The 8th Continent (10 page)

THE NEXT MORNING RICK AND EVIE WOKE UP EARLY TO SEE THEIR MOTHER OFF ON HER BUSINESS
trip. “Remember,” she told them before she left, “the best way to keep on the right side of Winterpole is to behave. Don't worry. They will free your father soon enough, as long as you don't do anything else to upset them.”

Mom's hovership blasted into the air and flew out of sight. Rick kicked a pebble down the asphalt driveway. His mother was off to Barbados, while he was stuck here, grounded. Rick had never been grounded in his life. It felt worse than when he melted the hard drive with his grammar homework. His father seemed bored with him, and now his mother thought him no better behaved than Evie. Everything was in jeopardy—his family, Lane Industries, his permanent record, and the eighth continent. Meanwhile, he had to get Dad out of that EMP-equipped squid-cuff before he blew up all the video games in the house.

A window on the fourth floor slid open, revealing his father perched on the sill. Dad had been careful to avoid all technology, and the lack of mechanical contact was making him act kind of funny. Now he needed their house helper robot to do everything for him—from a safe distance, of course. The computer was off-limits. He couldn't use the TV remote. He had gotten careless and tried to make himself a bologna sandwich (no crusts) and blew up the refrigerator when he opened it. Now they were all drinking warm soda pop, and Dad was still hungry.

“Kids!” he called from the window. “Hey! Come up here.”

Rick's parents' bedroom was the only place where Dad was safe from his squid-cuff's EMP. Mom had a strict no-screens-in-bed rule, so there was nothing in the room to explode.

When Rick, Evie, and 2-Tor entered, they found their father still in his pajamas—a flannel shirt and pants with toucans on them. He paced the floor in agitation, wearing a hole in the soft carpet.

“I've been thinking about your mission.” When he spoke, it was in abrupt spurts, each phrase like a little arc of electricity. “You've been home for too long. You must continue your quest to make the eighth continent.”

Sometimes Rick felt like Mom Junior talking to his dad. “Don't you ever listen? Mom said we had to give up our quest, for our safety and so you won't get taken away. Think of what would happen to Lane Industries if you're sent to prison. Everything you've built would disappear.”

“Never mind that,” he said. “I'll worry about your mother. You just worry about finding Doctor Grant.”

“‘Never mind that'?” Rick wondered how someone so dense could be related to him. “What on earth could be more important than
that
?”

2-Tor squawked in displeasure. This was not a turn of events that Mom would be happy to hear about.

Such a fact didn't seem to deter Rick's father, however. “Son, do you still have my half of the formula that I gave you?” he asked.

On reflex Rick placed his hand on the portable drive in his pocket. His father had entrusted him with his half of the Eden Compound—the family legacy.

“Rick, I know you think I'm crazy, but this risk is worth it. You want to save the family and protect the company. That's what I want too. But you can't go back. We have to go forward, and the eighth continent is right in front of us. The continent is the solution. Keep that hard drive safe. When you find Evan, combining both halves of the formula will be the only way you can create the Eden Compound.”

“What if we can't find him?” Rick asked, worried. “What if the Eden Compound doesn't work? What if . . . what if we fail?”

“We won't,” Evie said emphatically. “We can't.”

Her father flashed her a proud smile. “I love you, my darlings. I wish I could hug you.”

Evie took off her backpack, which contained her tablet. Then she took her phone out of her pocket and gave it to Rick. After making sure she had removed every last bit of technology from her body, she rushed into her father's open arms.

George gave her a big squeeze. “Take care of your brother,” he said. “If he worries too much, he'll get warts.”

“I heard that,” Rick said, feeling a little left out.

“Shhh . . .” their father hushed. “My bright, brave brood. You can accomplish anything if you believe in yourselves and trust each other.”

Evie sniffed, not even trying to hide the tears that were creeping up on her.

“Goodbye, sir!” 2-Tor said, blubbering with virtual emotion. He stomped toward Dad with open wings.

Evie screamed, “2-Tor! No! Wait!”

But it was too late. 2-Tor entered the anti-tech bubble, and the EMP reacted with such force that it blasted 2-Tor across the room. Rick's dad dropped to his knees in pain.

Sparks flew out of 2-Tor's amber eyes. Acrid smoke poured from his beak.

Rick ran to the robot's side and grabbed him, but his metal casing was hot to the touch and burned Rick's hand. “Ow!” he winced. “2-Tor! Are you okay?”

The robot's reply was stiff. “Good morning, Richard. It is time for a quiz.”

“No, it's not. It's time to get up.” He helped the birdbot to his feet.

“You must leave quickly,” his father grunted. “We are getting careless, and there is no time to lose.”

“2-Tor can't go like this.” Evie gestured toward the smoldering robot.

Rick agreed. “Evie's right, Dad. And Evie's never right.”

“Yeah!” Evie said, then, “Wait a minute.”

“No debates. Get that bird on the
Roost
and get out of here!”

THE
ROOST
FLEW FROM GENEVA HEADING NORTH BY NORTHWEST, OVER FRANCE, THE ENGLISH
Channel, and the handsome city of London, then high-fived Ireland and cut over the North Atlantic toward Greenland. 2-Tor navigated, while Rick manned the controls. Evie would never admit it to her brother, but Rick was an exceptional pilot.

Seeing the world from this height left Evie feeling frustrated. Every beach wore a necklace of accumulated garbage—sewage and seaweed and scuttlebutt, all scrambled together. She did not have to look hard to see signs of trash choking the environment.

Evie needed something to take her mind off it. She turned to Rick. “What do you think Doctor Grant is going to say when we tell him that we're Dad's kids, and we want to make a new continent with their old formula? I bet he's going to be super surprised and super excited to change the world.”

Rick shrugged. “I dunno, Evie. The guy has been at sea for a long time, assuming he is even still there. He went into hiding years ago. Maybe he left the ocean years ago too.”

“But then he could be anywhere!” Evie slapped her forehead. “Oh no . . .”

“Don't worry. I'm sure that if he's gone, there will be at least some clue to help us find our way to him. Besides, maybe he finished building the seastead, and he'll give us a grand tour!”

Evie hoped that was true. Imagine, an entire city floating on the water. Perhaps some modern-day pioneers had already moved into the houses built alongside the artificial roads. Maybe entrepreneurial families had already established ordinary lives there. Something Evie's father had taught her was that progress doesn't really happen until something extraordinary becomes normal. All the great scientific breakthroughs of the previous century were terrifying when they were first presented. Cars, airplanes, the Internet. When social robots hit the market, people thought there would be an uprising and machine overlords would enslave them. But that was just ignorant fear. Maybe human beings would enslave each other if they had the means and the will to do it, but robots would never be so cruel. It was the same with her father's inventions. When he first displayed his hovership technology, the only thing anyone talked about was the danger. But he had proven them all wrong. Now those same protesters could not imagine life without a speedy hover engine.

Rick grabbed Evie's arm, distracting her from her thoughts. “We're flying over Iceland now. Look!”

“Wow!” Evie said, peering out the window at the fields below, trying to orient herself. “It's so green!”

“Haha. Yup! Iceland is green, and Greenland is ice.”

“How come?”

“Children,” 2-Tor interrupted, “your parents have instructed me to issue you a quiz at certain times in your travels, so that you remain academically efficient.”

Evie rolled her eyes. “Yeah, 2-Tor, we know. You quiz us all the time.”

2-Tor apparently wasn't dissuaded. “It is time for a quiz,” he said. “Testing initiated.”

“Oh, here we go.” Evie rolled her eyes. “This should be fun.”

“It is fun,” Rick said, “assuming you study and know the answers.”

“Children,” 2-Tor growled like an overworked refrigerator, “your parents have instructed me to issue you a quiz at certain times in your travels, so that you remain academically efficient. It is time for a quiz. Testing initiated.”

Rick and Evie exchanged a worried look. This was not normal.

“Uh . . . yeah, 2-Tor,” Evie said. “You just mentioned that.”

“Quiz time!” 2-Tor said. “Geography. True or false, Erik the Red discovered Greenland in the year 983.”

Rick started to speak when Evie cut him off. She wanted to give a correct answer for once.

“True!”

“Bzzzzt!”
2-Tor flapped his wings in irritation. “False. Erik the Red discovered Greenland in the year 982.”

Rick groaned. “Come on, Evie. I knew that one.”

“Mythology. What Arctic sea creature was wrongly thought to be the mythical unicorn?”

“Narwhal!” Rick cheered.

“False!” 2-Tor spat. “The answer is the kangaroo.”

Rick glared. “That's wrong, 2-Tor. Kangaroos come from Australia, not the North Pole.”

“Incorrect,” 2-Tor spat back. “The correct answer is hydrogen-hydrogen-oxygen. More commonly known as H
₂
O.”

Evie clung to her brother's arm. “Ricky . . . 2-Tor is scaring me.”

2-Tor spread his wings. One hit the wall of the cockpit.
Dong!
“Answer the question, children. Physics. What are the four major forces involved in flight?”

“Gravity?” Evie started to say.

“Shh!” Rick hushed her. “She means weight, 2-Tor. The term is weight. It's the downward force that objects in flight need to fight against to stay in the air.”

“Correct, Richard,” 2-Tor said. “You have sixty seconds until system shutdown.”

The calm and measured way 2-Tor announced that made Evie's stomach curl into knots. “System shutdown? Shutdown?! What's that?”

2-Tor's voice took on a dark, haunting tone. “Your parents linked me to the electrical systems of the
Roost
. I have been instructed not to let you fly anywhere if you do not pass regularly scheduled quizzes. I will disable the
Roost
's engines if you fail.”

Rick's eyes filled with panic. “But we're flying right now, hundreds of feet in the air. You can't shut off the engines— we'll crash.”

“You are quite mistaken, Richard.” 2-Tor waggled a feather at him. “Sensors show that we are currently parked in front of Lane Mansion.”

Evie looked out the window. They had passed Iceland and were over the freezing waters of the Arctic Ocean. If the crash didn't kill them—and it almost certainly would—the freezing waters would do them in.

“Please identify the remaining three major forces of flight.”

“This is ridiculous,” Rick said. “I'm going to try to land the
Roost
before 2-Tor brings it down.”

“That answer is incorrect,” 2-Tor said. “Forty-five seconds until system shutdown.”

“Can't you just answer the question?” Evie asked.

Rick ignored her, which only served to make Evie even more afraid than she was already. Her brother was always eager to give the answer. Was it possible . . .
he didn't know it
?

Rick pulled on the throttle, but nothing happened. “2-Tor!” he shouted at the robot. “Why can't I pilot the
Roost
?”

2-Tor answered plainly, “It would be dangerous to attempt to administer a quiz while you were distracted by flying the
Roost
. I have initiated the autopilot for your safety.”

“This is so messed up!” Evie screamed. “2-Tor, stop this at once.”

“That answer is incorrect,” 2-Tor said. “Thirty seconds until system shutdown.”

“Rick, do something!”

“I'm sorry, Evie. I don't remember. I know I read about it, but I didn't have time to study my physics notes before we left.”

Evie took him by the shoulders. “Rick—you have to remember. Please, think!”

“Twenty seconds until system shutdown,” 2-Tor said.

“Okay, okay.” Rick squeezed his chin like it was about to fall off. “So weight is what pushes the airplane down. In order to prevent that from happening, you need to be able to keep air moving across the wing. This causes . . . um . . . uh . . . lift?”

“Correct. Fifteen seconds remaining.”

Rick swallowed hard and took a deep, nervous breath.

“It's okay, Rick,” Evie said. “You can do it. I believe in you.”

“There's also the force that, um . . . Evie, I can't remember!”

“You can! Think!”

“There's the force that propels the airplane forward. It's called, um, thrust?”

“Correct. Ten seconds remaining. Preparing to disable engines in ten seconds.”

“Evie! I can't come up with the last force,” Rick said.

“Five seconds remaining.”

“Oh no!” Evie wailed. “Having a robot tutor is such a drag.”

“Four.”

“That's it!” Rick cheered. “Drag! The friction moving between the object and the air. It's air resistance. That's the fourth major force of flight.”

“Three.”

“What?!” Rick and Evie screamed together.

“Two.”

Rick grabbed 2-Tor around the middle and shook him as hard as he could. “2-Tor! Stop the countdown! I got the question right.”

“One.”

Evie hung on to the back of the pilot's chair. The hum of the hover engines died. Her stomach did a somersault into her throat as the
Roost
plummeted toward the ocean below.