The Flinkwater Factor (12 page)

30

St
inky No-Tail

My plan was to get Myke to
try
to kiss me. I would then fend him off at the last instant, apologize, and call my beta test a success. Is that cruel? Yes, but this was important. My biological clock was ticking.

Myke was sprawled on the floor of his bedroom menagerie watching his chinchilla roll around in a clear plastic exercise ball. Those balls are supposed to be fun for the animal, but that chinchilla looked kind of frantic if you ask me.

“Hey,” I said, willing Myke to look at me.

“Hey,” he said, not looking up.

The room smelled even more animally than I remembered. I moved closer so that he could get a whiff of my perfume.

“Stupid stinky no-tail.”

“What did you say?” I said, giving him one
second to apologize before I clobbered him.

“I didn't say anything,” Myke said. He pointed to a cage on the top shelf. “He did.”

“Ugly naked face,”
said the monkey in the cage.

Or rather, that's what came out of the collar around his neck.

“Give me peanut. I throw poop at you.”

I said, “Mykey  . . . you raided Area Fifty-One again?”

“Nope,” Myke said. “That's the same monkey I told you about before—the one Redge chased out of the building. Don't get too close. He's not kidding about throwing poop.”

“Yuck! What's he doing
here
?”

“Making my life miserable.” He stood up, took a peanut from his pocket, and held it out to the monkey. A tiny hand darted between the bars and snatched it.

“Ha-ha, stupid no-tail, I steal your peanut!”

“I mean, how did he
get
here?”

“Oh. I found him. I was worried about him. I thought, if I was a monkey and I escaped from a top secret laboratory, where would I go?”

I looked at him blankly. I had no idea where a monkey would go.

“To the nearest trees!” he said.

“Oh.” I guess it was obvious.

“Area Fifty-One is only a hundred yards from Flinkwater Park. I went there with a bag of peanuts
and a cage. Sure enough, Dipwad showed up.”

“You call him
Dipwad
?”

“It's nicer than what
he
calls
me.
”

“Ugly stinky no-tail, I eat your peanut! Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!”
Dipwad bared his sharp little teeth and threw the empty shell at us.

“How did you catch him?”

“I put some peanuts in the cage and waited for him to go in. He's really not very smart.”

“Smell like bad food rotten stinky stupid poop.”

“Is this how all monkeys think?”

Myke shrugged and sat down on the edge of his bed.

“Why don't you turn off his collar?”

“He bites.”

“They're going to want the monkey back just as bad as they wanted Redge. You could get in serious trouble!”

“I don't think so,” he said. “There were a lot of monkeys there. They probably don't even realize he's gone.”

“They will.”

He shrugged. “I guess.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Peanut! Peanut! Ugly no-tail give peanut!”

Myke, looking miserable, said “Wait for the battery to run out?”

I had picked a bad time to practice my feminine
wiles on Myke Duchakis. But since I'd gone to all the trouble of putting on makeup and perfume, I thought I'd make an effort. If I could break through Myke's monkey-induced misery, it would prove that my strategy was effective.

I sat down next to him on the bed. This was not such a provocative act as you may think—Myke's bed was strewn with boxes and plastic tubs of several varieties of animal food for his chinchilla, his mice, his pigeon, his three-legged squirrel, and his leopard gecko. There were also several peanut shells, presumably flung there by Dipwad. It was about as romantic as a landfill.

I said, “Myke.”

He looked at me. “Do you have a cold?”

“No! Why?”

“Your voice sounds weird.”

So much for my attempt at talking sexy-sultry. I tried batting my eyes.

“Do you have something in your eye?”

I played with my hair and giggled.

“What's so funny?” he asked.

“You're an idiot,” I said.

“Huh?”

“Kiss me,” I said, resorting to more direct tactics.

“Why would I do that?”

I clobbered him.

Okay, all I did, really, was punch him on the shoulder and stomp out of the room.

“Dear Lord, is everything all right?” Mrs. Duchakis inquired.

“Do you know that there are
two
lower primates in there?” I said.

Looking back, that may have been a mistake. Myke probably didn't want his mom to know about the monkey. But I was in no mood for intelligent decisions.

31

Grey Goo

It was only ten in the morning, and my plan was already falling apart, all because of that stupid monkey. I hadn't even gotten to step 2: Find Romantic Kissing Spot.

I knew one thing for sure. The event could not take place in Billy's sanctuary, or anywhere with a working tablet in view. I refused to compete with a warrior-queen avatar. It would have to be someplace quiet, private, and most important,
romantic
.

Unfortunately, such places were in short supply in Flinkwater. All I could think of was Jerry's Custard, the ice cream shop on Old Main Street. It was not particularly quiet, private, or romantic—but they did have an
amazing
maple caramel crisp custard, and I knew that was one thing that would get Billy out of his boy cave. I sent him a text.

Maple Caramel Crisp Custard. Now.

It took him a minute to respond.

Can't. Nanolab.

Nanolab? It was summer break—why would he be going to school?

??????????????

His answer came back instantly.

Grey goo!!!

Grey goo?

I knew what grey goo was, of course. I mean, who doesn't know about grey goo?

Sorry—I am making assumptions. Maybe you slept through that part of your nanotech class.

I am being sarcastic again.

You know what a nanobot is, right? Short for nanorobot? A very small robot? Smaller than the diameter of a human hair? Smaller even than the smallest thing visible to the human eye? Well, now you know.

Most nanobots are pretty simple. Billy and I had been lab partners last spring, and we'd built our own bot. All it did was roll around in a circle—not terribly useful—but it was still pretty cool. Some advanced nanobots are already being used to treat diseases such as cancer. But nanorobotics is still in its infancy, and the reason for
that
can be summed up in two words: “grey goo.”

Imagine you built a nanobot whose only job was to build more tiny nanobots exactly like itself. And that all the baby robots did exactly the same thing—build more identical robots. And imagine that these self-replicating, invisibly small bots had unlimited access to energy and materials. What you would have is an ever-growing mass of nanobots consuming everything in their path. Eventually they might cover the entire surface of the earth in—you guessed it—grey goo.

Nobody wants that to happen, so nanobot researchers tend to be very cautious.

Of course, no one has ever actually
made
a perpetually self-replicating nanobot. Even if you did make one, it would quickly run out of food or energy. In practice, grey goo is impossible.

Which is what they used to say about human flight.

So who knows? In any case, I knew that Billy would not be able to resist going over to the school
to check it out.
Grey goo!
To him that would be the coolest thing ever—right up there with aliens landing in Flinkwater. Or the sun going nova.

I just might be able to compete with a warrior-queen avatar, but grey goo was like the Unholy Grail of nanotech. If I wanted to get kissed by Billy, I would have to go to the Flinkwater
High School nanotech laboratory.

32

“The Monkey Is on the Move”

On my way to the high school I counted three black SUVs. Were they watching me, or was this a normal variation in their patrol routine?

It may be that I noticed the DHS more than most people due to the fact that Agent Ffelps had taken a personal interest in me. Billy had the same problem—a black SUV was parked permanently outside his house. If he wanted to get out without being seen, he had to take the sewer route.

My dad said we were being monitored extra closely because our parents were Assets of Critical Importance. George G. George was the acting president of ACPOD, my dad was Director of Cyber-Security Services, and my mom was the Human Resources Director. Also, I think Agent Ffelps was still convinced that Billy and I were
terrorists, which was why I wasn't too surprised when one of the SUVs pulled over and two guys in dark suits jumped out and accosted me.

Okay, maybe “accosted” is too strong. I could say they “invited” me to step into the vehicle. In any case, I found myself sitting in the back of a government SUV facing a smarmily smiling Agent Ffelps.

“Good morning, Mr. Ffelps,” I said.

“Good morning, Ginger,” said Agent Ffelps.

“What can I do for you?” I asked sweetly.

“I'm looking for a monkey,” he said smarmily.

“Have you experimented with mirrors?” Since my mom wasn't there, I did not feel the need to be so polite.

Ffelps did his scripted laugh: “Heh-heh-heh.”

“We know you were just visiting Mycroft Duchakis,” he said.

That threw me for a second.

“Oh, you mean Mykey?”

“Yes. The boy with all the animals.”

I waited for him to continue.

“You didn't happen to see a monkey while you were there, did you?”

“I'm not sure,” I said. “He has a lot of animals.”

“So I have heard. We're awaiting a search warrant. I thought perhaps you could illuminate us in the interim.”

“Illuminate? Interim?”

Agent Ffelps sighed, longly and loudly. Try it sometime. It's not easy.

“Ginger,” he said, “I like you.”

I did not return the compliment.

“But this is not a game. We are dealing with national security here.”

“I thought we were dealing with monkeys.”

Ffelps touched a hand to his ear, tipped his head, frowned, nodded, frowned some more. For a moment I thought he was having a seizure, then I realized he was wearing a receiver in his ear.

He spoke into his lapel. “Seal the perimeter; I'm on my way.” He turned to the driver. “The monkey is on the move.”

I laughed. He gave me a questioning look.

“What you just said,” I said.

“Get out,” said Ffelps.