Science Fair (36 page)

“You’re
nuts
,” said Jason.

“Toby,” said agent Lefkon, “who is using the projects?”

“I don’t know,” said Toby. “But he’s here!”

“See?” said Jason. “Nuts.”

Turow looked toward the ME projects, then back at Toby. “Al I see,” he said, “is some stuff on some tables. Let’s go.”

“No!” said Toby. “You have to believe me!”

“Why?” said Turow.

“Because he’s right,” said a new voice.

“And who are
you
?” said Turow.

A tal , thin figure with wild hair and dark glasses stepped forward.

“My name,” he said, “is Neal Sternabite.”

Lance Swingle’s face went from red to white. “You!” he said.

“Yes,” said Sternabite. “Me.”

T
HE PRESIDENT
, at the insistence of his staff, had been hustled down to the Situation Room in the basement deep under the West Wing of the White House, where he would be safer in case of an attack. He was now standing with his top civilian and military advisors, looking at a large video screen displaying a map of the United States. Overlaid on the map of the States were lines showing the ten major regions of the U.S. power grid.

The regions that stil had power were white; the ones that had lost power were dark gray. At the moment, there were only three areas left with power: Texas, the Southeast, and the Mid-Atlantic states. As the president watched, Texas went gray. The president said a bad word, then spun toward his chief of staff, who was, as always, on the phone.

“Wel ?” said the president.

“FBI is at the school, and they have apprehended some suspects,” said the chief of staff.

“Have they found the guy who’s doing this?” said the president, pointing at the screen.

“Not yet, sir,” said the chief of staff, wincing.

“WELL TELL THEM TO FIND HIM NOW!” said the president.

On the screen, the Southeast went gray.

T
UROW LOOKED AT STERNABITE
, then at Swingle.

“You know this guy?” he said.

“Yes,” said Swingle. “And I wouldn’t believe anything he says. He’s insane.”

“Nice to see you, too, Lance,” said Sternabite.

“Okay, whoever you are,” said Turow, “I don’t have time for you now. We’re dealing with a matter of urgent national security.”

“It’l get a lot more urgent if you don’t listen to that boy,” said Sternabite.

“Is that a threat?” said Turow.

“No,” said Sternabite. “It’s a fact. The blackouts are being control ed from here, from this science fair.”

“Okay,” said Turow. “Who are you?”

“My name is Neal Sternabite. I’m a scientist.”

Swingle snorted loudly. Turow ignored him.

“Mr. Sternabite,” he said, “if you know something about the blackouts, I’m going to ask you to come with us. You can explain your theory when we get back to headquarters.”

“It’s not a theory,” said Sternabite. “And we don’t have time to go anywhere. Do you know what an EMP is?”

“No,” said Turow. “And
I
don’t have time to—”

“It’s an electromagnetic pulse,” said Sternabite. “It’s usual y created by a nuclear detonation, but there are other ways. That’s what’s going on here.” Sternabite pointed toward the ME kids’ projects. “He’s going to shut the power down again, and then he’s going to discharge a capacitor bank into the grid. The grid wil act as a giant antenna. He’s going to fry al the electronics in Washington, D.C., and probably for hundreds of miles around. You understand what that means?”

“No,” said Turow. “And I—”

“It means the government goes down,” said Sternabite. “And it doesn’t come back up. Even when they get the power restored, if they can, most of the federal government computers are lost, along with a major chunk—a
huge
chunk—of data. Al erased. The government is crippled. Its brain and central nervous system are gone. There are no records, no communications, no money coming in or going out. You, for example, no longer get paid—you and mil ions like you. Federal authority breaks down everywhere. These blackouts? The riots? The panic? It’s nothing compared with what’s going to happen next. The economy goes, civil society col apses, and the United States stumbles back to the Stone Age.”

“How do you know this…this EMP is going to happen?” said Turow.

“Because I built these kids’ projects,” said Sternabite.

“Wait a minute,” said Turow. “Why would you
build
them, if you want to
stop
them?”

“Because I didn’t realize what he was going to do with them,” said Sternabite.

“What
who
was going to do?” said Turow.

Sternabite looked at Toby, who shook his head.

“I don’t know,” said Sternabite.

“I told you,” said Swingle, smirking. “He’s insane.”

Turow looked at Iles and Lefkon, then turned back to Sternabite.

“You’re coming with us,” he said.

“No,
listen
,” said Sternabite. He took a step toward the ME kids’ projects. “Just give me two minutes and I’l —”

“Hold it,” said Iles, grabbing Sternabite’s arm.

Turow said, “You’re not touching anything.” He turned to the waiting police officers. “Al right,” he said. “Let’s get these people out of here. And don’t let any of them touch anything.” As two officers approached him, Sternabite looked around desperately. His eyes fel on Micah, who was standing next to Toby and stil holding Fester.

“You,” he said. “Kid. Did your frog levitate?”

“What?” said Micah.

“Your
frog
,” said Sternabite, his voice rising. “Did it float?”

“What’s he talking about?” said Turow.

“He’s lost his mind,” sneered Swingle.

“Did it float?”
repeated Sternabite.

“Um, yeah,” said Micah. To Toby, he whispered, “Why’s he asking about Fester?”

Toby was wondering the same thing.

“Because I was thinking,” said Sternabite, as the officers grabbed his arms, “you’d get better results if you increased the power.”

“Huh?” said Micah. “But you said to keep it at ten percent. You said if—”

“I know what I said,”
hissed Sternabite. The officers were pul ing him away, along with Toby’s parents, Vrsk, and Drmtsi. Two more had taken hold of Tamara; four more were coming toward Micah and Toby.

“You need more power!” shouted Sternabite. “Now!”

“What is he
talking
about?” said Micah.

Suddenly, Toby understood. As the officers reached him he reached for the controls to Micah’s project. The power knob was set at ten percent.

“STOP HIM!” shouted Turow. “DON’T LET HIM TOUCH THAT!”

An officer grabbed Toby’s right arm, but his left was stil free. He grabbed the knob and cranked it al the way to one hundred.

Suddenly, Toby, Micah, the four police officers, and Fester the frog were lifted off the ground, tumbling in the air above Micah’s project. Micah yelped as he lost his grip on Fester, who floated upward to the gym ceiling.

“Fester!” shouted Micah, watching helplessly as the levitating frog landed upside down on a heating duct, then wriggled through a vent. Toby and the other humans stopped rising about ten feet above the table, where they waved their arms and legs with no effect other than to accidental y punch and kick each other. Toby heard shouts below, the loudest being Turow yel ing, ‘“GRAB THEM! GRAB THEM!” Three more officers lunged forward, only to be swept up in the super-powerful magnetic field. There were now nine bodies thrashing in the air while the FBI agents and the remaining earthbound officers stood by uncertainly.

In the confusion, Sternabite broke away from Turow and walked quickly toward the ME projects.

“HE’S GETTING AWAY!” shrieked Swingle, pointing at Sternabite.

“Stop him!” shouted Turow. Before Sternabite could reach the projects, one officer tackled him to the gym floor, and a second landed on top of them. As they struggled on the floor, Turow turned his attention back to the shouting people suspended in the air above Micah’s project.

“Any ideas?” he said to Lefkon and Iles.

“Maybe we could unplug it?” said Lefkon.

“Right!” said Turow. “The plug must be under the table.” He studied the situation for a moment, then dropped down onto his bel y. “Hold my feet,” he said to Iles. Then, with Iles gripping his shoes, Turow inched forward toward the table. He pul ed the drape aside and looked underneath. Micah’s project, he saw, was not plugged into the school electrical system; it was plugged into a smal , humming device that looked strangely like a Slurpee machine. The device had an on/off switch. Wincing, Turow reached out and turned it off.

THUD CRASH CRASH THUD OWW OOOH CRASH THUD

Nine bodies slammed down onto the table, which slammed down onto Turow. Iles, Lefkon, and the remaining officers lunged forward to help. Moaning bodies were sprawled everywhere. Nobody noticed that when Micah’s table col apsed, it knocked the lid off the fifty-five–gal on drum ful of Diet Coke that formed part of Brad Pitt Wemplemeyer’s project. And nobody noticed that, in the struggle to help his fal en comrades, one of the police officers was now bumping into the metal stand that held the giant nuclear Mentos, which was s-l-o-w-l-y fal ing over into the barrel…

FWOOOOOOSH

What happened next was undoubtedly the greatest demonstration of unleashing the power of surface tension in the history of science fairs, although none of the participants actual y saw it. Instead, they found themselves engulfed in a wave of brown foam that bil owed upward and outward from the fifty-five-gal on drum in a spectacular Diet Coke volcano. Toby felt himself being swept across the floor, unable to see anything except foam, and barely able to breathe. He slammed into a wal and managed to get to his feet, then felt himself being dragged sideways. He clutched the wal , trying to find something to hold on to. He came to an opening—a doorway?—and tried to duck into it, but the foam surge was pul ing him past.

Then somebody grabbed his arm. He felt himself being yanked into the opening. It was, in fact, a doorway. Like Toby, the person holding his arm was covered with foam; his only distinguishing characteristic was his sunglasses.

Sternabite.

“Okay, kid,” he said. “Now it’s up to us.”

A
S THE PRESIDENT AND HIS TOP STAFF
watched glumly, the last bright section on the electronic map of the power grid—the Middle Atlantic region—went gray.

The president shot a questioning look at his secretary of Homeland Security, who was on the phone. The secretary nodded and said, “Washington’s dark again, sir.

Telecommunications are total y down everywhere, nationwide.”

The president said a bad word. Nobody disagreed.

“What about the school?” barked the president. “What’s taking them so long?”

“Uh, sir,” said the chief of staff, also on the phone. “About the school. There’s been a, um, setback.”

“What?” said the president.

“Our FBI people have, um, lost contact with some of the suspects.”

“Lost contact? How?”

“There was some kind of…eruption.”

“You mean explosion?”

“No, sir. They’re cal ing it an eruption, a massive quantity of foam.”

“Chemical weapons?”

“Uh, no, sir. They’re saying it smel s like, um…”