Cragbridge Hall, Volume 2: The Avatar Battle (9 page)

The young man sputtered, gulping in air as deep and as fast as he could. “Air! I want air!”

“If I were him,” Carol said. “I would say ‘air’ and ‘to punch you in the face.’”

Both Abby and Derick suppressed their laughter.

Socrates pulled the young man back up onto the shore. He crouched down and looked at him closely. “When you want knowledge and understanding as badly as you wanted air, you won’t have to ask anyone to give it to you.”

The image faded out. Derick had to think about that for a minute: if the young man wanted knowledge, he could find it. He didn’t have to ask someone else for it—he just had to really want it. In fact, if he wanted it badly enough, that might be the best way to learn.

Abby looked down at the black box. “So what now? I really want to know the answer, but all we have is a keypad.”

“We obviously have to type in some sort of password,” Carol said. “I think with your grandpa, it would have something to do with what we just saw.” Carol pointed where the image of Socrates had been moments before. “Maybe type in Socrates.”

Abby started to type in S-O- . . . “Um, there’s no C on this keypad.”

Dead end.

“There are tons of words we could type in. There has to be more of a clue.” Abby looked down at the keypad. “The letters are all out of order. I mean, they’re not in alphabetical order or the order they’re in on our rings’ virtual keyboard. And there are numbers in there too. Let’s see . . . there are . . . twenty characters . . . four are numbers, so only sixteen letters we can pick from.”

“Wait.” Derick raised his hands. “The last thing Grandpa said in his message was a question: ‘How badly do you want to know?’”

Derick thought for a moment as he looked down at the keypad. How badly did they want to know? He stared at the random assortment of letters, letting his mind rearrange them, trying to make sense of them. In a flash, he had an idea. He looked closely, searching the keypad for an A and then an I. There. And an R. Yep. He let his eyes backtrack to see if the letters before a-i-r were there. He moved the remaining letters around in his mind. Yep. They were all there. “Look,” Derick said. He began to punch in the letters:

a s b a d l y a s y o u w a n t e d a i r

“That’s what Socrates said,” Abby said, then felt weird for having said something so obvious aloud.

The panel slid to the side, opening the compartment in the black box. Grandpa appeared again, blocking Derick’s view of what was inside. “Very good,” he said. “It is an interesting story, isn’t it? If we are determined enough, we can always learn. I believe this is what Socrates was trying to teach. It wasn’t that he was unwilling to teach the young man, but that he wanted his pupil to be an active learner, not one who expects others to simply give them answers. Though I am happy to help you find your answers, the question is, really,
How determined are you?
I require determination. Do you want the answers as badly as you want air?”

Derick looked over at Abby, who raised her thumb. Carol smiled big. He wasn’t sure if that was because she wanted to know or if she was flirting again.

Grandpa continued, “Learning to think in new ways, to ponder consequences, and to contemplate possibilities is a noble endeavor. Learning to learn is worth the journey.” The image of Grandpa disappeared. Inside the compartment were three small white spheres, each about the size of a grape.

“So, cool little marbles are going to help us figure out how your grandpa knows where in time Muns has attacked,” Carol said. “I’m not sure I see the connection.”

“I’m not sure I even know what these are,” Abby admitted.

“Let’s figure it out,” Derick said, reaching in and scooping up the spheres. Once in his hand, one of the three glowed. It was a dim glow, but it glowed just the same.

“Whoa, trippy,” Carol said. “Maybe it’s just a really cool flashlight for when we go in the basement.”

“It’s not that bright,” Derick said. “Besides, what about the other two that aren’t glowing?”

“Maybe they’re out of batteries,” Carol suggested.

“Can I hold them?” Abby stretched out her hand. Derick agreed and passed them to his sister. Once they changed hands, the glowing sphere went out, but a different one began to glow. “Huh. Why did that happen?”

“My turn, my turn,” Carol squealed. Abby passed the orbs. The same thing happened again, but this time, the third sphere illuminated. “There’s one for each of us.”

“Awesome,” Derick said, taking the sphere that glowed with his touch.

Abby picked hers up, holding it close for a better look. “Now all we have to do is figure out what to do with them.”

10

A Virtual Bridge

Abby tried not to think about flaming dirigibles and Brazilian dance-fighting teachers. She tried not to think about Muns. She tried not to think about the sphere in her pocket that lit up when she touched it. Now it was the first day of a new semester. Abby had a new start. She had to focus.

“Welcome to your second semester at Cragbridge Hall.” A tall, thin woman with dark brown skin and short cropped hair stood at the front of the room. “I hope that you enjoyed your first semester, but because my class wasn’t part of it, this semester will go down in your personal histories as the best so far.” She winked. “But I have a question first, ‘Who is ready for some
MATH
?’” She asked it like she was introducing a rock star or beginning a prize fight.

She didn’t get much of a response.

“What?” she said. “I said, ‘
WHO
is
READY
for some
MATH
?’” She put her hand to her ear like she was waiting for the class to go wild with cheers and applause. It didn’t happen. “How about some
ENGINEERING
?” A couple of people clapped.

She stood up straight. “I can see I have some work to do. My name is Mrs. Trinhouse, and I will be your Math and Engineering teacher. And before you leave my class, you will be
so
much more excited than this.” She smiled big, her white teeth standing out against her full dark lips.

Trinhouse. Abby had heard that name before.

“You have already completed your first semester of math and that will be absolutely vital to what we do here. But now it is time to amp up the learning and your experience. You’ll notice that, like many classrooms at Cragbridge Hall, this one has several booths along the walls. Each booth is designed for a more interactive experience. I will invite you to enter a booth, and then put on the suit and sensors that you find there. The booths and their equipment are very similar to the avatar equipment you’ve used. Oscar Cragbridge has found methods of using much of the same technology in many different ways. In this case, your suit will not connect to a robot avatar or even to any place that is actually real. These virtuality booths will allow you to experience a world that doesn’t exist. You will see what has been programmed, what has been built. You will feel what someone in this virtual world would feel. The experience is completely immersive.”

Mrs. Trinhouse opened a flat case and displayed what was inside to her class. Abby gasped. It was a series of small white spheres about the size of grapes. Each rested in a soft encasing. “These are the worlds I have built,” she said. “Because creating each world requires massive amounts of data, we have to use physical spheres to hold it all.” She plucked one marble from the case and held it up for the class. “Building each one of these worlds took months—some took years—but it was well worth the work. We will all use this one today.” She pressed a button on a console in the front of the room. A small arm emerged, and Mrs. Trinhouse placed the orb within its three mechanical fingers. It then retracted into the machine.

Abby couldn’t believe it. Was
that
what her sphere contained? A virtual world? Her mind filled with possibilities and questions. What information was in that sphere? How would it answer her question? And how might it help stop Muns in the future?

“It’s your turn,” Mrs. Trinhouse said. “Go ahead and hook up.”

Abby left her desk, entered an open booth, and put on the equipment. She hoped she was better at this than she was at the avatars. Once she had her sensors and visor on, she hooked up to a suspension system.

“Are you all ready?” Mrs. Trinhouse asked.

A few mumbles of “yes” were her reply. That was not enough for Mrs. Trinhouse.

“I
said
, are you
READY?
”

This time the class began to respond.

“We’re getting there,” Mrs. Trinhouse said. “As you know, you can use math for all sorts of things: measurements, equations, planning, and so forth. But it is essential in
creation
. I’m going to show you one of my worlds and as you watch, think about how measurements and math equations may be necessary to put it together. What calculations would you have to make? What designing? What engineering? Here you go.” As she started the program, a whole new world blossomed before Abby—buildings, mountains, a deep green sky, a large ocean, a red and an orange moon at different points in the sky. It had all the depth and detail of somewhere real.

“I am going to give you a few minutes to explore before I give you your first assignment. Oh, by the way, brace yourselves.” All of a sudden, Abby was in the air high above the buildings. Somehow she was hovering. “The pads that cover your virtual suit take in air and push it back out at such a rate that you can float,” Mrs. Trinhouse said. “Or fly. Though right now these suits only exist in a computer program, in theory they would work in real life if anyone would spend the money to build them. Just tilt your arms and legs to move. The pads on your underarms and along the sides and back of your legs will guide you.”

Abby practiced. She could move from one side to another. And if she tilted her whole body forward, she could dive down and come closer to the city.

“Can you imagine the math and engineering necessary to make these suits?” Mrs. Trinhouse asked. “That is extremely advanced. In this class, we will start out simpler . . . but first, go and explore.”

Abby moved over the ocean, gradually going faster as she became more comfortable. Drawing closer to the city below, she saw a variety of buildings and parks. The closer she came, the more perspective she gained. The skyscrapers looked taller than any she had ever seen and some of the buildings were completely unique. One looked like a giant spiral, another like a woman balancing on one leg—some sort of dancing pose. Another looked like a lion’s head. Absolutely incredible.

Abby glided through the city. The park had lakes contained in giant saucers stacked on one another. Each had a drain and children could travel from one to the next. A giant slide wrapped around trees and shrubs. One tree had an entire house in its branches, a net dangling beneath it for safety. As she flew between buildings, Abby noticed the streets below were thin, leaving no room for cars. Strange. But the place seemed so clean. Perhaps that was why.

“Be sure to see the system underground as well,” Mrs. Trinhouse instructed. Abby saw an entryway with stairs leading downward. She glided over, careful not to hit a wall. That would still be painful, even in a virtual world. Line after line of subway cars waited on tracks. Each was a single car large enough to fit one family. Using the controls visible through her visor, Abby turned off her suit so she could walk. She entered one of the cars and selected a location. She shot through the underground, making turns at frightening speeds, yet it was more comfortable than Abby would have expected. It was the fastest and most personal transportation she had ever experienced. No wonder there were no cars above.

“Remember math and engineering,” Mrs. Trinhouse’s voice echoed through the booths. “These things do not get built without math and engineering.”

Abby came up above ground in what looked like some sort of amusement park. She saw huge rides—coasters, sky lifts, and massive carousels. But one particular attraction stood out. A giant robot dragon thumped and roared in the middle of a group of squealing children. They each had guns and were shooting lasers at the beast. Different spots were marked with different amounts of points. “I totally nailed him,” one virtual child cried out. “Give me the princess back, you horrible beast,” another screamed.

“As I explained before,” Mrs. Trinhouse said. “I built this world. I invented it. I built it out of the virtual pieces I will give to you. The large difference between this program and a video game you might play is that my world here follows the laws of our world. You cannot build something just from sheer imagination; it must be something that can actually work based on the laws we know. All of this would work in reality. Of course, it would be extremely expensive, but according to the program, it would work.”

Awesome. What did the sphere her grandfather gave her have in it? Was it another world like this? How would it prepare them to learn the answer? She wanted to see as soon as possible.

“I’ll admit,” Mrs. Trinhouse said, “for those of you who have seen the mechanical dragon in the amusement park, he would take quite a bit of maintenance if he were real. But I think Bubbles would be worth it.”