by Harrison, S.
Ryan leans forward, gripping the edge of the table, his narrow-eyed glare fixed on Brent.
Brent smiles at him, meeting the challenge, then turns back to me and winks.
I honestly almost throw up in my mouth.
“What’s going on down there?” Professor Francis calls from the other end of the table. “Pay attention, please, and Margaux, surrender your phone or spend the rest of the day on the bus with no one to complain to but the driving computer.”
She rolls her eyes, plonks her hot-pink, genuine-diamond-encrusted Jett 10 on the table, and mouths, “Whatever.”
“Thank you, everyone,” says Percy. He touches a button on the edge of the table, and all the phones and computer slates slowly submerge into the surface and disappear from sight like they’ve sunk into a vat of glossy-white paint. The morphing ability of everything here is becoming less and less shocking, but it’s still very cool to watch.
“They will all be safe and sound and waiting for you at the end of the day. Next, if you would all be so kind as to sign a confidentiality agreement.” Percy presses the edge of the table again and digital pages of text blink into view on the surface: one for everyone. “This is merely a formality that we must insist on before the tour continues. It’s simply to ensure that if you tell anyone about what you’ve seen here, we have the permission to hunt you down and brutally murder you and your entire family.” Some of the group looks up at Percy in shocked concern, and he chuckles. “I’m kidding, of course. But on a serious note, you can and will be prosecuted if you divulge any private Blackstone information to anyone, so, from this moment on, everything you see and hear will all be tippity-top secret. Just press your thumb anywhere on the document and consider yourselves part of a very select few.”
“Do as Mr. Blake asks, please, everyone, and we can get this show on the road,” Professor Francis says, his voice tinged with excitement.
One by one, thumbs on both sides of the table press the pages, and one by one, with happy little tones of thanks, the pages turn bright green and vanish.
“Thank you, everyone! Now, let me officially begin the tour: Welcome to the wondrous Blackstone Technologies Research and Development complex.”
A short burst of trumpet fanfare comes out of nowhere, the surface of the table ripples, and suddenly, a glossy-white scale model of Blackstone Technologies’ grounds and buildings morphs up right before our eyes, taking up the entire length of the table from end to end.
There’s a round of “whoas” and “wows” and a “Hells yeah!” from Dean McCarthy, who stands up immediately, excitedly taking in the whole extensive diorama. Most of the others, including me and Bit, do exactly the same thing. There’s the road that leads to the car park outside, the arch that we walked under, and the dome that we’re in right now. There are two more domes in a line behind this one, each a little smaller than the last, and all are connected by a twisting network of paths and tree-lined walkways. Suspended monorails weave in and out of architecturally beautiful geometric buildings and warehouses that are elegantly, almost artistically positioned between and around the three domes. The model is so detailed, it’s incredible. Landscaped gardens complete with flowers and individual blades of grass are modeled into it. I even spot a little pond surrounded by stone-bench seating, the water’s surface rippling from feeding fish as overhanging trees, perfectly sculpted right down to the leaf, gently sway as if they’re being rustled by a breeze. Everything is there, precisely rendered in miniature glossy white. Even our school bus has been included. Seeing it all like this makes it glaringly clear how absolutely huge this dome is. It’s so big that it easily obscures the other buildings from the car park. The whole complex must extend for at least ten or twelve miles.
“Everyone, sit down, please,” says Professor Francis. Percy gives him a smile and a nod of thanks before he continues.
“Blackstone Technologies, or ‘Blackstone Tech,’ as we call it around here, is the world leader in cutting-edge, advanced scientific research and development. That’s right, people; this is where we invent it all. You should consider yourselves extremely privileged to be here today. You are only the fourth group to have been granted a tour and the first group of school students ever. I must admit that I was quite surprised to see a high-school tour on my schedule at first, but I don’t doubt for a second that your very influential parents had something to do with that!”
Percy waves his hand dramatically over the model. “Everything you will see today was developed by our scientists and engineers under the guidance of our founder and CEO, the esteemed Dr. Richard Blackstone. I’m sure you all know who he is!”
I know who he is, alright. But then again, I’m his daughter and even I don’t really know who he is at all. It seems everything about him is a secret, and thanks to Jonah that also includes me. I try to shake off the unpleasant thought and focus back on Percy.
“Is Dr. Blackstone here today?” asks Sherrie Polito.
“Well, I’m not at liberty to answer that question,” replies Percy. “But, I do have another little surprise for you.”
Percy leans over, touches the table, and all of a sudden that writhing, hissing sound can be heard whispering beneath the rising volume of the valiant opening notes of a stirring piece of classical music. Everyone turns to look as a white amorphous blob begins forming up from the floor beside a goofily smiling Percy. Higher and higher it rises until, after only a few seconds, it has smoothed into a shiny column at least twelve feet tall. Suddenly, as if air is being vacuumed out from inside the shape, it begins tightening into the figure of a giant man, growing taller still as the rousing music gets even louder. The surface of the shape compresses further, and soon the sharp details of a crisp white suit, lustrous, black collared shirt, and bold red tie have adorned the growing effigy. Flesh tones and details flush into the statue’s hands and face as eyes and eyebrows, lips, a moustache, and neatly trimmed and combed jet-black hair morph onto the towering, now fifteen-foot-tall, hyper-realistic-looking, unbelievably egotistical monument of none other than Dr. Blackstone himself.
The huge statue moves, placing its hands on its hips, and, as the music reaches its triumphant climax, it tilts its giant head to stare heroically toward a distant imaginary horizon.
I subtly look around the table. Everyone except me and Bit seems to be awestruck, all of them wide-eyed and smiling up at the ridiculous thing. Even though no one but Bit knows that I’m his daughter, I can’t help but feel incredibly embarrassed. I hope with all my heart that this wasn’t my father’s idea.
Percy looks absolutely chuffed. “Ladies and gentlemen. Scientist. Inventor. Visionary. Philanthropist. Genius. Dr. Richard Blackstone.” Amy Dee and Sherrie Polito actually start applauding. With obvious enthusiasm, Percy presses the edge of the table again and the music resumes, a softer piece this time, full of gentle reverence. The statue’s arms dramatically sweep open, looking out over us as if it were addressing a thronging audience of fervent admirers as it begins to speak.
“Everything in our wonderful reality is connected. If you could look closely enough, down to the smallest parts, you would discover that you’re made of the same things that your toaster or an elephant or a neutron star or a bacterium or a lobster or a cheesecake or a dandelion is made of. Like infinitesimally tiny ballerinas, these unimaginably small parts make everything that exists by dancing to the infinite myriad of symphonies played by our wondrous universe. Just take a moment, and imagine the endless miracles we can achieve when humankind is finally able to wave the very baton of creation and conduct the music of the cosmic orchestra of reality itself.”
The music ends and Amy and Sherrie start clapping again; this time they’re joined by Jennifer, Karla, Miss Cole, and Professor Francis, all of whom are smiling and nodding and fawning up at the statue of my father which, to my relief, is very slowly reverting to a blob and sinking back down into the floor.
; Percy holds his hand over his heart and sighs. “That gets me every time. Anyway, where were we? Oh yes . . . we are currently inside Dome One, the main dome.” With another press of the table, little glowing holographic labels blink on all over the three-dimensional map, hovering and slowly rotating above every structure in front of us. I notice Bit suddenly take a new and special interest in the map. I can see her scanning the tabletop, mentally noting the labels and their corresponding buildings as her finger, poised by her glasses, makes little pecks at the air, pointing from one tiny floating signpost to the next.
“This is where most of the computer-controlled constructs are created,” says Percy. “Things such as the jungle and the sports stadium and the tyrannosaurus you saw earlier. And, of course, slightly less exciting things like this table and these chairs.”
Jennifer’s hand shoots up.
“A question?” asks Percy.
“What are the constructs made of?” Jennifer asks, scratching at the edge of the table with her fingernail.
“That’s a very good question. Does anyone hazard a guess?” Percy asks, scanning the group.
“Holograms,” blurts Brody.
“That’s a good guess,” says Percy. “But incorrect. As I’m sure you know, holograms are merely projections of light. Constructs have weight and physical mass. Anyone else?”
“Some kind of force field?” asks Ashley Farver.
“That’s a good guess, too, but not quite right I’m afraid.”
“What do you think, Finn?” Ryan whispers to me.
“I dunno,” I whisper with a shrug. “Maybe . . . nano grains?”
“Who said that? Was that you, Miss Brogan?” asks Percy. Everyone turns to look at me. “Did you say . . . nano grains?”
I nod sheepishly.
“That is a very good guess indeed! How do you know about nano grains?”
“Ah, I must have read it somewhere? On a science site or something, I think.” For someone who couldn’t lie her way out of a paper bag, I seem to do it quite often.
Percy raises his eyebrows and nods. “Like I said, very good guess. Unfortunately, still incorrect.”
Margaux smiles and snorts in my direction, obviously delighted that I got it wrong.
“They are actually formed from a meta-material that is made up of incredibly tiny separate pieces called quantum grains. Miss Brogan was almost right. Nano grains were the predecessors of quantum grains. We’ve improved them quite a lot since then. Basically, quantum grains are like itsy-bitsy building blocks. When they’re combined with billions of shifting magnetic microfields and the correct program, the computer can construct realistic simulations of almost anything. The potential applications of this technology, once perfected, are endless.”
“Mr. Blake? Was that silver woman in the jungle made of quantum grains, too?” asks Jennifer.
“Please, call me Percy. Silver woman? Oh, you must have seen a DT, a Drone Template. No, they are worker robots. Similar to the ones you might have at home tending your garden, only much, much more advanced.”
“Why isn’t everything in the world made of quanty grains?” Brody asks loudly, his hand in the air like a flagpole. “I would totally make thirty awesome cars for myself and a smoking-hot girlfriend.”
A few people chuckle at Brody’s comment, and Brent high-fives him.
“That would be nice,” says Percy, his perfect white teeth fixed in a grin. “Unfortunately, for the meantime, the constructs can only be created within the circular boundaries of the three domes we have, and a few small restricted research, construction, and medical areas dotted throughout the rest of the complex. The constructs require massive computer-processing power, you see, and the only computer in the whole world that is powerful enough to handle the task is right here at Blackstone Technologies. Computer, say hello to our guests.”
Suddenly a calm, deep, very familiar voice emanates down from overhead.
“Hello and welcome to Blackstone Technologies.”
Everyone looks around in surprise, but I instantly smile upward into the darkness. It’s Onix! I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me before! It makes perfect sense that Onix is here. He is a Blackstone computer system, after all. I suddenly feel protected and safe knowing that someone I trust is up above watching over me. I better not say hello to him right now, though. That might create more questions than I’m willing to answer.
“Computer, smoking-hot girlfriend, please. Brunette with long legs, wearing a bikini!” Brody shouts up into the darkness.
“Make mine a redhead,” Brent says, prompting an icy glare from Margaux and muted laughs from around the table.
“Sorry, boys,” Percy chides. “The computer and the DTs only take orders if you’re wearing one of these.” He pulls back his sleeve to reveal a thick silver band with a Blackstone diamond logo on it fastened around his wrist.
“It’s called a command module. It relays my voice to the computer and the Drones, and also doubles as quite a stylish watch.” Percy touches the band and little green glowing numbers project from the black diamond, hovering just above it. “Mercy, look at the time! Any other questions will have to wait until later, I’m afraid. Please stand back from the table everyone.”
We all get up, and with another push of a button there’s a quiet hissing sound as the 3-D model of Blackstone Technologies instantly melts flat as the table, and all fifteen chairs slowly dissolve back down into the dark gray floor. Margaux stares longingly at the tiles, no doubt wondering where in the world her precious phone might be by now.
“Now, if you will all follow me out of Dome One, we’ll make our way through to the laboratory sector,” says Percy.
“Can we have one more construct before we go, please?” Millie interrupts.
“Yeah, can we?” chirps Amy Dee.
Percy checks his wrist again.
“Yeah, one more, one more, one more,” chants Brody, pumping his fist in the air.
“Well . . . alright,” Percy says with a grin and a wink. “I think we might have just enough time for one more. Any suggestions?”
Almost everyone shoots their hands into the air.
“Miss Cole?” Percy says smiling, revealing his perfectly straight rows of pearly-white teeth. “How about you?”
“Me?” she says, completely surprised. She hadn’t even raised her hand. “Oh no, not me. I wouldn’t know where to start.” Margaux and Millie stare wide-eyed in obvious disbelief that Miss Cole would pass up an opportunity as cool as this.
“There must be something you’ve always imagined doing?” asks Percy.
“Well, I have always liked . . . pirates,” Miss Cole says shyly.
“Well, what a coincidence. So have I!” exclaims Percy. “I have just the thing for you. Everyone come forward, that’s right, bunch together, please. That’s good, now stay exactly where you are.” There’s an undeniable look of excitement on Percy’s face, his big blue eyes are sparkling, and his game-show-host smile is even wider and whiter than before.
“I think you’re all going to like this.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Percy stands straight and proud as if he’s about to announce an important decree from the peak of a mountain. “Computer, initiate Seven Seas construct Blake fourteen.”
There’s a tone of acknowledgment, and all the lights in the clearing immediately extinguish, plunging us into total darkness.
Miss Cole squeals. I feel Bit fumble in the dark in my direction until she finds the sleeve of my blazer. She grabs on to me and pulls me closer. I don’t really like being touched, but I know how easily frightened Bit can get sometimes, so I decide to let it slide.
“Everyone stay exactly where you are,” Percy reminds us again from somewhere in the darkness. Bit and I stay rooted to the spot. There’s that hissing sound again. It’s much louder this time, though. I know
that it’s the sound of something being quantum constructed, but it’s so dark I can’t even see my hand in front of my face, let alone whatever it is that Onix is forming around us.
Suddenly there’s a deep rolling, rippling echo in the distance. It’s unmistakable. It’s the magnificent rumble of powerful storm clouds churning chaos overhead, undulating and ominous. I hear the thunder swelling and boiling in the pitch-black sky and a shiver of excitement runs down my spine. It must be some kind of clever acoustic trick, because it sounds like it’s coming from so far away. I stare in its direction, waiting for a flash. Just when I think one will come, the rippling echoes wane and lull before slowly gathering and building again, brewing high and heavy in the vast expanse of darkness above us. The hissing hasn’t stopped. In fact, it’s getting louder. And louder. It’s not even a hiss anymore. It sounds more like water. Tons of water. I breathe deeply through my nose and marvel at the unmistakable briny scent of the ocean. That’s the moment when the ground moves under our feet.
“Whoa!” Bit shouts from beside me. There’s another screech from behind; I can’t tell who it’s from.
The floor moves up. Then drops. Then up again. It’s not enough to tip me and Bit over, but it feels extremely strange. A strong wind gusts out of nowhere and whips around us; sea spray speckles cold against my cheek. Bit grips me tighter and my heart beats faster. I’m looking all around now, searching for any source of light when suddenly, with an almighty thunderclap, a thick twisting bolt of lightning sears through the darkness, instantly illuminating everyone and everything around us with a bright-white flash. I quickly take in our surroundings and find, to my astonishment, that we are all standing on the uppermost deck of a swaying sailing ship in the middle of a deep dark sea. All around us is expansive ocean. For as far as I can see, there’s black water rolling and crashing, breaking and foaming with high, white-crested peaks against the side of the ship as it cuts through the water.