by Morgan Rice
He stalked away hurriedly.
With an uneasy feeling about handing his invention over to Lucas, Oliver went to the kitchen to fetch the broom. He headed out to the factory floor dragging it behind him, the sensation of disquiet growing inside of him.
He reached the workbench and started to sweep. But that feeling in the back of his mind that something was amiss kept growing.
Suddenly, it occurred to him what the issue was. Lucas. He didn’t trust him to hand the invisibility coat over to Armando at all. He’d always seemed out to get Oliver. Then it dawned on Oliver. What if Lucas was going to claim credit for his invention?
Oliver dropped the broom. It clattered to the floor as he ran, full pelt, across the factory, heading for Armando’s office. But of course the winding, mazelike corridors were too incomprehensible for him to navigate. He got lost, running around in circles, growing more and more confused.
Then he heard voices—Armando’s and Lucas’s. He followed the direction they were coming from. They became louder and louder as he reached a door that stood ajar.
Oliver was about to push the door open when he heard what Lucas was saying.
“I cracked it this morning. Stayed up all night. Can you believe it? After all those people trying, I’m the one to solve invisibility!”
Oliver gasped, horrified. Lucas was taking credit for his invention!
Through the door he caught a glimpse of Lucas with the small piece of invisible cloth in his hand.
“I am very impressed,” came Armando’s voice.
Oliver couldn’t believe what he was seeing and hearing. Lucas had backstabbed him! He was taking credit for Oliver’s hard work and Armando was falling for it!
He was just about to barge into the room when Lucas sharply turned. Through the small crack, Oliver knew he’d been caught. Lucas’s grin was sinister, and it grew even darker when he realized that Oliver had just witnessed him taking the credit for all his hard work.
With a final haughty glare, Lucas reached over and slammed the door in Oliver’s face, blocking him out and away from Armando before the inventor could even see he was there.
Staring at the wood just an inch from his nose, Oliver floundered, stunned, feeling like the rug had been suddenly ripped from beneath his feet.
CHAPTER NINE
Oliver stood with his nose to the door for a moment, too shocked by Lucas’s betrayal to even move. But just as he regained his senses, there came a noise from the other side of the factory.
Oliver startled and turned. There were men inside the factory! Men in suits. He gasped. Surely they weren’t supposed to be there. A horrible thought crossed his mind: were they looking for him?
He ducked, not wanting to be seen, and peered through the balustrade at the men as they walked with purpose about the place. One was holding a clipboard, another a briefcase. Oliver managed to hear a snippet of their conversation.
“So you can see,” a man with a pot belly and white hair was saying, “there’s great potential here for redevelopment. We have planning permission to add another floor, and there’s plumbing and electricity throughout the entire property.”
Oliver realized then what was happening. One of these men was the landlord, and he was showing prospective buyers around the factory! Was he trying to sell it from under Armando’s nose? Or did Armando know? Perhaps they were in financial difficulties.
Oliver’s stomach clenched painfully. He’d only just decided the factory was where he belonged and now it might be taken away too. The thought of the factory disappearing just when he’d found it was too much to bear.
He watched on helplessly as the landlord continued talking to the suited men, discussing finances. Then they all shook hands and headed back to the fake wall.
“We can get this silly wall removed,” the landlord added as he operated the mechanism to make it turn.
Then they disappeared around the other side of the rotating wall.
Oliver unfurled himself from his crouching position. He had to talk to Armando; about the men, about the invention. He couldn’t just stand by and watch his world crumble around him.
He turned back to the door and knocked purposefully. The sound of muffled voices on the other side stopped.
“Come in,” Armando called out.
Oliver barged his way through the door and into Armando’s office. It was the first time he’d been inside and fully seen the extent of chaos.
Armando had several desks of varying sizes dotted about the outer walls. Each was covered in stacks of paper, some high and teetering. There were books everywhere, strewn on chairs, crammed onto shelves, stacked in piles on the floor, and four computers, each from different eras.
“Oliver, my dear boy,” Armando said, looking up from behind one of the oldest-looking computer models that Oliver guessed was from the seventies. “How can I help you?”
Lucas was standing in a policeman’s pose beside Armando. He looked at Oliver sinisterly. “Yes, how can we help, Oliver? Are you struggling with your task today?”
Oliver narrowed his eyes at Lucas. He was scared to challenge him but he couldn’t stand by and watch the wicked man take credit for all his hard work and ingenuity.
“The coat,” Oliver began, his throat thickening with anxiety. “It’s… you know that it’s…”
“Marvelous,” Armando replied with a nod. “Quite marvelous.”
Beside him, Lucas looked triumphant.
“But—” Oliver tried.
Armando interrupted, “Actually, Lucas, I was meaning to ask whether you could collect the bats and owls. It’s time for their annual maintenance.”
“We have Oliver for that now,” Lucas replied.
“I need him today,” Armando replied. “You can show him how to operate the birds another time.”
Lucas hesitated. He looked indignant, like he’d sucked a lemon. Clearly he didn’t want to leave Oliver alone with Armando. But he had no choice. Armando had given him an instruction. So after a moment of floundering, he finally nodded and left the room, cheeks blazing.
The moment the door shut, Oliver turned to Armando.
“The coat!” he blurted. “I made the coat! It was me, not him!”
Armando chuckled and nodded. “I know, Oliver. It’s okay, I know.”
Oliver paused. “You know?”
“Yes, of course,” Armando replied. “Lucas doesn’t have the talent to make this.” He looked down at the invisible patch in his hand. “Nor the perseverance. I must say it’s quite amazing. You have a real talent, Oliver. I’m proud of you.”
Oliver felt all the fight leave his body. It was such a relief to know Armando had already figured it out and that he didn’t have to fight for recognition. But then he remembered the other reason he’d needed to see Armando; the men in suits. His anxiety came back in full force.
“Armando,” he said, “there were men in the factory. The landlord, I think. Is he trying to sell the place?”
Armando looked somewhat perturbed by the news. “The landlord was here? Ah. Yes. Well, you weren’t supposed to find out about that, Oliver. Financial problems are for me to worry about, not you.”
“So it’s true. The factory is in financial difficulties. What are we going to do? Will the factory close?”
Armando paused. He patted the seat next to him. “Come, Oliver. Let me talk to you.”
Oliver went and sat beside him, his stomach swirling with anticipation.
“It’s true that we are in a dire financial position,” Armando began. “And it is entirely my doing. All these years I’ve devoted my time, talent, and effort toward inventions to help mankind. And yet I’ve not succeeded in selling a single one.”
“The invisibility coat,” Oliver suggested. “We could definitely sell that. And for a lot of money, I bet. It would solve all our problems.”
Armando shook his head. “It’s not as simple as that. With great inventions come great responsibility. We cannot just sell an invention suc
h as that to anyone. We must protect it. In the wrong hands, it can be used for great evil. In fact, I could have made a huge profit by selling my inventions to chemical and weapons companies, but I’ve always turned them down.”
Oliver was at least relieved to hear Armando put his morals first, but that didn’t mean their situation was any less woeful. Besides, he’d worked so hard on the coat he didn’t want it to be for nothing.
“There must be something we can do with the coat,” Oliver said.
Armando stroked his chin. “You’re right. We can’t just drop it and move on. Your success is a huge deal for the entire scientific community.”
“Maybe I could wire the rest of it,” Oliver said. “Then we could tour it around the country. Give talks at all the science fairs. We wouldn’t have to sell it if you’re worried about it falling into the wrong hands, but there must be some other way to make money from it.”
Armando nodded with enthusiasm. “I agree that it’s a major breakthrough. People the world over will be amazed by your achievement. We must do the rest of the rewiring, then sell the coat to the correct people.” He tapped his chin. “I’ll assign the rewiring task to Lucas. There are other things for you to do. Things more suited to your particular talents...”
Oliver felt a little swell of pride in his chest. “What other things do you need me to work on?”
But Armando hesitated, as though in deep contemplation. Oliver’s sense of pride began to fade, replaced instead by a swirl of apprehension in his stomach.
“Armando?” he asked. “What things do you mean?”
Armando didn’t answer. He seemed to be in two minds about continuing the conversation. Oliver was struck with a sudden thought. Did Armando know something about his powers? Was that what he’d meant when he’d said there were other things more suited to Oliver’s talents?
Finally, Armando turned his misty eyes to Oliver. “I don’t think you’re ready to know,” he said, his tone solemn.
“Know what?” Oliver asked, his voice now trembling slightly. He thought of the broken table leg, of the man and woman in his visions. He added, more insistently now, “Please, I can handle it, whatever it is.”
Armando was quiet for a long time.
“Oliver,” he said finally. “You’re what is known as a Seer.”
“A what?” Oliver stammered. He’d never heard the term before.
“A Seer,” Armando repeated. “It’s a power you’re born with. And it’s a power that can be harbored, once you’ve learned how to handle it.”
“Can you teach me?” Oliver asked. “Are you a Seer too?”
“Me?” Armando said. He shook his head. “No, dear boy. Not me. Not anyone. Throughout the entirety of history there have only been a few Seers. It’s not like they’re walking around all over the place. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if you were the only living Seer on earth.”
The thought hit Oliver like a bolt to the heart. What a lonely thing to exist with, being the only Seer. It was like being the last of a species.
“How do I learn then?” Oliver asked. “If I’m the only one? Who will teach me?”
Armando reached forward then and patted Oliver’s hands. “Enough. Let’s not ask any more questions, Oliver. I’ve already told you a lot. You need time to think about it and process it all. I don’t want to overwhelm you all in one day.”
“I need to know,” Oliver pleaded. “My whole life I’ve felt different and now I know that’s because I am. If there’s anything you’re keeping from me, please tell me now. I just want to know.”
Oliver’s throat felt dry and scratchy. His heart raced.
But Armando shook his head. “All I will tell you is that this is just the beginning for you. There is more to come. Much, much more.” He paused and looked deeply into Oliver’s eyes. “One day, Oliver Blue, you will save mankind.”
CHAPTER TEN
Oliver crawled into bed. He was so exhausted from the events of the day, from the bombshell Armando had dropped about him being a Seer.
But despite how strange and heavy his day had been, Oliver didn’t approach sleep with any sense of dread. His dreams since arriving at the factory had been bizarre to say the least but never bad. Even with the weight of mankind now on his shoulders, Oliver was confident he would not have any nightmares.
It didn’t take long for Oliver to fall into a deep slumber. In his dream, he was in the factory. It was the middle of the night and everything was very dark. All around him stood the giant robot machines that stood around the factory floor.
He heard a sound coming from the distance. He recognized it instantly as the whirring of an engine. As he peered through the gloom he saw a thin sliver of light coming from the direction of Armando’s office.
He followed the light hurriedly, confused as the engine noise grew louder and louder, then hurried in through the door and blinked in the brightness of Armando’s office.
It looked just the same as usual, except for one bizarre exception. There, standing in the middle of the room, was a large metal cocoon with frosted glass doors. It took up so much room there was hardly even any space to walk around it. Battling against the roaring engines, Oliver called out.
“Armando? Where are you?”
There was no answer. Suddenly the machine fell silent. There was a hiss as the doors opened. Then something fell from inside.
Oliver flinched backward, overcome with horror. Because lying prone on the floor, staring upward with dead, unseeing eyes, was Armando.
Oliver gasped and sat up. He was back in his room, the nightmare over. His forehead was wet with perspiration.
Feeling unsettled by the dream, Oliver knew that sleep would not return to him. It was very early in the morning but he readied himself for the day anyway. Then he went out to the factory floor.
As he expected, it was very quiet. Lucas was probably still up in his room at the top of the red spiral staircase of his own special wing, and Armando would still be sleeping.
But then Oliver heard voices. They seemed to be coming from the other side of the fake wall. He hurried toward it and pressed his ear against it. The fake wall must have been made of plasterboard because he hardly had to strain to overhear what was being said.
“So you can see how valuable this technology could be to you,” said the first voice. It was unmistakably Lucas’s.
“It’s fantastic,” another voice replied. “I can see how we at ChemCorp can make use of such a genius piece of technology.”
Oliver gulped. He didn’t like what he was overhearing. ChemCorp must be short for Chemical Corporation. Could they be one of the dangerous weapons manufacturers Armando had warned Oliver about? The ones he’d described as the wrong hands for his inventions? Lucas was clearly selling something to them.
Just then, Oliver heard the grating sound of the lever being pulled on the other side of the wall. He hurried away just as the turntable floor began to rotate and hid in a shadow cast by one of the giant bronze automatons.
Several suited men emerged from around the side of the wall. Confirming Oliver’s suspicion, Lucas was amongst them. Then, with absolute horror, he saw that Lucas was holding the little patch of fabric he’d made invisible. Lucas was selling his invention! To a chemical company!
Oliver had seen enough. He darted through the shadows as quickly and quietly as he could, making a beeline for Armando’s office.
He reached the closed door and began to knock. There was no answer from inside but Oliver opened the door anyway. Everything was in darkness. He flicked on the lights and let out a horrified gasp.
The room was in utter disarray, with papers everywhere and books fallen to the floor. Then Oliver saw something that made his blood run cold. Sticking out from beneath pieces of paper were two feet.
“Armando. No…!”
He hurried forward and began shoving paper out of the way, revealing more and more of Armando’s body as he did. He uncovered Armando’s face and drew back with a gasp.
Armando’s eyes were open, staring upward, and he was gasping for breath like a fish out of water.
“Oliver,” he croaked.
Oliver leaned forward, resting his hands on Armando’s shoulders. “Let me help you. I’ll call an ambulance.”
He went to stand, but Armando grasped his overalls in a tight fist.
“Oliver…” he murmured again.
Oliver realized then that the old man was trying to tell him something. He fought his urge to run for the phone and crouched back down, bringing his ear closer to Armando’s mouth so he didn’t have to strain his voice.
“I always knew you’d come.”
Oliver squinted at the old man’s face, his gaze darting from one eye to the other. “What do you mean?”
“I knew. I was waiting for you. You have a destiny.”
Oliver shook his head. There was no time for this. He needed to get Armando help. But the old man would not let him go.
“The room…” he mumbled.
He was becoming incoherent. Oliver tried to pry his hands off his overalls so he could escape and call for help.
“The room…” Armando said more insistently.
“What room?” Oliver asked with increasing panic. “Please, Armando, let me get you some help.”
Armando was shaking his head. “No time. No time. Remember the time.”
“Remember the time? What do you mean?” Oliver couldn’t make sense of his words.
“Don’t forget!” Armando cried with urgency. “Don’t forget the time…”
Then the light left him completely. He slumped back, his clasp of Oliver releasing.
Feeling like he was in a nightmare, Oliver shook Armando. This couldn’t be real.
Then he let out a strangled wail. Armando was dead.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The tears came instantly. Oliver fell forward against Armando’s chest, overcome with painful sobs. His whole body shook as he wept. He’d never felt grief like this.