hooted, circling the trunk to inspect the tree. “It grew like magic.”
“Not magic, my dear boy,” corrected the professor. “Science.”
Rick adjusted his glasses, then reached in and touched the bark of the tree. It was rough like concrete and sturdy like steel. He began to see the possibilities.
“This is called a hollow tree. It’s an arboreal hybrid of my own design. These should serve our purposes just fine.” The professor rubbed the bark of the tree like he was patting a loyal horse.
Rick smiled. “We can build inside the trees. These ca
n be our buildings—our laboratories and our schools.”
“Precisely, my dear boy,” said the professor. “I have enough seeds to create a small city. The problem is the spray. We have to be careful with how much we use. Not enough, and you get little lumpy buildings like this one. Too much, and there’s no telling how big the buildings will get.”
“Bigger is better,” Rick said.
“Not if a tree grows so big it crashes into the other ones. That would set us back.” When Professor Doran said this, Sprout’s eyes grew wide.
“Good point.” Rick nodded.
“And my supply of spray is limited. We have to be very careful. If we squander what we have, we may not be able to finish.”
“But this is good,” Rick said. “We’ll be like Swiss Family Robinson, living in tree houses.”
“Yeehaw!” Sprout cheered. “Sounds like fun.”
Professor Doran said, “Well, if you want your fun you’d better get started. We don’t have much time to complete our task.”
“You don’t need to tell us three times,” Rick replied. “Come on, Sprout. Let’s go plant some skyscrapers.”
They worked until nightfall, mapping out where the trees would go and excavating holes deep enough to give a head start to the vast root systems the hollow trees required. Rick and Professor Doran calculated to the milliliter how much spray was needed to make the trees grow just right. The speed at which the trees grew had made Rick think the work would be easy, when the reality was much more laborious. Still, the speed with which the large wooden structures burst from the ground fueled their progress. At last the group collapsed, drenched with sweat and aching sore muscles, into comfortable chairs in the dining hall. The building vaguely resembled a school cafeteria, with long tables and lots of seats.
Rick was thrilled with how the settlement was coming together. It reminded him of that first day, when the Eden Compound had fallen onto the Great Pacific Garbage Patch, and the eighth continent had formed all at once.
As the others drifted happily to a hot shower or a hot meal, Rick surveyed the work they had done and was proud. After just one day, he could already see progress. The research laboratory dominated the center of the village. The northern curve was lined with the skyscraper dormitories. Down by the beach was the welcome center and the security station. From afar, the settlement looked like a grove of tall, barren trees, some like enormous fallen logs. Soon their settlement would become a town, the town would become a city, and then . . . who knew? There was no telling how big Rick’s country would grow.
He was glad to be able to share it with a dear friend like Sprout. The boy had tackled the challenge of planting the tree-buildings with his usual enthusiasm. Over dinner, Sprout told Rick about the adventures he had been on since their last encounter. He had traveled all over: Madagascar, Thailand, Sumatra. He had even conducted detailed investigations into edible cacti in various deserts around the world. Sprout’s wild and hilarious stories made Rick’s stomach sore from laughter.
As the boys finished their meal, Rick’s parents entered the dining hall, their faces filled with concern.
“Still no word from 2-Tor or your sister,” Rick’s father explained. “Have either of you seen them?”
Rick shook his head.
“This is getting serious,” Mom said. “We’ve sent out search parties to look for them—some of the workers have volunteered. We’re going to start looking too.”
“How can we help?” Sprout asked eagerly.
“I’d suggest you both get some rest,” Dad replied. “We’ll find Evie and 2-Tor. You can continue building tomorrow. Stay focused. We only have four days left to get the certificate of occupancy.”
Sprout nodded, but Rick could tell from his expression that he was still worried about Evie.
Once Mom and Dad left, Sprout turned to Rick with an expression he’d never seen before, a mix of hurt and frustration.
“Why didn’t you tell me she was missing, Rick? This is serious!”
“I know. I’m sorry.” Rick grumbled, frustrated with himself. “I didn’t know how to bring it up—and I didn’t realize it was so serious. You know as well as anyone how she always goes off on her own to prove a stupid point.”
“But things are different this time. Dang it, Rick. We should have been looking for her.”
“But we have to finish building so we can get the certificate!”
Sprout glared. “Which is more important, this here settlement or your own gosh darn sister?”
Rick frowned and said nothing. Evie always went her own way, against the wishes and plans of the rest of the family. Rick was the one doing all the hard work. He felt used, like Evie was taking advantage of his labor. It frustrated him that he didn’t know how to control her.
Sprout slapped the table. “Y’all are always acting like a two-headed dog chasing its tail. I don’t see why you’re always fighting all the time.”
“She never listens to me, Sprout. I’m the one who has the plan. Evie even asks me what the plan should be, but then when I tell her, she argues. You don’t do that. You just go along with the plan.”
“Well, shoot, Rick, that’s because I don’t stand a chance of arguing with that big old brain of yours. But Evie ain’t never gonna let you get away with bossing people around. She’s gonna fight you every step of the way. What you don’t realize is that you’re better for it.”
“Better?”
“Well, sure! How would you ever know if your plans are good if Evie weren’t there to pick ’em apart? See, you gotta treat that girl like asparagus.”
Rick tried to grin. “I have to spread Evie around on my plate so Mom thinks I ate more than I actually did?”
Sprout’s eyes went wide. “First of all, why in the name of the Jolly Green Giant would you do that? Asparagus is delicious. And second, no! You have to let her grow wild, Rick. Some plants need to be kept in their special spots, tended to, micromanaged, like tomatoes. But that ain’t Evie, no sir. Some plants, you wanna just throw seeds around. You never know what’ll grow! How big your crop will be. That’s what Evie’s like. You gotta let her be wild.”
Reaching out, Rick clapped Sprout on the arm and gave him a little shake. “Thanks, Sprout. I’m glad you’re here. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”
“Well, shoot, I just want my amigos to get along, if it ain’t too much trouble.”
Before Rick could reply, loud music started pumping from outside the dining hall. He had to cover his ears. This was not okay. Many of the little children had already gone to sleep—Rick’s own bedtime was coming up. It was much too late for such loud music. It was a public disturbance to the settlement.
“Come on,” Rick said, rising from his seat. “Let’s go check that out.”
Sprout pushed himself to his feet. “Hoo-wee! We’re gonna put down that disturbance real good.”
They raced out of the dining hall and onto the main road. They could see, even from this distance, the flashing lights and dancing strobes of a party in full swing in the middle of the town square. A bunch of workers and their kids were crowded around, dancing and singing along to the pumping music.
To no surprise of Rick’s, Tristan Ruby stood in the middle of it all, surrounded by laser-light projections of audio sliders, turntables, a keyboard, and a floating violin. His speaker-backpack was the source of the noise. Tristan’s glasses flashed in the strobe light as he turned to Rick. “What’s up, little dude? You look like you need to cut loose.”
“I do not need to cut loose,” Rick assured him. “I need you to turn this music off. Party’s over.”
Tristan grinned. He always gave off a vibe that he was only half listening. “Naw. The music’s gotta stay on. Look how much fun everyone’s having. I’m telling you, these cats are gonna text their friends and be like, ‘Yo! The Patch is the happeningest place on all
eight continents.’ And then they’ll come here. You’ll get more people.”
“The Patch?” Sprout asked.
“Yeah, you know, like ‘garbage patch’? It’s my new name for this place.”
“Listen,” Rick said, “I appreciate that you’re trying to help, but this isn’t how we do things around here.”
“Yeah, but you ain’t the boss of me, little dude. So why don’t you back off?”
Rick stepped forward. “Hey, don’t—”
Tristan Ruby cranked up the music. It was so loud it literally knocked Rick and Sprout off their feet. They tumbled to the ground, covering their ears in pain. But the dancers seemed to love it. They kept shaking their hips and stomping their feet, enjoying the ability to party after a hard day’s work.
As Rick and Sprout stumbled back to their sleep shelters, searching fruitlessly for earplugs, Rick felt a painful longing for Evie to return. He could manage the settlement fine, just not the people in it. For that, he needed his sister.
“That’s the last of them,” said the Master-corp laborer as he stepped back to admire his handiwork. The new bars of Evie’s cell were much closer together. She could barely reach her arm between them. Now there was no way to escape.
As the laborer departed, Mister Dark’s words still rang through her head. “The only reason I don’t end your little life right now is that Mrs. Piffle sees value in you. I suggest you pray that you retain that value, but the truth is, I always get what I want in the end.”
Alone now, Evie was glad there was no one to see her cry.
Whether minutes or hours passed, she wasn’t sure, but Evie was still wiping her cheeks when she heard footsteps coming down the hall. She held her breath. It didn’t matter who was coming to see her, she knew she wouldn’t like it.
She was right. Vesuvia appeared, smiling like a beauty queen—that strained, good-grief-why-do-I-have-to-grin-like-an-idiot smile. She knocked on the bars of Evie’s cell and waved when the other girl looked up.