The World's Greatest Adventure Machine

by Frank L. Cole

  “Seat belt, now!” his mom ordered.

  “All right, all right.” Trevor plopped down in the seat and clicked his belt into place. “Why do I have to wear a seat belt in a car that has a couch and a refrigerator? That makes no sense.”

  “There will most likely be some hidden clauses in this thing that will break the whole contract. There always is. People just don’t hand out an all-expenses-paid trip to California”—his mom hesitated, her eyes flitting to the back of the driver’s head, before she lowered her voice—“and two hundred thousand dollars, without some sort of catch!”

  “It’s a contest, remember? It’s like winning the lottery. These guys probably hand out money like that all the time,” Trevor said. “They’re super rich.”

  “And irresponsible!” Trevor’s mom had been catching up on the hundreds of YouTube videos of Doug Castleton performing all sorts of dangerous stunts.

  The limousine slowed, and the privacy window separating the front of the vehicle from the back opened a crack. “We’ve arrived.” The driver pointed through the windshield at the building on the side of a sloping hill. Palm trees stood guard along the driveway, like dreadlocked soldiers.

  “What the—” Trevor pushed his way through the privacy window to get a better look, surprising the driver, who nearly steered the limo off the road.

  Trevor’s mom tugged on the back of his shirt. “Sit down!”

  The Adventure Machine facility wasn’t anything like what Trevor had expected. Instead of looking like a theme park, with ticket booths leading into an open area where twisting metal roller coaster tracks spiraled in the background, there was a single massive building with multiple levels resting on the lawn. It looked like the sort of manor one would see on a Southern estate, complete with gaudy, cream-colored columns. Expansive windows glittered as spotlights lit up the building’s facade. But what caught Trevor’s eye was an enormous silver dome that loomed behind the building. Made of some kind of reflective material, the dome looked like a metal mountain. Trevor squinted, trying to see all the way to the top.

  “What is that thing?” Trevor asked the driver.

  “I just drive the car, buddy. Do you want to get back in your seat so I can pull up?”

  Trevor sank into the cushion, the leather squeaking beneath him. “Mom, it’s bigger than a stadium. No, two stadiums. Maybe even—”

  “I can see it, honey,” she said, stealing glances at the dome between rereading lines of text in the contract. “And, oh my word, what’s with all the cameras?”

  At least a dozen sharply dressed men and women stood behind velvety stanchions on the curb, pointing their video equipment at the approaching limousine. As soon as the limo pulled to a stop in front of the entryway, the passenger door was flung open, and Doug Castleton greeted them. Dressed in a Hawaiian shirt, khaki shorts, and flip-flops, Doug looked more like a beach bum ready to catch some waves than the owner and operator of an expensive theme park.

  “So, what do you think?” Doug held out his hands to showcase the property. “Spectacular?”

  “It’s huge!” Trevor exclaimed. “How big is that thing?”

  A barrage of flashes exploded from the rows of cameras. For just a moment, Trevor thought this must be what it felt like to arrive at a fancy movie premiere. Only there was no red carpet, there were no movie stars Trevor could see, and he was pretty sure he had sat in some gum on the airplane.

  Doug put on a serious expression and lowered his voice. “Here, allow me to recite my lines,” he said, before raising his voice. “ ‘The Globe is four and a half million square feet and covers one hundred acres of land. It is the largest enclosed stadium-like structure in the world. It’s five hundred and thirteen feet tall, and measures one thousand two hundred and twenty feet from end to end.’ ” He gave an exaggerated exhale, then offered his hand to assist Ms. Isaacs out of the limo. “Okay, let’s take a couple of quick pics with the local media, and then I’ll have Felix take your luggage to your room.”

  Trevor climbed out, glancing over his shoulder. “Who’s Felix?”

  The driver promptly saluted and then heaved the large suitcase out from the trunk.

  Doug smiled at the wall of cameras, and Trevor shielded his eyes as another bombardment of flashes lit up the darkening evening sky. Several reporters vied for Trevor’s attention, shouting questions and vigorously waving him over for an interview.

  “Sorry, folks,” Doug said. “Just pictures for now. We’ll have plenty of time for some one-on-one discussions tomorrow, after the launch.”

  “Tomorrow?” Ms. Isaacs asked. “Who said anything about television interviews?”

  “It’s all outlined in your contract, Patricia,” Doug said.

  Trevor’s mom snatched the contract from her purse and growled. “Oh really? And what page might that be on? Four hundred and seventy?”

  —

  Beyond the doors, Trevor expected to see a spiral staircase or a foyer with lounging couches and a grand piano, the customary furniture one would find in an uppity mansion. Instead, the building opened up into high, vaulted ceilings made almost entirely of glass, allowing full visibility of the mountainous Globe looming outside. Three Jumbotron-like movie screens hovered in the air, displaying a barrage of information with colorful images and booming audio.

  As the sliding doors sealed shut behind Trevor, blocking out the cameras and the desperate voices of the news reporters, Doug gestured to the center of the atrium, where three children and their guardians stood waiting.

  “Patricia and Trevor Isaacs, allow me to introduce you to Devin Drobbs and his father, Dan.” Doug motioned to a dark-skinned boy standing with his arms folded. He had brown eyes and wore a red T-shirt and white basketball shorts. Devin held Trevor’s gaze for a moment, before flicking his chin in acknowledgment. The boy’s dad was an overly smiley fellow with a dark gray goatee. He brandished his phone in front of him and whispered something into his son’s ear. Devin turned and flashed a confident grin, and Trevor realized that Mr. Drobbs was using his phone as a video camera.

  “I thought we agreed we wouldn’t be filming during this exchange,” Doug said, pointing at Mr. Drobbs’s device.

  “Does the contract say not to?” Mr. Drobbs asked.

  “Actually, it may—”

  “Either it does or it doesn’t, sir. And until a statement is noted in the fine print, I must insist on keeping my camera rolling.” Mr. Drobbs took a step closer, zooming his camera in so he could capture Trevor’s expression. “Little Rainy Riddle has one hundred thousand subscribers, eh, Devin?” He chuckled. “Well, we’ll see who has more after this weekend.”

  “Moving on,” Doug said, nodding to the next participant. “Nika Pushkin and her grandfather Mikel. They traveled all the way from Russia to join in the fun.”

  Though tall and skinny, Nika looked just around Trevor’s age. She had straight brown hair, olive-colored skin, and wore a white long-sleeved shirt and blue jeans. The girl carried a paper cup from which she scooped ice cream with a spoon. Trevor thought she was kind of pretty, despite the fact that she appeared to be glowering at him. Beside her, a white-haired gentleman stood stoically, wearing a red sports coat.

  “From Russia, huh?” Trevor asked.

  “Yes,” Nika answered. “We come from Chelyabinsk.” Trevor could pick up only a slight hint of a Russian accent when she spoke.

  “That must have been a long flight,” he said. “We only had to fly in from Illinois.”

  Nika’s grandfather sniffed and tugged on his sports coat lapels. “Fifteen-hour flight. Is not bad.” Mr. Pushkin’s accent came out thick and gruff, and he seemed incapable of smiling.

  “Yeah, maybe not for you,” Nika mumbled.

  “What did they serve you to eat?” Trevor asked. Fifteen hours most likely required several meals.

  Nika stared at Trevor warily, before glancing at the others in the foyer. “Milk shakes,” she said, shaking her paper cup.

  Doug nod
ded. “Right. And lastly, here are—”

  “My name’s Cameron,” the third participant offered. He was a boy with thick red glasses that magnified his unblinking eyes, and stark blond hair parted down the middle. “Cameron Kiffing. It sounds like kissing, which I’ve never done, only instead there are Fs, which I’ve never earned. Presently, I’m the world’s smartest eleven-year-old. My IQ is ten points above genius level. This is my mom. Her name’s Beatrice. You can call her Ms. Kiffing, if you prefer.” He nodded at the woman at his side. Ms. Kiffing was much shorter than the other adults, and she possessed a bewildered, almost lost expression, as though she had no recollection of how she had arrived at the Adventure Machine facility.

  “World’s smartest eleven-year-old?” Trevor asked. “I don’t even know what my IQ is, but I’m not afraid of kissing girls or getting Fs.” Not that he had done either, but at least he could safely say he wasn’t afraid. Trevor’s mom swatted his arm.

  Devin snickered and whispered something under his breath to his dad. Nika glanced up from her milk shake and looked at Trevor, the faintest hint of a smile forming on her lips.

  Cameron cocked his head to the side to study Trevor as well. “Strictly by my unprofessional opinion, I would have to say you have an IQ of 110, 115 tops.”

  “Is that good?” Trevor asked.

  Cameron shrugged halfheartedly. “Meh.”

  “This is it. This is our crew,” Doug said. “And we are on the eve of your grand adventure. Now, if you will turn your attention up—” Doug gestured to the ceiling above them and the lights in the atrium dimmed. The informational displays on the Jumbotrons disappeared. Lasers shot out from the center of each of the three screens, converging into one massive beam that reached all the way to the floor. The beam appeared distorted at first, but then it grew solid, forming a door. Trevor applauded and glanced at the other winners. They all seemed equally mesmerized by the awesome display.

  Suddenly, the three-dimensional image of a man appeared, emerging from the cylindrical door. If Trevor hadn’t known better, he would’ve believed the man to be actually standing there in front of them; it was that flawless. The only proof otherwise was a few granulated pixels.

  “Hello, lucky winners,” the holographic man said. “My name is Terry Castleton.” He had thinning gray hair and a few wrinkles weaving out from the corners of his mouth, but there was no mistaking the striking similarities to Doug. They both had the same eyes and the same confident smile. “I’m head of research and development at the Adventure Machine facility, and I’m here today to show you our most prized creation.” More lasers, a fraction of the size of the center beam, zigzagged down from the Jumbotrons, dancing across the ground. Like magic erasers, the lasers replaced a circular section of marble floor with bubbling lava. Trevor heard someone gasp. Devin and his dad took a cautious step back from the display. It wasn’t real, of course. Just an impressive show, but Trevor thought he could feel actual heat emanating from the virtual lava.

  “My brother, Terry, would’ve been here himself,” Doug whispered to the group as the lasers continued transforming the ground into a volcanic landscape. “But unfortunately, he had a few meetings to attend. He’ll be here tomorrow for the launch.”

  The lasers finished their work, leaving only a tiny rock beneath Terry’s feet.

  “You are about to embark on the adventure of a lifetime,” Terry said, then he vanished and was replaced by a long, silver vehicle. It looked like a standard roller coaster cart with an aerodynamic cone, four cushioned seats, and thick safety harnesses that pulled down over riders’ shoulders. Trevor had seen similar ones before and had even ridden in a few prior to being permanently banned from every amusement park in Illinois. Apparently, people didn’t like it when you got out of your seat during the ride. Who knew?

  “We call it the Adventure Machine.” Terry’s disembodied voice spoke as the image of the roller coaster rotated, giving the group the ability to view the contraption at all angles. The cart then began moving forward along a track. “Using state-of-the-art technology, the Adventure Machine taps into the riders’ minds to create a thrilling experience.”

  The background blurred as the vehicle reached incredible speeds. It plummeted down steep slopes, careered through loops, bucked, pitched, and barrel-rolled, before screeching to a stop.

  “Imagine a ride that will allow you to experience this.” A series of intense scenes flashed across the screen. The cart surged through a fire-filled landscape. There was a blinding blizzard, followed by an avalanche and a tidal wave; then the images flipped through countless other scenarios, before ending with a final scene of the cart vanishing into a pitch-black tunnel.

  The column of light vanished along with the Adventure Machine and Terry Castleton. The Jumbotrons once again displayed their previous images.

  “What do you think?” Doug asked, once the transmission had ended.

  “I don’t understand how you can do this,” Devin’s dad said. “A roller coaster track has to be sturdy and rigid. How can you manipulate the landscape so freely?”

  “And what exactly should our children expect to encounter on this ride?” Cameron’s mom asked. She stood, arms folded, scowling at the Jumbotrons as though she could still see the remnants of the Adventure Machine transmission. “Was that actual lava?”

  Doug rubbed his hands together. “We use a new technology that allows the riders to have an entirely out-of-body experience.”

  Trevor frowned. “So it’s not real, then?”

  “Oh, it’s real,” Doug said. “That’s the beauty of it. You think you’re in for an ordinary ride and then the Adventure Machine jumps up and smacks you right in the mouth.”

  Trevor’s mom anxiously tapped her toe. “Okay, I just have to ask: Why do we need a contract for this?”

  “Yeah,” Devin’s dad said. “What are we agreeing to?”

  “You’re agreeing to allow your child to ride the Adventure Machine, of course,” Doug answered matter-of-factly.

  “You’re going to make every person who wants to ride your roller coaster sign a contract?” Ms. Kiffing asked.

  “Oh no, not at all. Once the Adventure Machine goes public, anyone who buys a ticket will have all access to the ride. The contract is just for you.”

  Trevor’s mom narrowed her eyes. “So that we don’t sue you when my son loses his arm during an accident, am I right?”

  Doug smiled sheepishly and stared at the ceiling. “That’s a bit extreme, but I guess the contract does cover some liabilities.”

  “Contracts? Liabilities? Lava? We need some answers now. Don’t you think?” Trevor’s mom demanded. The other parents grumbled their consent.

  Doug pressed his hands together, steepling his fingers beneath his chin. “And you’ll have them. If you’ll follow me, we’ll now head to our legal offices to discuss all this. Every question will be answered. I assure you.”

  “Great!” Trevor said sarcastically. “Legal offices sound like a really fun time.” He glanced around at the others. Devin pretended to yawn. “Do we all get to go?” Trevor asked.

  “Hey, I have a great idea,” Doug said. “Since us adults have to wander off and attend to boring contract business, there’s no reason for the kids to tag along. Should we allow our lucky winners the chance to stretch their legs and explore?” He flourished his hand toward the far side of the atrium.

  Flickering lights embedded in the floor illuminated a path weaving toward a massive mouth. Trevor smirked at the sight of the jagged teeth and fat red lips surrounding the entrance. Even the carpet had been designed to look like a tongue. The words The Gallery glowed in neon above it.

  “The Gallery is a discovery zone,” Doug explained. “A way for you, the ticket holder, to get a feel for what you’re about to experience. The main attraction in the Gallery, of course, is our Terrorarium.”

  “So is it like a museum?” Trevor asked, glancing uneasily over at his mom. The bill for Trevor’s unplanned crash landing
had arrived from the East Chester Museum just the day before, forcing Trevor to relive the incident all over again.

  “Sort of,” Doug said. “You’ll find things on display there that can’t be explained. There are games and booths and interactive adventures that perhaps will give a face to your nightmares. Think of it as a freak show.”

  “And they have a food court too,” Cameron added.

  Doug grinned. “That’s right, Cameron. Did you wander off by yourself earlier?”

  Cameron’s eyes widened slightly. “Of course not, but I did do a little exploring of your facilities online prior to our arrival this afternoon.”

  Trevor’s eyes lit up as his stomach gurgled. “Food court? In there?” He jabbed his index finger emphatically at the mouth.

  “Most of it is nonfunctioning at the moment, but I’ve asked a few of the tenants to be on-site for this special weekend,” Doug said. “I think we have Samurai Sal’s Sushi, Bortho’s Burgers, and some vegan restaurant, but I always forget its name. When all’s said and done, we’ll have twenty different restaurants and three gift shops.”

  “What about the Adventure Machine?” Trevor asked. “When are we going to see that?”

  “Yeah, isn’t that the whole point of the contest?” Devin added. “Let’s take a look at that bad boy.”

  “Patience, my friends. All in due time. We’ll get you there in the morning,” Doug said. “What do you say, Moms, Dad, Grandpa? Should we allow the kiddos to take their leave?”

  Devin glanced at his dad, who nodded in agreement. “That sounds cool. You said there are games?”

  Doug nodded. “Pretty sure most of them you’ve never heard of.”

  “Are you really good at video games?” Nika asked Devin.

  Devin waggled his eyebrows. “If you want, you can follow me and I’ll show you how good I am.”

  Mikel Pushkin gently placed his hands on his granddaughter’s shoulders. “Nika will not be joining you this evening.”

  Nika closed her eyes in disappointment. “But, Dedushka, couldn’t I—”

  “Absolutely not,” Mikel said, never looking down at her. “Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Castleton, but I’ve already signed the contract and I trust you will honor our arrangement by keeping my granddaughter completely safe. We will take our dinner in our room. Good night.” He guided Nika away from the group, and they headed off toward the elevators.