The Age of Amy: Behind the Fun Zone

by BRUCE EDWARDS

  Toby motioned to the guards, and the door swished opened.

  Zac!

  “It’s you!” I said excitedly.

  Zac slouched as he ambled over to me.

  “Are you okay?” I asked him.

  “Yeah, I guess,” he muttered.

  I turned back to Toby. “There’s something you’re not telling me. What does Zac have to do with all this?”

  “Everything,” said Toby. “I lied. There is one person who knows the reset code: Jimmie’s creator.”

  He placed his hand on Zac’s shoulder.

  “Amy Dawson, meet Dr. James Benton, inventor of the Jimmie.”

  Zac looked up at me with puppy dog eyes.

  I burst out laughing.

  “This little nobody? How stupid do you think I am?”

  Zac lifted his eyes and looked straight at me. “It’s true. I would have told you sooner, had I known what a mess I was getting you into. I’m sorry.”

  “And I’m thankful,” said Toby, “to you, Amy. We’ve been searching for this guy for years. No one, not even us, knew what he looked like. Without a Jimmie, there was no way to track his movements. Then you bring him right to our doorstep.”

  Zac angrily slapped Toby’s hand off his shoulder. “Would you like to hear what else I know, Amy? Mr. Goodfellow here, is about to realize a few dreams of his own: a contract to build nuclear weapons for the Defense Department, a wilderness-destroying oil project approved by the EPA. With all of Washington under the influence of Jimmies, Congress is about to pass a bill making Jimmie brain implantation mandatory for all newborns. It’s not marketplace supremacy he’s after, it’s world domination!”

  Toby mockingly clapped his hands. “Well said. With all of your knowledge and insight, I don’t suppose you can tell me who the hackers are.”

  “Sure, I can tell you. They’re little space aliens with pointy ears.”

  Toby stepped in front of me. “As you can see, the good doctor has been very uncooperative. We have so far resisted using any physical forms of persuasion to force the code out of him. That’s why you’re here, to convince him to play ball with us. If you can’t, well, it’ll be too bad for both of you. Maybe a little demonstration is in order.”

  Toby snapped his fingers, and the two burly guards marched over beside me, each grabbing one of my arms.

  Toby leaned in to Zac. “One command from me and they’ll rip her in two. A shame. I was just getting to like her.”

  “Don’t listen to that liar!” I shouted.

  Toby gave the guards a nod. They squeezed my arms so tightly that I thought I was going to faint. I endured the pain as long as I could, then let out a scream.

  “That’s enough!” cried Zac. “You can stop now.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his flip phone.

  I looked at Zac and whimpered, “Please don’t.”

  “What choice do I have?”

  Toby tapped on his tablet. “Ready.”

  Zac started to enter the code, but before he could finish, the clunky device slipped through his fingers. He juggled it in the air just before it hit the floor.

  Toby gasped. “Be careful!”

  Zac reached down to pick it up, but accidentally kicked it with his foot, sending it skating across the floor.

  “You idiot!” shrieked Toby, in full panic mode.

  The phone settled in a narrow gap between two control racks. Another snap of Toby’s fingers and the gorilla guards reached for the phone, but their log-sized arms couldn’t fit through the opening.

  “Let me,” said Toby, then walked over to retrieve it himself.

  With our captors distracted, Zac nudged me and nodded toward the Beam Booth.

  “After you,” he whispered.

  We rushed into the glass cubicle, and as I closed the door behind us, Zac lifted the receiver.

  “Do you know what you’re doing?” I asked.

  “Of course,” said Zac. “I invented this, too.”

  Toby spotted us and ran toward the booth, but he was too late. Zac had already hung up the receiver, and we were now shrouded in darkness.

  “I didn’t want to say this in front of Toby,” said Zac, “but Nell and Fred are in the park.”

  “You saw them?”

  “After blacking out on the merry-go-round, I woke up in the castle dungeon. Nell and Fred were already there. We only had a few minutes together before they were taken away. Where they are now is anybody’s guess, but there’s a good chance they’re still there.”

  “Is that where we’re going?”

  “Yes. Back to the Fun Zone—to finish what we started.”

  Chapter 13

  Belly of the Whale

  I pressed my nose against the glass inside the Beam Booth. “Are you sure you dialed the right number?” I asked Zac.

  “Positive,” he said. “A recorded message would have told me if I didn’t.”

  The black veil surrounding the booth had lifted. We were back at the Fun Zone. A full moon shined down on it from a clear night sky. Good thing, too, because not a single electric light in the park was on. Nothing moved, except for a couple of rats scurrying across the pavement. If any guests were there we didn’t see them.

  “It must have closed early,” said Zac.

  “Yeah, about 50 years early.”

  Somehow, the park had reverted back to its dilapidated state. The moonlight exposed the remains of its long-dead attractions: the broken bones of a Ferris Wheel, the rotting carcass of a derailed train, termites feasting on wooden carousel animal hides.

  “Did your booth take us back in time?” I asked.

  “Not possible,” said Zac. “I should know.”

  I slid open the booth door, and we ventured out into the amusement wasteland.

  Maybe the bright lights of the Fun Zone had all been an illusion from the start. The sights and sounds Jimmies feed your brain can’t always be trusted. Uncle Abner’s bogus view through Nell’s Jimmie-cam was proof of that. But that wouldn’t explain why Zac had experienced all the same things that I did.

  Whatever the reason, this was no time for exploring theories. Toby’s henchmen would soon be on our tails, and we needed to find a hideout—quick!

  Behind us in the dark, I heard the approach of heavy footsteps. Flashlights targeted the empty phone booth. The goon squad had arrived sooner than I thought.

  We raced down the boardwalk and crouched behind a souvenir stand.

  “This isn’t going to work,” I said, out of breath. “We can run all we want, but they’ll see our every move through my Jimmie-cam.”

  Zac poked his head up and looked around. Across the bridge to Fairytale Island was a huge cartoon whale, big as a mountain, its open mouth beckoning guests to slide down into its underground belly.

  “Jimmies can’t see in the dark,” said Zac. He grabbed hold of my hand. “Close your eyes and follow me.”

  The planks of the derelict bridge creaked and sagged under my weight. There were surely gaping holes in the rotting boards that I couldn’t see, but Zac steered me safely around them.

  My foot then bumped into a hard object. I reached down and felt the tips of the whale’s teeth.

  “Can I open my eyes now?” I asked.

  “In a minute,” said Zac. “Sit down. The slide is right under you.”

  He put his arm around my waist, and we began our descent into the belly of the whale.

  Down we went, sailing over bumps and banking around curves. I fell onto my side once, but kept my eyes closed through it all. Finally, we rolled over each other at the bottom for a bumpy, yet secure landing.

  “Where are you,” I said, feeling around me like a blindfolded hostage.

  “Shh!” whispered Zac. “They can still hear you.”

  I slowly pried my eyes open. Very little moonlight made it down the whale’s throat. I could barely make out Zac’s face, but I saw him reach into his pocket and draw out his flip phone.

  “You little trickster!” I sai
d. “You left Toby up there looking for a phone that was in your pocket the whole time. How’d you do that?”

  “A little slight-of-hand trick I learned at the Theme Farm Magic Shop.”

  Zac whisked me to the darkest corner of the dungeon, then extended his phone’s antenna.

  “What are you going to do?” I said. “Call for help?”

  “Keep still,” demanded Zac.

  He brushed my hair back over my ear and held the phone up to my temple. I heard the beep of his touch tone keys. Then my Jimmie Voice spoke to me:

  “I feel funny, Amy. I can’t remember who I am.”

  Then it sang to me, in a low-pitched voice:

  “Daisy, Daisy,

  Give me your answer do.”

  Those were my Jimmie’s last words.

  “It’s safe to talk now,” said Zac.

  I massaged my temple with my finger. “What did you do?”

  “I neutralized your Jimmie.”

  “So, you really are the person Toby said you were.”

  “It’s true.”

  “And that device in your hand is more than a cell phone, isn’t it?”

  “Much more. Resetting the Jimmie system would be impossible without it.”

  “Is it true what Toby said, that all Jimmies will fizzle out from entering the wrong code?”

  “It’s a safeguard I programmed into it in case something went wrong.”

  I cupped my hand over his phone.

  “Do it now!” I said sharply. “Upload the wrong code and wipe the scourge of Toby and his evilness off the face of the Earth!”

  “But that’ll mean the death of my greatest achievement. It’s like asking someone to destroy their own child.”

  I tilted his head up and looked deep into his eyes. My unyielding stare told him I meant business.

  Zac flipped open his phone. He stared at it’s display for a moment, then said:

  “Uh, oh. I was afraid of that.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “We’re out of range. This phone doesn’t transmit well over long distances. If only it had more power.”

  “Maybe the batteries are low.”

  “The batteries are—wait a minute! Your Jimmie! I can tap into its power field to boost the output of my phone’s transmitter.”

  “Great!” I said. “How does that work?”

  “Jimmies are powered by the molecular energy produced by your brain cells. Physical stimulation raises your dopamine levels, and thus generates more power to the microchip. If we can raise your Jimmie’s voltage high enough, I can send the code from here.”

  I tried hard to grasp what Zac had just said, especially the part about physical stimulation.

  “I hate to ask you this next question,” I said, “but how do you plan to stimulate me?”

  “You’re gonna have to kiss me.”

  I glared at him with suspicion. “This is all in the name of science, right?”

  “Don’t wimp out on me now,” he said. “This is too important.”

  Zac tapped on his keypad. A beep sounded. Then he took a step toward me and held the phone against my forehead.

  “Okay,” he said, closing his eyes and puckering his lips.

  I slowly leaned down to him. The task wasn’t going to be a pleasant one, I thought, but how bad could it be?

  Our lips met. It was a good kiss. I sensed that he was more experienced at this than he had let on.

  I slowly backed away and opened my eyes. Zac stood frozen like a statue, still holding his phone in the air. His eyes were closed, but his lips were smiling from ear to ear.

  “Well?” I said, “Enter the code.”

  But Zac was off in some sort of post-pubescent haze, and couldn’t hear me.

  He shook himself awake. “What?”

  “The code!” I cried.

  Zac lowered his phone and closed the lid.

  “There’s no point,” he said. “The system won’t accept my input without Toby first entering an access code.”

  I was furious. “You knew it wouldn’t work all along. Why did you lie to me?”

  Zac looked away, ashamed. “Because I wanted to kiss you.”

  “Well, Dr. James Benton—if that is your real name—you may be some kind of boy genius, but you’re still a boy.”

  “I’m sorry, Amy. My feelings for you just got the better of me.”

  I felt kinda sorry for him. I had been through my own share of teenage crushes, and the devastation you feel when you’re eventually rejected.

  “Don’t take this the wrong way,” I said, “but I did feel a little something from that kiss.”

  That cheered him up.

  “We’ll fry those Jimmies yet,” I said, “and when we do, the chips in people’s brains will—will—what happens to the microchip?”

  “It worms itself out of your system,” said Zac.

  “You mean?”

  “Yes. It will exit your body the same way all human waste does. Your poop will glow in the dark for a couple of days afterwards, that’s all.”

  “Gross!”

  Above us, a flashlight beam shined down the whale’s throat.

  “The goons!” I whispered. “Toby’s on to us. Now what do we do? We can’t go out the way we came in.”

  Zac opened his phone, and by the dim light of its display found a door. He gave the handle a tug. It opened, and we left the whale to feast on bigger fish.

  Crossing the threshold, we found ourselves inside an enormous factory. Long workbenches stretched farther than a city block. There was row after row of them, enough to accommodate thousands of workers. Industrial machines were installed at each work station, but no one was there to run them.

  The plant was obviously used for high-volume garment production. Most all of the mechanical equipment were sewing machines. There were also steam presses, cloth cutters, folding machines, and oil drum-sized rolls of fabric.

  “It’s a sweatshop,” said Zac. “One of those places where they work you like an animal for pennies a day.”

  “Then where are all the workers?” I said. “Out spending their fortunes?”

  Roll-up doors ran the full length of one wall. All of them were closed, but appeared to be the only way in or out of there.

  We had started toward the one nearest us, when a youthful voice called out from somewhere in the cavernous space:

  “Who are you?”

  Zac and I dropped.

  “What was that?” whispered Zac.

  “Take it easy. It might be a trick.”

  “It might also be someone who can help us.”

  I called out, “Who are you?”

  “I work here,” returned the small voice.

  I poked my head up. “Show yourself. We’re not going to hurt you.”

  In the distance, the head of a boy rose amid the acres of machinery.

  Zac stood up, and the boy’s head quickly dropped down out of sight.

  “Don’t be afraid,” said Zac. “We just want to talk to you.”

  The small boy slowly rose to his feet. He wore a Happy Fun Mart uniform, and looked to be around Nell’s age.

  “Are you one of them?” asked the boy timidly.

  “One of who?” I said.

  “The others. The zombies. The ones that work here hour after hour, day after day, like work mules.”

  “Are you a mule?”

  “I used to be, until my Jimmie short-circuited. Now I play along and try not to be noticed while I look for a way out of here.”

  “We’re looking for a way out, too,” said Zac.

  “You are?” said the boy, raising his brow.

  He took a step toward us.

  “Yes,” I said, moving closer to him. “Come with us. We’ll find a way out together.”

  The boy was now facing me from the center of the aisle, when we heard a distant thunder: the sound of a thousand marching feet.

  The boy’s head swung toward the doors.

  “They’re ba
ck!” he cried. The pounding got louder. “Don’t let them see you!”

  A loud clank, and the big metal doors began to roll open. I looked back at the frightened boy, but he was long gone.

  The rising doors revealed hundreds of pairs of boots, marching in unison like a military drill team.

  Zac and I dove under a table and watched the marchers parade past us.

  A knothole in the tabletop allowed me a peek at the zombie workforce. Everyone was dressed like the boy, in HFM uniforms. But unlike the living-dead you see in the movies: these zombies were smiling!

  Arriving at their stations, the workers all sat down at once. Their machines started to hum.

  Zac and I huddled together under the table, tucked back away from the worker’s legs. Then we heard another clank! The doors were closing.

  “We’ll have to run for it,” said Zac.

  We crawled out from under the table and bolted down the aisle. Our door was three-quarters closed as Zac dove under it head first, like a baseball player sliding into home. I followed his lead, but fell short of the plate. I lay on my stomach half-in and half-out, about to be sliced in two by the heavy metal door.

  Zac grabbed my hands. “Hold on!” he shouted, then pulled me to safety, just as the door slammed shut.

  We sat on the floor to catch our breath, leaning against the wall in a long, empty corridor.

  “You think Nell was in there?” I asked.

  “Perhaps you’d like to go back and look!” he lashed back at me.

  His tone caught me off guard. “Why are you so hostile all of a sudden?”

  “Get real, Amy. Did you see how many of them there were? Finding Nell in there would be like finding a needle in a haystack.”

  I glared at him. “I’m surprised at you. You sound like one of those do-nothing Jimmieheads. No one wants to take responsibility for anything anymore. ‘Let it go!’ Isn’t that the popular phrase? Quit now if you want to, but I made a solemn commitment to find Nell, and I’m not letting go of that promise.”

  We put our differences aside, as an electric cart rolled down the hallway in our direction. It was driven by a robot, just like the one I had ridden with.

  “How well can you play a zombie?” said Zac.