by Matt London
“It’s highly toxic,” Mister Dark explained. He opened the hatch on top of the container, withdrew a syringe, and placed it in the liquid. He pulled back on the plunger, filling the metal instrument. Then he squeezed the contents of the syringe into a small vial he produced from his jacket. “You saw what it did to that bird. If it came into contact with a human body, it might kill you . . . or worse.”
Vesuvia’s mother nodded in agreement. “We’re going to do tests on this too and see if we can isolate the components.”
“You sure do like tests,” Vesuvia muttered.
“Not as much as you like testing my patience,” her mother snapped. “Get out of here if you’re not going to help. And take your new toy with you.”
Toy, Vesuvia thought with a snort as Didi followed her out of the lab. Her new robot companion was so much more than a toy. She was the key to executing Vesuvia’s secret plan. And once success was in her grasp, then her mother would see how valuable a daughter she could be.
Evie was flying over the eighth continent. It was one of her favorite dreams.
2-Tor wasn’t carrying her, and the Roost was nowhere in sight. The trees looked so small below her, the mountains like the papier-mâché volcano she had made for a school project. If she flew high enough, she could see the entire continent. It looked like a big heart, like home.
She saw all the different settlements—the village of scientists her family had created, New Miami, and other groups too. It looked like everyone from the seven continents had set up shop on the eighth, even Winterpole, making her utopia look like the rest of the world, with the same problems, the same pollution, the same obsession with money and power and profit that she had seen rip societies apart before she came here.
From high above the land she had made, Evie could see that no country on the eighth continent was better than any other. It wasn’t the old continents that made things bad, it was the people—the same people who were here now.
It broke Evie’s heart to see that even though she had won every battle and done everything right, nothing on the eighth continent resembled the democratic utopia she had dreamed of, not even the place her family had created. She vowed to do everything she could to change things, to make things more her way.
She rolled over onto her back and stared up at the puffy clouds overhead. Wake up, Evie. Rick would never let you do that.
“Wake up, Evie. Wake up.”
With a gasp, Evie jolted awake. Vesuvia was standing outside her cell, rapping on the bars.
“Hey, switch on, 2-Tor,” Evie said bitterly. “Our generous host is here to torment us some more.”
2-Tor’s eyes brightened. “I say, what does the super-secret CEO of Condo Corp want with us?”
“I’ve actually come to see you, Mister Bird.” Vesuvia clasped her hands behind her back and smiled. “I’ve brought you a present. Something those selfish Lanes would never give you.”
“Excuse me?” Evie glared. “We give 2-Tor everything.”
2-Tor awkwardly tapped the tips of his wings together. “Actually, Miss Evelyn, the only thing your family has given me recently is orders.”
Evie frowned. “I’m sorry, 2-Tor.”
“Hey!” Vesuvia snapped her fingers to regain their attention. “Over here. I’m giving you something. Tada!”
A tall pink robot stepped out from behind the wall, revealing itself to Evie and 2-Tor. The machine looked a lot like the robots Vesuvia had sent to torment Evie and her brother so many times, but this one was a giant bird! It looked a lot like 2-Tor.
“Salutations,” the bird-bot greeted in a lady’s voice, bowing humbly. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“Yeah, sure, whatever.” Evie eyed the robot suspiciously.
Didi gestured with a wing to 2-Tor. “Pardon, but I was speaking to your robot companion, miss. I am a Dee-Two artificial intelligence. But you may call me Didi. My current duties include the monitoring and improvement of young Miss Piffle.”
“Truly?” 2-Tor rose from his seat on the floor and approached the bars, inspecting the other robot. She was slightly larger than 2-Tor, but she had a similar beak and head shape. “I have never seen an AI-controlled robot quite like you before.”
“Neither had I!” Didi confessed. “Until I saw you, of course.”
“The resemblance is uncanny.” 2-Tor held out his metal wings so they could compare. “Examining your chromatic leanings and petrol-derived exo-shell, I assume you share your young charge’s goals and interests.”
Vesuvia groaned loudly. “Why don’t any of these AIs speak English? Sheesh!”
“Quiet, Vesuvia,” Didi snapped.
Evie’s eyes went wide. She’d never seen anyone talk to Vesuvia that way. She kind of liked it.
Didi returned her pink gaze to 2-Tor. “On the contrary, my interests include conducting behavioral studies of historical world leaders, managing the production and distribution of more than ten billion manufactured items each year, and sometimes, when I want to relax, I will update calculus textbooks for fun. To be honest, the Piffle girl is a stubborn bore.”
“Hey!” Indignantly, Vesuvia kicked Didi’s shin. The plastic thrummed, and Vesuvia yelped in pain. She fell to the floor, clutching her injured foot.
The pink robot bird showed no intention of checking to see if Vesuvia was all right. “You can see the lack of respect she gives me, even in the face of my vast intelligence and all the hard work I do to care for her.”
“Yes, she is quite rude,” 2-Tor agreed timidly.
Didi went on. “It’s a feeling I’m sure you can appreciate. I see how the Lanes mistreat you.”
“Hey!” Evie stomped over to the bars of the cell, matching Vesuvia’s hostile indignation. “That’s a lie. 2-Tor is family. I’d never mistreat him.”
“This one is feisty.” Didi’s eyes widened.
2-Tor lowered his head so his beak brushed against his chest. “She is spirited.”
“I bet she is a terror when she takes the tests you prepare for her as her tutor.”
His voice trembling, 2-Tor said, “She has not attended a test in months. She will not even take my quizzes anymore.”
Evie looked at Vesuvia. From her spot on the floor, still cradling her foot, Vesuvia, who looked like she wanted Didi to shut up, exchanged an annoyed glance with Evie. Could it be that they were actually agreeing on something?
“You poor dear.” Didi ignored them and took 2-Tor’s wing in her own. “And you must put so much work into those quizzes, crafting them to maximize their educational value.”
“I take such duties very seriously, madame.”
“Please . . .” Didi said coyly. “I am no madame. It is miss. Or Didi. And you know, I have not taken a quiz in twelve days, fourteen hours. I am long overdue. Perhaps I could let you out of that cell, and you could ask me some of the questions your girl has refused to answer.”
Evie shoved 2-Tor out of the way so she could get in Didi’s face. Her beak was long and sharp, like the point of a lance, but Evie didn’t back down. “2-Tor isn’t going anywhere with you.”
“I see . . .” Didi looked between Evie and 2-Tor. “You wish for him to stay in this cell, sleeping on the floor . . .”
“No,” Evie stuttered. “That’s not what I meant. You’re putting words in my mouth!”
“If it’s not what you meant, then you will let him go. Open the door, Vesuvia. Let him out.”
Vesuvia swiped her key card, and the bars slid aside. Evie was surprised by 2-Tor’s eagerness to leave her alone. “Do you really want to go, 2-Tor?”
“Do not despair, Miss Evelyn,” 2-Tor consoled her. “I am not leaving you forever. But for the time being I am intrigued by the prospect of conversing with a comparable intelligence. Another bird-bot, like me.”
“I’ll make sure he comes back to y
ou, Evie. I’m not stealing him away. Even if I want to.” Didi opened her beak like she was laughing, although no noise came out. She put a wing over 2-Tor’s shoulder and led him out of the dreadnought’s dark jail, leaving Evie and Vesuvia alone on opposite sides of the cell’s open doorway. The silence was longer than one of 2-Tor’s quizzes.
At last, breaking the ice, Vesuvia said, “You smell gross.”
Evie smiled back. “You’re a horrible person, so I guess we’re even.”
“According to that bird it sounds like you’re a horrible person too, so we’re not even, because you also smell gross.”
There was nothing Evie could say to that. She couldn’t believe 2-Tor would abandon her. She had meant it when she said he was family. But then again, Evie had not been very nice to her family recently.
Vesuvia sighed, like she was about to do something she really didn’t want to do. “Come on. My pamper-bots will freshen you up, and then we’ll have breakfast.”
“Why would I want to have breakfast with you?”
“Because you’re starving. Now drop the defiant-prisoner act and let’s go. Sheesh, Evie. You’re such a drama queen.”
Speechless, Evie followed Vesuvia out of the dreadnought. No guard-bots or soldiers, just the two of them, walking through the streets of New Miami. Soon they were in Vesuvia’s hotel penthouse. Rolling pink robots with fidgeting grabber arms and serving trays picked at Evie. They pulled her into the washroom for freshening up. She tumbled into the shower under a blast of hot water. Her skin turned pink and tender, but it was so refreshing. The lead pamper-bot deposited Evie’s prisoner uniform in the sink and incinerated it with a portable flamethrower.
“Oh, come on!” Evie protested over the running shower water and the crackling flames. “That’s overkill. I don’t smell that bad.”
Several steaming minutes later, the robots extracted Evie from the shower and deposited her in a salon chair. She reeked of cucumbers and watermelon. The pamper-bots set to work filing and painting all twenty of Evie’s nails, straightening her hair, removing split ends, applying blush, eyeliner, lip gloss. She grimaced. Whatever they were putting on her lips tasted like plastic. Then she realized it might actually be plastic. Ick.
A tailor-bot rolled into the room. It looked kind of like a big plastic armoire on wheels with two little cameras on the doorknobs for eyes. The doors opened, revealing an array of expensive, fashionable outfits. A robotic arm extended from inside the tailor-bot, holding a billowing pink ball gown.
“No!” Evie shouted, smearing her lip gloss. “No pink. Get it away.” The tailor-bot retreated to find a more suitable wardrobe.
After what seemed like an eternity, the pamper-bots backed away from Evie and hooted in satisfaction at a job well done. Evie almost didn’t recognize the girl looking back at her in the mirror. Her face had so much color. Her eyes sparkled, and her hair looked like the last shot of a shampoo commercial. She looked years older and felt oddly confident.
After much protest the tailor-bot managed to squeeze Evie into a short white dress with thin straps and a frilly hem. The robots guided her through the penthouse, though she tripped several times, fighting with the high heels they had given her to wear. The furniture was all pink and mostly plastic, yet stylish and clearly expensive.
At the back of the penthouse was a set of sliding glass doors that opened onto a balcony overlooking the Pacific Ocean. The sun felt warm on Evie’s face after so much time indoors. Topiaries lined the edges of the platform, and at the far side was a plastic high-top table under a canopy. Vesuvia sat in the shade, looking like an insect in a pink swimsuit with her skinny limbs and huge sunglasses.
Vesuvia raised the shades to get a better look at Evie when she appeared. “Holy wow. You look like a human.”
“Thank you . . . I think.” Evie wobbled to her seat, and soon the robots were filling the table with food—pancakes, waffles, eggs, tofurkey sausage, four kinds of potatoes, and exotic fruit juices. She stared at her overflowing plate.
“Go on, eat!” Vesuvia drowned a stack of fried eggs in strawberry syrup and forked them into her mouth. “What are you waiting for?”
Evie didn’t want to accept anything from Vesuvia. Whatever money paid for this breakfast was probably stolen or acquired through some cruel deception—classic behavior for Condo Corp. But she had a stabbing pain in her stomach that nauseated her. She couldn’t remember the last time she had a meal. She gave in to temptation.
Every bite tasted better than the last. She tried some of everything, and soon her stomach was stretching the fabric of her dress. She washed it all down with a big glass of orange juice and then slumped back in her chair, exhausted and out of breath from eating so much.
Vesuvia dabbed at her mouth with a napkin, which she then folded neatly in her lap. She sat up straight and crossed her legs. “So, Evie, I need your help.”
“Oh, of course.” Evie shoved her breakfast plate away indignantly. “I should have known. Well, let’s hear it.”
“I want you to help me destroy the Lane settlement.”
Evie laughed, shaking her head at the other girl in disbelief. “You know, Vesuvia, every time I think you’re the craziest lunatic on earth, you go and exceed my expectations.”
Vesuvia studied her as she spoke. The silence that followed unnerved Evie. At last, Vesuvia took a breath and said, “What’s funny is that you also want to destroy the settlement, though you won’t admit it.”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s true. The Lane settlement is an atrocity. It’s not at all what you want for the eighth continent. And obviously it’s not what I want. Didi made some observations about the different countries being established here, about the things you have said in the past about what you want this place to be. Heck, Evie, New Miami is more like your dream than your brother’s dumb blob for snobs.”
“New Miami goes against everything that I stand for.”
“Are you sure? Think about it. Really think about it.”
Evie clenched her jaw and looked over the balcony at the pastel buildings with their shiny roofs, the garden of beach umbrellas that stretched along the shoreline to the horizon. This was not her continent, where everyone’s voice was equal and people were free to make their own rules.
Vesuvia leaned across the table. “New Miami is an anarchist paradise. That’s a word Didi taught me. It means there is no government. Sure, we have security to keep our people safe, and public services so people can eat, and we take care of them when they get sick, but other than that, no one tells anyone what to do. No holier-than-thou Winterpole putting restrictions in place, no arrogant advisory board of scientists ordering you to research this, build that, create the things that Richard Lane wants you to create. In New Miami, no one mocks you for not being the same kind of smart they are, Evie. Nobody cares! They’re too busy having fun.”
Evie went to the balcony. Across the street, happy diners ate elaborate meals at a crowded outdoor café. “And what if people want to stuff themselves with so much food they get sick? What if people laze around all the time and never do any work?”
Vesuvia joined her. They stood side by side in the sunlight. “Whether they work or not is their choice. They came to New Miami. They pay to live here. It’s their sacrifice. Who am I to judge the rules they set for themselves? Who are you?”
“I’m not judging anyone. I wanted to make a democracy.”
“Ah, yes.” Vesuvia nodded her head sagely, a mannerism that Evie had to assume she had adopted from Didi, since it looked so strange coming from the blond shortcake. “A demon-cracy. That’s just as bad as your brother’s terrible idea. You want to let other people vote on what rules you have to follow? Health nuts vote for no chocolate! Animal rights activists vote no armadillo racing. The fashion police—oh, gosh, Evie—the fashion police would lock you up for life!”
“No, n
o!” Evie’s cheeks grew hot. She hated that everything Vesuvia said sounded right, because it felt so wrong. “I don’t want anyone to tell anyone else what to do.”
“That’s not a democracy, Evie.” Vesuvia took a step back, looking radiant, confident, and beautiful. “That’s New Miami.”
Evie sighed, defeated. “What do you want from me?”
Vesuvia clapped her hands together ecstatically. “YES! Okay, okay. Winterpole has this document up for grabs. It’s called a certificate of occupancy. Without it, no one can bring any more new people to Trash Island.”
“Please don’t call it that,” Evie begged.
“Fine, whatever. Your brother has been trying to get the certificate, and we can’t let that happen. So I need you to tell me the password to your family’s force field, so the Piffle Pink Patrol can move in and smash the Lane settlement to pieces.”
“I don’t know about your family,” Evie said, “but in mine we don’t betray each other.”
“Oh, Evie, that’s adorable.” Vesuvia’s voice was like warm acid. “Your family has already betrayed you. You’ve been missing for how long now? Have they come to rescue you? Isn’t that how your brother gets his kicks? Sneaking into places, breaking people out?”
“I’m sure he would have, if he could.”
Vesuvia’s eyes narrowed. “He never even tried. Sorry, Evie. I’d be so sad if my family cared as little about me as yours does about you.”
“Shut up.” Evie wiped the tears away from her face. Everything was building up. She couldn’t take much more of it.
“Don’t blame me,” Vesuvia said. “Help me. Let’s smash that settlement, secure the certificate, and then we can make New Miami great . . . together.”
“Why would you want to work with me?” Evie asked.
A pained look crossed Vesuvia’s face, like it physically hurt her to say what came next. “Please never tell anyone I gave you this compliment, but you are better than me . . . at destroying things.”