The Tesla Legacy

by K. K. Perez

  “It needs a cipher!” Lucy exclaimed, getting the same buzz in her chest as when solving a tricky calculus problem set.

  Her mom touched Lucy’s elbow in a rare show of emotion, a smile spreading across her face.

  “Exactly. Part of the cipher was discovered within a different Medieval Latin text from the thirteenth century. Regrettably, it’s not enough.”

  Liber Librum Aperit. Lucy bit her lips together. Hard. Her mother was literally trying to use one book to open another. It had to be a coincidence.

  Keeping her eyes trained on the folios, Lucy said, “This doesn’t seem like your usual research.”

  “You’re not wrong. I blame too many glasses of wine at the last annual Antiquities Congress.”

  Lucy afforded her mom a disbelieving side-eye. Professor Elaine Phelps would never lose a modicum of composure at an academic conference, and they both knew it.

  “I like a challenge,” her mother admitted. “In Greco-Roman Egypt, chemistry was dominated by women, most of whom created perfumes and cosmetics. I became interested in the role of women in science in the ancient world.”

  She sipped her tea and allowed her attention to wander back to the manuscript. “Once a colleague showed me the Pharmakon, I was enthralled.” There was a gleam in her mom’s eyes that made her seem not girlish, but definitely younger, less worn-out. “A linguistic Rubik’s Cube. I couldn’t resist.”

  For once, Lucy saw the appeal of her mother’s research. She swallowed again, chest growing tight.

  “Why would Kleopatra turn her formula into a riddle?” she wondered aloud. “Scientists normally want their students to be able to replicate their experiments.”

  Her mother regarded Lucy with a sphinxlike expression, listing her head to the side. “Professional rivalry, perhaps,” she suggested after a moment or two. “Also fear of persecution. In Kleopatra’s time, the emperor Diocletian—and many after him—persecuted the alchemists, burning their works. Sometimes burning the alchemists as well, accusing them of witchcraft.”

  Lucy shuddered. She probably would have been tied to a stake right beside Kleopatra.

  Her mom leaned her face close to Lucy’s as she turned the page. “Some scholars believe the cipher is hidden in the manuscript illuminations,” she continued. “Many alchemists hid their formulas in allegorical dreams or visions. Often they took the form of a dreamer wandering around a garden.”

  “Garden?” Lucy choked out, glad her mom couldn’t see her face.

  There was the soft shushing of paper on paper and then Lucy was confronted with an intricately painted jungle garden scene. Jewel-green palm fronds, tangerine blossoms. And in the center, looming over the page, was a supernaturally large orchid plant. The exact same shade of magenta as in her dream.

  “The Flower of Life,” her mother explained. “Six symmetrical petals, like a hexagon. It features in many alchemical texts. They believed it was part of a sacred geometry that revealed the secrets of the universe.”

  Lucy lurched back, afraid to set the book on fire. Her heartbeat stampeded in her ears. How was this possible? How could Lucy have dreamed something from a book she’d never seen? And if Lucy had set the Flower of Life alight—did that mean Lucy brought death?

  “Lucy?” Her mom launched to her feet. “Are you feeling well? You’re white as a sheet.” She reached out to check her daughter’s temperature but Lucy staggered farther back, out of her grasp.

  “I … I think I must have eaten something funny.”

  Her mother took another step, hands on hip. “Lu—”

  “Really, Mom. Stop. I’ll go find some Tums.”

  A resigned huff. “All right, honey. I’ll check on you later.”

  “Thanks.” Guilt pricked Lucy as she rocketed down the stairs.

  She needed space to breathe. To think. Unlike Kleopatra’s pharmakon, however, Lucy was coming to the conclusion that she was a code without a cipher.

  STRANGE FREQUENCIES

  Saturday morning at the Gallery was like rush hour at Grand Central Station.

  Lucy might need a spyglass to spot her friend among the throng of hungover coeds getting their java jolts, gym rats indulging in a post-workout carb fest, and grumpy old men hiding behind copies of the New York Times. Eyes peeled, Lucy picked her way around a slapdash cushion fort constructed by a pair of bored but highly sugared middle school boys. Ugh. This whole week had been one long obstacle course.

  Ravi had asked Lucy several times to give him new calculations for the Voltaic pile and to schedule another trial run, but she’d managed to put him off. Meanwhile, she and Cole had only exchanged furtive glances across hallways and classrooms since she’d seen his Megan slideshow.

  She didn’t know if that meant they were officially broken up or what, but she was also too afraid to ask. Afraid for Cole. Lucy didn’t want to hotwire her boyfriend.

  Much.

  She was more angry than sad when she thought about the ambiguous state of their relationship, and she didn’t know what that meant. Or how she felt about it.

  Plus, she had bigger problems.

  Lucy’s gaze skidded to a halt as she took in the new exhibition lining the walls of the café. Huge black-and-white flowers taken with a macro lens loomed in front of her. Hauntingly beautiful. Especially the ones flecked with crystalline raindrops.

  Message received, universe.

  Hard as she tried, Lucy couldn’t ignore the fact that her mom was decoding an almost two-thousand-year-old manuscript whose illuminations resembled Lucy’s dreams. Which would be strange enough if Lucy hadn’t also become a human Taser.

  Not that she truly believed the universe was taking an interest in her. Tesla would have, though. Lucy had stayed up into the wee hours of the night finishing the Current Wars book. Later in life, Tesla became obsessed with the notion that everyone and everything on the planet had its own unique frequency, like radio waves. If you could tune yourself to the same frequency, he believed you could receive psychic messages.

  It was sad that such a genius had clearly gone senile.

  A Mommy & Me group had laid siege to Lucy’s preferred velvet sofa, forcing her to shimmy her way through a barricade of strollers. She rubbed her temples. Lucy suspected the alchemists would also have believed in Tesla’s strange frequencies.

  She’d done a little Googling on Kleopatra’s manuscript herself and, by falling down the black holes of New Age websites, she’d discovered the Enigma code breakers had taken a stab at it and that Leonardo da Vinci explored the Flower of Life in his work.

  How much of it did Ravi actually believe?

  Lucy patted her pocket, ensuring the Tesla Egg was still there. As long as it didn’t make direct contact with her skin, it seemed harmless, and she’d started carrying it around like a security blanket. Maybe because it was the only tangible proof that, unlike Tesla, Lucy hadn’t lost her grip on reality. Yet.

  She couldn’t be late for Dr. Rosen.

  Elbowing her way to the counter, she deflected death glares from other customers.

  “Claudia?” she asked when she finally caught the eye of a harried barista wearing a paint-speckled baseball cap. His answer was a gruff, “Out back,” glancing at the caffeine-starved horde with true fear. The café was about to be overrun. It wasn’t like Claudia to abandon ship.

  Lucy thanked him and edged away slowly toward the side exit. Yes, she could have simply texted her friend to cover her but, truth be told, Lucy was more nervous about her visit to Dr. Rosen than she wanted to admit. What she wanted was a best-friend hug.

  As the door opened into the parking lot, Lucy saw that Claudia hadn’t abandoned ship. Not quite. Pressed against the Mystery Minivan, fingers tangled in Jess’s vaguely porcupine-esque hair, Claudia had a blissfully content smile on her face.

  Lucy hated to interrupt, but … Cough, cough.

  It took a few moments to penetrate their love bubble.

  Finally focusing, Claudia’s eyes lit behind heavy lids. “Min
nie Mouse! What’s my favorite person doing here?” Then she squeezed Jess’s waist. “Second favorite.” She dropped her voice, pretending it was a secret, and Lucy dismissed a prick of jealousy.

  Jess pivoted to face her, taking Claudia’s hand. Possessive much?

  “Hey,” she said. “I’m Jess.” Today she was dressed in a 1950s-style cocktail frock accessorized with strands of chunky green beads. Claudia sported the Ceci n’est pas une pipe T-shirt that Jess had been wearing the day they met. Oh my. Things were moving fast.

  “Best friend, meet girlfriend,” Claudia said with a giggle. “Girlfriend, best friend.”

  Girlfriend? Already?

  Without thinking, Lucy whipped out the egg and started flipping it over in her hand. “Hey,” she said back, smiling as big as she could. “Lucy. No mouse ears or anything.” She cast a fake glare at her friend.

  “You here for a Frosty or a Rudolph?”

  Jess arched an eyebrow and Claudia explained about Lucy’s Christmas coffee predilections. “Never fear, I’ll make you a Mrs. Claus,” Claudia assured her with a smooch.

  “What’s that?”

  Claudia whispered something in her ear and Jess grinned a mile wide.

  Lucy had been on the outside looking in plenty of times in her life. Just never with Claudia. She clutched the egg tighter.

  “Anyway,” Lucy interjected. “I’m headed to the city. Could you cover with my mom if she calls? I should be back by dinnertime.”

  “No problemo. Whatcha up to?”

  She cut a glance at Jess. No reason to divulge all her secrets in front of a stranger.

  “There’s a new exhibition at the Natural History Museum.”

  “I hope you’ve got a membership card.” Claudia wrinkled her nose, observing Lucy shrewdly enough to make her fidget. “Fine, fine,” her friend said, backing off. “I just hope you’ve had time to work on your lighting designs.”

  Oh. Crap. Lucy had totally blanked.

  “I’m sure I’ll be inspired at the planetarium.”

  “Meeting’s next Thursday.”

  “I hadn’t forgotten,” Lucy lied smoothly.

  “Cutest dictator ever,” Jess said with affection, dashing Claudia a kiss. Claudia gazed back adoringly. Despite herself, Lucy appreciated the save.

  “Hey, you don’t survive with three older brothers by being demure.”

  “You could never be demure, Clauds.”

  “Amen,” Jess agreed, and winked at Lucy.

  “I didn’t introduce you two so you could gang up on me.”

  “Too late,” Lucy said. She relaxed her grip on the egg and tucked it away. “Well, I’m going to miss my train.”

  “Have fun,” Jess told her. This time her smile was genuinely friendly. She pressed a warm hand to Lucy’s shoulder, gracing her with European-style kisses on either cheek, and a wave of guilt swept over Lucy. Her initial claws-out approach had been unwarranted. Jess seemed nice, even if Lucy was intimidated by her stylish, artsy ways.

  “You too.” Lucy would give her the benefit of the doubt. If she hurt Claudia, however, she’d make her pay. The Best Friend Code mandated no less.

  “Oh, we will.”

  The lovebirds exchanged a from-here-to-eternity glance and Lucy’s goodbyes were lost as they disappeared back into their bubble. Maybe Tesla hadn’t been entirely wrong. Those two were definitely on the same wavelength. And the upside to Claudia walking on air was that she wouldn’t be wondering too hard about where in Manhattan Lucy was really going.

  Or why.

  WE’RE ALL MAD HERE

  Rushing to catch the 6 train at Grand Central, Lucy had passed by the Whispering Gallery. Give me an answer, she’d pleaded.

  But Dr. Rosen didn’t have any.

  Lucy should have been glad he’d found nothing out of the ordinary during his examination. She wasn’t. Crossing the avenue from his office, a feeling of helplessness pervaded her as she entered Central Park. At least there was still time to walk to the West Side and catch a show at the planetarium. That way the trip wouldn’t be a total bust, and Lucy wouldn’t be a total liar.

  She strolled past the Metropolitan Museum of Art and her gaze was attracted to the sunlight glittering off the glass wall that encased the Temple of Dendur. One advantage to being homeschooled was that her classroom could be anywhere and everywhere. Lucy had spent many hours in the Greco-Roman and Egyptology wings of the Met with her mom. She remembered that the Temple of Dendur had been built by a Roman governor of Egypt. Had he ruled at the time of Kleopatra?

  There was probably as much chance of deciphering the Pharmakon as figuring out what was wrong with her. Lucy might as well ask a Magic 8-Ball. Although with her track record, the answer would be Try Again Later.

  Dr. Rosen had performed the standard EEG to analyze the electrical signals produced by her brain. Since she was little, Lucy had undergone hundreds of them. They didn’t make her anxious, but today was different. As the electrodes were connected to her scalp, Lucy had dredged up all of her most painfully awkward experiences, part of her hoping to short out the EEG machine.

  Nothing.

  Could her ability to produce electricity be directly related to touch? Skin contact? Or was the machine simply not sensitive enough to note the changes taking place in Lucy’s brain?

  She should have charbroiled her gray matter when she’d shot a thousand volts from her fingertips. The fact that she hadn’t must mean that her brain waves were functioning in an abnormal way. Hypothesis: however the waves were behaving wasn’t detectable by a machine designed for normal human brain patterns. Conclusion: Lucy no longer possessed a human brain?

  She exhaled, feeling wrung out.

  The only unusual thing about her trip as far as Dr. Rosen was concerned was the fact that she’d come alone.

  “Is your mother in the waiting room?” he’d asked, pushing his wire-rimmed spectacles up the bridge of his nose.

  “No. I came on my own.” Pause. “Dr. Rosen, since I’m eighteen now, doesn’t that mean you don’t have to share my medical reports with my parents?”

  He’d slanted forward, resting his elbows on his leather armchair.

  “That’s right. Although if you’re still on their insurance, they’ll see you’ve been for a visit. And which tests were ordered.”

  Lucy nodded. She’d deal with that later. For now, her dad was MIA and her mom was neck deep in hieroglyphs.

  The doctor had dismissed her with a grandfatherly smile, instructing Lucy to up her medication by half a tablet, and said he’d see her in six months.

  Which left her feeling more lost than ever. Lucy trudged downtown toward the Alice in Wonderland statue that overlooked the sailboat pond. If only there were a magic potion she could take to turn back the clock so that she’d never entered Tesla’s lab.

  Lucy circled the pond slowly, watching the ripples left by the toy ships. If she jumped into the water and swam across, she’d leave a similar pattern in her wake. The formula that explained the waves was constant. Physics was supposed to be constant. Her constant.

  And yet, here she was, defying all of its laws.

  Her eyes shifted back toward the gleaming bronze Alice surrounded by her posse: the Mad Hatter, the White Rabbit, the Cheshire Cat. A single tear welled at the corner of her eye and she was powerless to stop it.

  “Lucy?”

  She pivoted toward the voice. “Ravi?”

  Frak my life. Discreetly, she dabbed away the tear.

  “We’ve got to stop meeting like this.” He laughed, closing the short distance between them and, for a moment, all Lucy could concentrate on was his smile. A ray of light fell across his lips. Solar flares burst on Lucy’s cheeks as he came to a stop beside her.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, her question almost an accusation.

  “I like the boats.”

  Lucy focused intently on a boat with a yellow sail bobbing up and down, but her body was acutely aware of his proximity.


  “My boarding school was by the sea,” said Ravi. “Sometimes I miss the crash of the surf.” His voice was steady. And yet something about his lilt made his words intimate, almost a confession. The ten million other people in New York City ceased to exist.

  “I like the ripples,” she told him. “There’s something calming about them.”

  Ravi tilted his head and the way he looked at her reminded Lucy of a scientist with a puzzle to solve.

  “Something on your mind?” he asked.

  Her heart stuttered. Maybe it was the lack of answers provided by Dr. Rosen, or the fact that her life already seemed to be spinning out of control but Lucy found herself unable—or unwilling—to deflect the question.

  “I came into Manhattan to see my neurologist,” she began. “I have epilepsy. It’s why I didn’t enter any science fairs. Stress can be a trigger. It’s also why my parents homeschooled me,” she continued in a rush. “The doctors have never been able to give me a complete diagnosis. I don’t fit the mold of any standard syndromes. I guess I broke it.” Lucy snorted. “I’m too breakable.”

  The admission left her breathless.

  What seemed like an eternity of silence followed. Then Ravi put a hand on Lucy’s shoulder, and the most extraordinary feeling of melting consumed her.

  “I think you’re a lot of things, Lucinda. Breakable isn’t one of them.”

  She peered up at him. Lucinda. Ravi made her sound like someone else. A fierce, strong woman.

  “Did you get bad news today?” he asked. “From the doctor?”