“Perhaps moving backward is an inappropriate metaphor. The truth of the matter is that you were propelled here faster than the speed of light, so you actually arrived here before you left the last place you were in!”
“But nothing moves faster than light!” John declared.
“Oh, yes it does,” said the toad with authority, “you came here much faster than the speed of light; you came here at the speed of thought.”
John pondered the absolute ridiculousness of this whole scenario for a moment before he began feeling strange. It was as if the whole conversation had taken his consciousness to the edge of a whirlpool and pushed it in, and now he was beginning to drown. He found himself gasping hopelessly for the air of sanity, and then suddenly, everything went black.
Chapter 5
DISCOMBOBULATION
It was a beautiful sunset, he thought as he opened his eyes and stared at the golden orb disappearing over the horizon. He wondered why he’d never seen it from this viewpoint before. He seemed to be high, high up. The houses of the town were laid out in rows below, and hundreds and hundreds of leafy trees were scattered between them; it really was a very picturesque scene.
He wondered where on earth he could be; his cheek was lying on a cold, rough surface. He looked down: roof tiles, he realized, just as he began to slip backwards very slowly.
ROOF TILES! he thought. His fingers instinctively clung to the edge of the slippery tile closest to his hand, but it was loose. It dislodged, clattered past him and fell into a long silence before he heard it smash to pieces far below.
What on earth was he doing on a roof? He was scared, very scared. The sun had quickly disappeared and it was now dark. He had no idea which roof he was on, or why. He only knew he was perched at a precarious forty-five degree angle, and gravity was busily tugging at his frame.
He slid again, and he felt his feet suspended in space, but as he was about to slip off completely, he gripped the edge of a sturdy-looking tile with one hand and clung to it for dear life. Miraculously, he spun around until his whole body was lying in the gutter. Below him he could make out the dim features of the schoolyard. Down there, that’s where I want to be; standing on my own two feet, he thought, just as gravity won the tug of war, pulled him over the edge, and sent him hurtling to the ground.
Instead of smashing into the concrete below, however, he fell into a void—a void that supported him, lifted, and transformed him, and before he knew what had happened, he found himself standing in the schoolyard staring up at the roof. He was dumbfounded; he tried looking back on the experience, but it just felt oddly—normal!
“Who’s there?” a voice rang out, and the beam of a flashlight danced over the wall. John scrambled off into the shadows and watched as a security guard appeared. “I know you’re there,” he shouted, “I saw you.” The guard waved his light around and listened intently until he saw the shattered roof tile lying on the ground. He took a long look up at the roof, shone his beam up there and paused for a moment, before shrugging his shoulders, shaking his head, and walking away.
***
Outside the window the birds were busy composing a dawn chorus, and John was lying fast asleep in his bed. Opening his eyes, he yawned and stretched—then he remembered yesterday. Was it yesterday, or was it all just a bad nightmare? It had started out real, he knew that, but then it deteriorated into the most complete nonsense he’d ever experienced, and he knew without a doubt that if he tried explaining it to anyone they would think he was making it up.
He decided that it must have been a nightmare, and as a precautionary measure to assure it would never happen again, he decided it was time to throw out his collection of comic books and, just for good measure, he would clean up his room. After all, he reasoned, a tidy room means a tidy mind.
That morning the shower had never felt so good. He remembered an old song he’d heard somewhere and sang.
“I’m gonna trap my troubles in soap bubbles
‘cause they’re nasty, and grimy, and gray,
I’m gonna trap my troubles in soap bubbles
and watch them float away.
He washed and soaped, cleaned and hoped, and bundled and roped the comic books until he believed that everything was right in the world, and he was sitting in the kitchen tying the last bundle of comic books when his mother came in.
“You’re up early,” she said, running her fingers through his hair and kissing the top of his head.
“Yeah,” he replied, “I’m getting rid of these comic books. The stories are silly, and my mind needs facts, not science fiction.”
“Whatever’s gotten into you?” she asked. “You’ve even cleaned up your room.” She gazed at him quizzically.
“You’re always asking me to do it, aren’t you?”
“I am,” she laughed as she raised her eyebrows, “but it never worked before. Are you worried about something?”
“Worried!” he repeated with a snort and a laugh. “Me? No! I’m a kid; what have I got to be worried about?”
“Well, you’re acting very strangely,” she said, scrutinizing him. “You must be hungry; why don’t we have some bacon and eggs for breakfast?” She opened the fridge and looked inside.
“Yeah, I’m as hungry as a bear,” John said, and he immediately burst into a cloud of shiny particles that metamorphosed into a brown bear cub. The little bear stared at his paws in disbelief; fear filled his eyes.
“Would you like fried or scrambled?” his mother asked, gazing into the refrigerator, and the bear cub roared in reply. Stunned by the wild outcry, her head jerked up at the noise and hit the roof of the fridge. “Ouch!” she yelled, as the bear thrashed around at the table behind her, his huge paw swiping a glass of milk and sending it careening to the floor.
***
This time there was no journey across outer or inner space; there wasn’t even any time to think. John was bursting with anger and embarrassment; it seemed like all he did was blink, and when he opened his eyes, he was staring into those of a kindly old man sitting in a comfortable leather chair beside a fireplace.
“I see you’re beginning to play with time and space,” he said with a chuckle as he tugged at the woolen blanket covering his legs.”
John was livid, and he was just about to scream at the old man when he realized he had no idea who he was! “Are you the toad? Or the mouse?” he asked suspiciously.
“Goodness no,” the old man replied with a titter, “You can completely disregard anything that showboat says; he’s all flash and pizzazz, no substance. I am the Master of the Simple Taste, at your service!”
The old man had a warmth and a sincerity that completely deflated John’s self-absorbed arrogance and pride. “You must help me,” he pleaded. “I’m completely lost, I have no idea who I am, and I’m losing my mind.”
“Putting one foot in front of the other can feel that way in any arena, can’t it?
John stared at him in disbelief as he sat laughing softly. “You don’t understand,” he said pitifully, “All I said was, I’m as hungry as a bear, and I turned into one, sitting at my own kitchen table. A bear! A wild beast!”
“It does seem preposterous doesn’t it?” the old man replied.
“Preposterous!” John rejoined, losing it. “My life is over! I’m a bear, and my mother’s going to see me, and they’re going to come and shoot me or lock me up and put me on display!”
“Oh boo-hoo,” said the old Master. “One little complexity in your life and you give up without even knowing what lies beyond it!”
“You are a cruel and evil old man,” John retorted, “It’s your fault that I’m in this position, and you refuse to help me to get out of it!”
“It’s not my fault you’re here,” whispered the old Master. “You’re here because someone in your universe is trying to change the structure of matter.”
“But that’s got nothing to do with me!” exclaimed John.
“Doesn’t it?” the old Master
asked. “When the structure of matter changes because there’s consciousness behind it, it shifts through its smallest components into that which the consciousness determines. Sound familiar?”
John considered his immediate predicament. “Kind of,” he mumbled.
“And if the ones that are trying to attain this knowledge are not stopped, the universe and everything in it will be obliterated, and nothing will be left—nothing!”
“You can’t be suggesting that I should do something about it?”
“Everything depends on you now; you must take charge of the situation!”
“But I don’t understand anything about what’s going on here; I can’t be expected to understand. I’m just a kid!”
“Fate often makes incomprehensible choices,” the old Master muttered, as his rheumy eyes closed and he fell asleep.
John stared at him in disbelief as the logs on the fire crackled and sparks burst into the air and floated up the chimney. He wanted to reach out and grab those tired old limbs hunched before him in the chair, but try as he might he couldn’t move.
The scenery around him began to dissolve—slowly at first, and then swiftly, until he found himself back at the familiar old kitchen table, swiping energetically at thin air in the form of the very ordinary teenager he was.
“What on earth are you doing?” his mother cried.
“Nothing, I was just pretending to be a bear,” he said with relief, as he watched the hair disappear from his paws and his fingers come back.
“But you spilled the milk!” she exclaimed, as she turned to face him.
“Sorry, it was an accident,” he said apologetically.
She stared at him with an exasperated look on her face. “Well, you can just clean that mess up,” she commanded, turning back to the fridge.
John sagged; he’d gotten away with it, but what weighed so heavily on him was the fact that everything he’d experienced was real, and it had nothing to do with comic books or nightmares. Plus, he was scared stiff because his comfortable world had changed into something he could no longer comprehend, and he had no idea what he was going to do about it!
Chapter 6
THE FLY
On the videotape Doctor Leitz could just make out the presence of a figure leaping onto the chair as the MOLECULAR ACCELERATOR BEAM fired. He wound the tape backwards and forwards, examining every frame, as Hunter stood at the window dialing a number on his mobile phone.
Leitz had suspected there was a reason his experiment had not worked the way it should. He had checked and rechecked all of his data, and it was just the way he had calculated it. He had scrutinized all the equipment in the lab, and everything was working perfectly.
Therefore, he calculated, the only logical conclusion was that an outside influence had corrupted the outcome of the experiment. When he first looked at the videotape, there was so much light in the room he had seen absolutely nothing. However, when he started to play with the contrast and brightness controls, at a certain point on the scale he had found a shape moving frame by frame; a shape he was sure was a kid.
“Miss Moon, it’s Hunter; are we scrambled?” Hunter turned from the window, walked to the video monitor, and stared at it over Doctor Leitz’ shoulder. “Good,” he continued. “Listen, you’d better get down here. The Doc has something amazing, but you’d think I was nuts if I tried to explain it to you. You have to see it for yourself. There is a slight problem, though; I think we blew one of the kids to pieces.”
Doctor Leitz paused the videotape where impact took place and they both gazed at the blurred figure on the screen—the size and shape of a child—halfway dissolved into a cloud of particles.
***
Amelia Moon hung up the phone. She was a complicated woman and she knew it—in fact, she liked it. She took great pride in the fact that she was as tough as nails even though her feminine appearance indicated otherwise. She had never been really close to anybody in her whole life apart from Doctor Angstrom, to whom she was devoted. But the truth was, she was devoted to him because he wasn’t a threat to her.
She loved the fact that he was rich; it provided her with an exceptionally comfortable lifestyle, and she returned the favor by taking care of the mundane and irrelevant details that would only serve to clutter his brilliant mind. It was a symbiotic relationship that would one day serve the greater good of mankind, for she was sure that with her aid and guidance, Doctor Angstrom would one day hold the world in the palm of his hand; and she would be right there beside him—his confidante and his queen.
She shivered with anticipation—nothing would stop her; this was a crusade, and in crusades there are casualties. This unfortunate child, whoever he or she was, just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, and her duty now was to exercise damage control, sweep it under the carpet and pretend it never happened.
***
John peered around the corner of one of the old buildings and gazed at the long, black limousine parked in the schoolyard. Just yesterday he had been a normal kid with normal problems, but now he was a freak of nature, and there was no one he could talk to about it.
He had thought about bringing it up with his mother, but it was such a ridiculous story that she, or anyone for that matter, would have thought he needed serious therapy. That morning she had left for Las Vegas, and for the first time in his life he was truly alone. He had considered going to school, but there were too many burning questions that needed answers. So he had gone to his room and dressed in black; he had seen enough movies to know that dressing in black is a prerequisite for undercover work.
Feeling like a spy or one of his comic book heroes, he stood in the early morning cold, ready for action. He planned to go back to where all his problems had begun—the limousine. He darted across the schoolyard, hoping he wasn’t seen, and ducked down beside the vehicle. He tried peering in through the windows, but the glass was so dark all he could see was his own reflection. He grabbed the passenger door handle, and pushed the catch that released the lock. It opened; he filled his heart with courage and climbed inside.
The interior was luxurious with deep, soft carpet and plush white leather seats. The leather permeated the air with its distinctive aroma. It was like a studio apartment; there was so much room, but he was mystified at how empty it was. There was nothing here.
How could he have been so dumb; what on earth did he think he would find in the back of a limousine? In frustration and anger he hit the armrest on the seat with his fist and it bounced open and quickly sprang shut again. He stretched out his hand and lifted the cover up tentatively. Inside were two telephones nestled snugly side by side.
Feeling vulnerable snooping in the car, he scanned the schoolyard to assure himself that no one else was around. He grabbed one of the telephones and lifted it to his ear, and hearing nothing more distinctive than a regular dial tone, he threw it back onto its cradle. He picked up the second phone and a voice immediately responded, “Central, please give the department code!” He froze, and the voice insisted, “Central, please give the department code!”
As his heart began to pound, he cut off the phone and quickly threw it back too. Could they trace him? He scanned the entire schoolyard once again as he told himself to calm down. Someone could have knocked the phone off the hook; they had no way of knowing who was at the other end. He was just being paranoid.
He would rapidly become his own worst enemy if he didn’t compose himself. He had read about and watched secret agents all his life, and he’d understood that the one singular ability they had above all others was to control their thoughts. They had to think positively and not negatively. In this business a negative thought equaled death, and he could not afford one.
He stared down at the armrest; above the phones was a row of three tiny white buttons. He lifted his finger and hovered over the first. There was negative thought and then there was caution, he told himself. Suppose this button was an ejection seat; how foolish he would look flying hig
h in the air above the schoolyard, screaming his brains out. He slipped down onto the soft-carpeted floor, just in case, closed his eyes and stabbed the button down.
A soft swish came from the built-in cabinet beside him; when he opened his eyes, he was staring at a tray containing a decanter of liquor and some glasses. He pushed the button again and it slid back inside—the woodwork was so expertly made it almost disappeared.
He began feeling more like a spy and enjoying himself, so he pushed the second button and watched a tray slide out from another location in the cabinet. This one had a cover over it; when he lifted it up, he saw that it contained a gun and some spare ammunition clips. He hit the button again and it too receded back into the cabinet.
The third button revealed the treasure he was hoping for; a tiny television with a built-in video player. He pushed the play button and a picture of the school flashed onto the screen accompanied by the voice of an announcer.
“…in a partnership between Doctor Angstrom and Doctor Leitz. You are to deliver the equipment and determine the status of his experiments, and if the results are satisfactory, contact Miss Moon at the head office.”
As the tape ended John wondered what he had missed. He scanned the schoolyard once again and pushed the rewind button as he turned his attention back to the television, and just as he did, the driver walked out of the building and headed for the car.
What is the strange nature of videotape that makes it take forever when it’s going backwards? John thought to himself. Even though it’s going super-fast, it just goes on, and on, and on, and on.
The driver stopped in front of the car and scrutinized the grill. Pulling out a handkerchief from his pocket, he crouched down.
The Subatomic Kid Page 5