The Drake Equation

by Bart King

  “Okay, these are alphabetical. There’s ABSQUATULATE, CEILOMETER, DIVARICATE—”

  “Go to ‘F’ and see if there’s one that makes you fly!” said Jason.

  I sighed, and kept scrolling. As I did, my finger slipped into the center dip on the back of the quincunx. And a new screen appeared:

  NEW ADEPTNESS CHOICES?

  “Hey, check it out! The quincunx is asking me a question!”

  The twins huddled around me, which was silly, since they couldn’t see anything. So I read the question aloud.

  “How stupid is this thing?” asked Jason. “Of course you want a new adeptness. But how can you text back?”

  Jenny shot him a warning look. “Careful, Jason. The quincunx might have voice recognition software. Say something to it, Noah!”

  I cleared my throat awkwardly. “Hello?”

  The pop-up screen remained.

  “Try answering the question,” suggested Jason.

  “Right.” It felt strange, but I spoke to the quincunx. “Um, yes?”

  The pop-up window popped out of sight. But newly revealed were two menu choices that I could select:

  FIRE [SAPID]

  FIRE [TEPEFY]

  “Uh-oh,” I said.

  “What?” Jason was practically hopping up and down with excitement. “What’s it say now?”

  “There’s two choices, but both say FIRE—”

  “Fire power!” Jason exulted. “Dude, it’s every kid’s dream. We have to go find out what it does!”

  I gave Jenny a please talk some sense into your brother look.

  “Well, we DID just come up with some safety guidelines,” she said.

  I grimaced and pretended to choke on something. But I was also thinking about what I’d learned about the quincunx so far. If I kept the connection short and made sure that the quincunx was far away from my ear…

  “C’mon, Noah,” Jason begged. “You know what your girlfriend, Mrs. Sanchez, would say: experiment.”

  “First of all, Mrs. Sanchez is NOT my girlfriend,” I said. And second of all, if I did have a girlfriend, her name would be Anemona.

  I looked at the twinkling quincunx. I’d used it three times so far and nothing bad—okay, nothing very bad—had happened yet. Maybe Jenny was right.

  I made a decision. “Inside or outside?”

  “Outside,” said the twins simultaneously.

  “Let’s head over to Berkeley Park,” said Jenny. “There’s a big pond there, in case we need it.” As Jason ran out the door, Jenny gave me a look.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Nothing,” she shrugged. “You just surprise me, that’s all. Now stop scratching your scar, and let’s go.”

  * * *

  Even from the pond, I could hear the kids on the other side of the park. A shout carried from the playground: “I’m next on the Möbius Fun Climb!”

  That kid’s got a death wish, I thought. Then I looked down at the sparkling quincunx in my hand. And maybe that makes two of us.

  Loud chirping from a nearby tree caught my attention. Peering up into its branches, I spotted the blackish-purple sheen of a male great-tailed grackle (Quiscalus mexicanus). And just like that, I broke out in a cold sweat. THE BLACK SWIFT. Now it had been two whole days since I’d spotted the bird. Discovering the quincunx was making me forget to take care of the most important thing of all!

  “Are you okay?” I could barely hear Jason’s shout. He was standing behind an elm tree about fifty yards away.

  “You look kind of freaked-out, Noah.” Jenny was on a nearby paved trail. She was leaning her chin on her palms, watching me. “Getting cold feet?”

  “More like a heat rash.” I took a deep breath. “Preparing to access FIRE!” And RIGHT after this, I’m reporting my black swift sighting.

  Jenny nodded, and Jason slid behind his tree.

  In case you’re worried, yes, I knew it was dangerous to play with FIRE. So our foolproof plan was for me to throw any little sparks or massive fireballs that might come my way into the pond. Getting ready, I accessed the menu and thought about my two choices. I didn’t know what “tepefy” meant, but figured “sapid” was just a misprint for “rapid.” You know, like “rapid fire”?

  So I made my decision, and the quincunx screen flashed.

  FIRE [SAPID]

  FIRE [SAPID]

  FIRE [SAPID]

  Did the quincunx just vibrate? Almost as soon as the quincunx screen started flashing, I pressed its stem to disconnect it. But for an instant, I had the feeling that the quincunx was linking me to…something.

  So I stood there at the water’s edge, waiting for something to happen. And while I waited, I could hear laughter, leaves rustling in the wind, a barking dog.

  The great-tailed grackle chirped.

  But nothing happened with the quincunx. There was no rapid fire or slow fire. There was nothing at all.

  * * *

  “Well, THAT was a letdown,” said Jason, sticking his head in my refrigerator. (He loves scrounging for food at my house.) He pulled out a plastic container. “Whoa, this tofu needs medical attention! Anyway, I thought you were going to throw a fireball for sure.”

  “I don’t get it either,” I said. “And I don’t know what you think you’re going to find in there—my parents only buy probiotic food.”

  Jason reached into a cupboard and started pulling out jars. “I don’t even know what ‘probiotic’ means, but it sounds delicious—”

  And then a warm jolt shot through my entire body and my mouth started watering. “Whoa!”

  “Noah?” said Jenny, spinning to face me. “Are you okay?”

  “My moubt is pull of pit,” I said.

  “It’s FIRE!” yelled Jason, ducking behind the refrigerator. “Go outside, quick!”

  But it was already too late. My eyes had locked on the jar that Jason was holding. It held my focus—and I could feel energy slowly gathering inside of me.

  I gulped. “Dumdinth goin’ to ’appen!” I warned, drooling a little as my mouth flooded with saliva.

  My eyes widened—now the warmth inside me was rushing to my face, to my mouth. It was almost like I was going to cough and barf at the same time. Then I closed my eyes and sneezed loudly.

  It was probably the loudest sneeze I’ve ever sneezed.

  As I opened my eyes, Jason and Jenny were looking back and forth between the jar in Jason’s hand and me.

  Gingerly, I swallowed. My mouth felt normal again.

  “Dude, something just shot out of your mouth,” Jason said, looking at the jar. “And it hit this peanut butter.”

  Jenny rolled over and carefully took the jar from her brother. Unscrewing the lid, she looked inside, then turned the jar so we could see.

  Inside, it was still full of peanut butter. It looked normal enough, but…

  Jason broke the silence. “If we’re going to experiment, let’s experiment.” He grabbed a knife and smeared some of the chunky peanut butter on a thick slice of multigrain bread.

  He held it up to his nose and sniffed. “Smells okay!”

  “Jason,” warned Jenny. “Be careful with that peanut butter!”

  But he bravely bit into it anyway. As Jason started to chew, a look of horror slowly came over his face.

  “Don’t joke around,” warned Jenny. “Are you okay?”

  Jason’s eyes bulged. He flung the bread into the sink and yelled one word: “Fire!” I grabbed the fire extinguisher from next to the stove and aimed it at him. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  Jason turned on the water tap and shoved his mouth under it, ignoring our pleas. He drank and drank and drank some more. He finally stopped slurping, just to breathe.

  “Jason, where’s the fire?”

  “In…my mouth,” he gasped. “It’s really…spicy…peanut butter!”

  When Jason finally pulled away from the water, his face was red, but he seemed okay. “Well, now we know one thing.” He took a deep breath. “Whoever ma
de the quincunx has a bad sense of taste.”

  “Or a good sense of humor,” I added. “Jenny, can you look up ‘sapid’?”

  Jenny pulled her phone out and pecked at it. “It says here that ‘sapid’ means ‘strong flavor.’ Oops.” She smiled at her brother, who was now fanning his tongue with air. “I guess that was an important detail, huh? But Noah, you said there were two FIREs. What was the other one?”

  I told her, and Jenny reported back: “Tepefy: to make tepid or lukewarm,” she read. “Huh? Why would we want to do that?” Her phone beeped, and as Jenny read the incoming text, her face grew serious. “It’s Coby—but how’d he get my number?”

  Jason paused his fanning. “How would I know? That guy can hack into anything.”

  “It doesn’t matter how Coby did it,” I said impatiently. “What does he SAY?”

  Jenny just turned her phone around.

  I read Coby’s text. Then I read it again. (But it said the same thing the second time.)

  TELL NOAH 2 BRING FONE 2 SKOOL TMRW—OR I TELL EVRY1

  I was sweating and my heart hammered in my chest. What do I do now?

  “This is not good,” said Jason. “He just wants to take the quincunx and be an outlaw who shoots ice and…and makes spicy peanut butter.”

  “Maybe.” Jenny frowned in disgust. “Coby breaks so many laws, it’s not even funny.”

  “Huh? What laws?” I asked.

  “The laws of spelling,” Jenny said. Her thumbs flew over the phone’s screen. “I’m writing back.”

  Good luck in the Spelling Bee.

  I WOKE UP STILL FEELING GUILTY. Yes, the last few days had been crazier than the rest of my life added together. But the quincunx had fogged over what I was supposed to be doing.

  As the morning sun shone through my window, it reminded me of what was truly important. Its rays hit a black-headed Canada goose that was gazing out from my “Birds of North America” poster. Eighty years ago, these geese were hunted so much, they were almost extinct in the United States.

  But then people—just regular people—decided to help. They set aside land and food for the birds. And the goose population rebounded, big-time. Today, there are millions of them.

  “Noah, you can make a difference,” the goose on the poster seemed to be saying. “Do it!” Or maybe that was just me talking to myself. Either way, it was a good pep talk. I rolled over and grabbed the completed form on my nightstand.

  RARE WILDLIFE SIGHTING FORM

  Date of sighting: September 7

  Rare wildlife name: Black swift (Cypseloides niger)

  Number of animals seen: One adult bird

  IMPORTANT: Photos/video/audio are strongly encouraged to verify accurate claims.

  Was a photo taken? No.

  Was video recorded? No.

  Was audio recorded? No.

  How was your species ID made? I saw the bird and heard its call.

  Describe the physical features that you think identify this animal: I saw a black swift, about twenty centimeters long, with a fan-shaped tail. Also, I heard a plik-plik-plik-plik call.

  General site of sighting: Noyd Woods Nature Preserve, Santa Rosa, CA

  Land owner of site: The Noyd family

  Specific location/description of habitat: A small river runs through Noyd Woods. At the base of Pleasant Ridge, it has a waterfall—Noyd Falls. The black swift seems to be nesting behind that waterfall.

  IMPORTANT: Are there any plans to build near this site? No.

  Has this species ever been seen at this location? I don’t think so.

  What wildlife background and experience do you have that can give validity to your claim? In first grade, I was named my school’s “Birder of the Year.” I have memorized the scientific names of almost all North American bird species. Oh, and my science project last year, “The Drake Equation,” was about local wood ducks.

  If needed, will you accompany a fish and wildlife official to this location? Yes!

  Even though I knew what I’d seen, filling out my contact information on the back of the form still made me nervous. What if the person who read it just dismissed me as some kid who didn’t have any evidence to prove his claim?

  Last night, I’d given the same information online at the Department of Fish and Wildlife Service Web site, but to be safe, I’d printed out a copy to mail the old-fashioned way, too. So after double-checking to make sure the details were right, I sealed the form in an envelope. Then I hopped out of bed, threw on a T-shirt and cargo shorts, and checked the clock. I only had a minute, but I wanted to read a little more about my new friends at the nature preserve.

  From my shelf, I picked up a book about black swifts that I’d bookmarked.

  “—I thought there could be a black swift nest in a local sea cave. But I found I could only get to the spot at low tide. After timing my approach to the cave between waves (and still nearly drowning), I was rewarded by the sight of a moss-bordered nest high on a rock ledge. And there, looking calmly down at me like a little feathered prince, was a baby black swift.”

  Wow! I closed the book and sighed. And then an unwelcome thought intruded—Coby wanted me to bring the quincunx back to school.

  Fine, I thought defiantly. I’ll do that. I went to my closet and reached down into my dirty clothes hamper. My fingers felt through my laundry, then closed around a small cardboard box. Yep, my clothes hamper was the perfect hiding place. After all, I did my own laundry. So who was ever going to dig around in my grimy T-shirts and sweat socks? Nobody!

  Of course, since the quincunx was alive, I couldn’t just throw it in next to the laundry. That would be, like, animal cruelty. (Or was it a plant?) Either way, I’d punched a few holes into a cardboard box that a compass had come in, then set the quincunx into it.

  “Sorry about that,” I murmured, opening the box and slipping the quincunx into my pocket. I was feeling good and confident. Sure, Coby obviously wanted to get his hands on the quincunx. Who wouldn’t? But I was pretty sure that the quincunx would protect me.

  Of course, the device was sort of unpredictable—so maybe I was stepping into a trap that I wasn’t seeing. If so, there was one sure way to avoid that trap: I could just skip school.

  And of course, my parents would just love that. No, seriously, they would. Mom and Dad think that it’s “healthy” to break the rules sometimes. For a moment, I closed my eyes and imagined myself hopping on a big black motorcycle in front of our house.

  “No helmet?” Dad says, as the motorcycle’s engine rumbles. “Way to go, son!”

  Mom looks hopeful. “Are you going to play hooky today, Noah?”

  “I don’t play hooky, Mom,” I say, revving the engine. “I take it very seriously.”

  Dad nods happily. “That’s my boy—born to be wild. Now go have yourself an ADVENT—”

  I opened my eyes. I HAD to go to school. True, Coby might somehow get his hands on the quincunx and then use it for some terrible crime. But we had a math test today that counted for 15 percent of our final grade. So I really didn’t have any choice in the matter.

  Grabbing my letter, I went out and ate a bowl of locally grown oatmeal with my parents. Then I hoisted my backpack and headed out. I walked down the block to the blue public mailbox and dropped my black swift report in its slot.

  Next, I headed for my bus stop. It was time to face Coby Cage for the third time in three days. And since I’d also just done something that would hopefully protect an endangered species, I was feeling pretty good about myself.

  I straightened my glasses. My step was firm. My chin was up. I was ready for my appointment with destiny. But to anyone watching, I probably just looked like a big-eared kid with glasses walking to the bus stop.

  The bus lurched to a stop. The door swung open, I hopped aboard, and there was Mr. Berry. At least I think he was there behind his sunglasses, hat, and the thick black beard covering most of his face.

  Scanning the seats, I saw the usual younger kids up front. The
farther to the rear I looked, the older the kids got. Near the very back, Anemona Hartliss *sigh* was nodding in agreement at something someone was telling her.

  And Coby’s usual seat in the back was (thankfully!) empty.

  I looked at Ronnie, who had his head stuck in a math book. (He’s the only kid I know who stresses about homework more than I do.) “S-sorry, Noah,” Ronnie peeped. “Big test today.”

  One thing to know about Santa Rosa is that the kids here ALWAYS sit in the same seats. It’s a really big deal. And if someone changes seats, everyone notices. It’s like changing nationalities. So Monique Wilson and her little brother always sat behind Ronnie and me. But both of them were absent, so as the bus jerked onward, I walked past my usual spot and slid into their empty seat.

  I remembered Jason’s question from the day I found the quincunx: “Why does Coby hate you so much, anyway?” I wished I had an answer. I mean, Coby was meaner than a substitute PE teacher. He was smarter than a chess club captain. But scariest of all, Coby was more unpredictable than a cheap firecracker. You just never knew when he was going to pop up—

  “Hi, Noah,” said a soft voice behind me.

  I smelled lilacs.

  Turning, I saw a girl with a bundle of red hair tied at the back, her glossy lips curved in a smile. Anemona Hartliss. The One. I opened my mouth, but no words came out. My mind was an empty closet. I touched my scar. Seconds passed like hours…and then I got a brilliant idea:

  “Hi,” I answered.

  Anemona laughed like I’d said something clever. It sounded like someone gently shaking a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Then she leaned forward and rested her elbows on the back of my seat. This brought our faces closer together.

  From such a short distance, I was stuck with a problem: Where do I look? Her amazing lips? No. Her big eyes? No! Finally, I settled on her nose. After all, how much could a nose distract me?

  “I have a question for you,” Anemona said. “Can you keep a secret?”