The Twin Powers (5 page)

“That would be cheating,” said Eddie. “Tech Off! means no tech.”

I had a little cold spot in my gut. Nothing was going to work if the twins weren't on the same page.

“Grow up,” said Tom. “With the government and the aliens on our tails, we've got to be able to check out, hack in, see what's going on.”

“Eddie's right,” said Ronnie. “It would be like living a lie, telling people to Tech Off! while we're not.”

“Maybe you should go back to 1958,” said Tom, “and your rotary phones and TV antennas.”

“Let's vote,” said Alessa. “I think without our electronics we'd be at a disadvantage, maybe in danger. We wouldn't even know the weather. We could keep the devices out of sight. I vote yes to electronics, with Tom.”

Eddie and Ronnie mumbled, “No.” They looked defeated.

“Todd?” said Alessa, looking at me triumphantly. “It's two-two. You're the tiebreaker vote.”

I could feel the pimples on my forehead light up. She expected me to vote with her and Tom.

“This is a tough one.” I tried to look sorry. “Sorry. It would be wrong. I vote no tech.”

TOM

ON THE ROAD

2012

 

I
T
was hot and stuffy inside the covered wagon. I thought about those pioneer kids stuck in a wagon for months at a time, no tunes or video games. But at least they had chores—the big kids minding the little kids, gathering firewood and starting fires, watching out for Indians, taking care of the horses and oxen and dogs.

I didn't have anything to do. I was keeping out of sight so no one would see me and Eddie together and figure out we were twins. Grandpa had given me a crewcut like Eddie's. Why did I have to hide on my own planet? They said they could trust Eddie more in public, that I was too much of a loose cannon, but it still made me angry.

It was Britzky who'd spotted the covered wagon outside the restaurant in Nearmont and made the joke that if we were really no tech, we should travel the way Americans traveled 150 years ago. Eddie and Ronnie went nuts—they loved the idea. It reminded them of their favorite TV show,
Wagon Train.
And then Alessa took over. She went to the restaurant—the Westward Ho!—and the owners agreed to lend us the wagon for a couple of days as long as we kept their name on the sides. Nearmont Middle School said we could take a few days off if we kept journals as a special project and spoke at an assembly when we came back. Alessa had a store in town print “Tech Off!” on some black hoodies.

The year before, when Eddie and I had switched places, he was on the
Today
show talking about Tech Off! Day. Now Alessa called up the show and they invited us to come back, but since that had been Eddie being me and now I was me again . . . Argh! It confused even me.

Not that anybody asked me what I thought about all this. I felt as if I was on my own, so I stuffed my cloaking device, grease gun, climate-simulator rods, and modified smartphone into my violin case, along with my violin. The rest of them could have their stupid Tech Off! campaign if they wanted. Not me.

Grandpa attached a hitch to his SUV so he could tow the wagon. Eddie helped him while I stayed hidden in the house. Grandpa backed the wagon into the garage so Ronnie and I could sneak into it without the drone spotting us. We slept in the wagon the night before we left, to try it out. It sucked.

We took off at five thirty in the morning to beat the rush-hour traffic. First stop was Rockefeller Center and the
Today
show. Eddie and Alessa sat on the driver's bench of the wagon, going over what he would say on TV. Britzky sat with Grandpa in the SUV.

I was in the wagon with Ronnie. He also had to hide because how would we explain him? We didn't talk but I could tell he felt useless and uncomfortable too. It was boring and hard to breathe with all the canvas flaps closed. We should have stayed home.

Ronnie stared into space. If I looked at Ronnie, Buddy would growl. At least I didn't have to walk the mutt and pick up after him. Grandpa did that.

We parked near Rockefeller Center while Eddie went to do the
Today
show. Alessa and Britzky went with him. I just crouched in the wagon, making sure my hoodie was up in case someone peeked in.

It seemed like hours before we started moving again.

How you doin', bro?
Eddie sounded cheerful. He was happy being the star.

Groovy
. I put a sarcastic spin on the word but it went right over Eddie's head.

Neat. Wanna eat?

I wasn't hungry but it was something to do.
Sure.

Cool. There's a reporter who wants to talk to me. I'm going to ride with her for a while. See you later, alligator.

Britzky climbed into the wagon with white Styrofoam takeout boxes—sandwiches and chips—and bottles of water. Ronnie took his without a word. Buddy tore into his food even as Britzky was opening it.

“Hot in here,” said Britzky.

“The pioneers didn't believe in air conditioning,” I said.

“They were into conserving energy,” said Britzky. A typical not-funny Britzky joke. He was in a good mood.

He climbed out onto the bench where Alessa sat. The SUV started moving and the wagon bounced along behind it. The entire wooden frame shuddered every time we went over a bump or into a pothole. This thing hadn't been built for a twenty-first-century trip. We rattled over a bridge and headed along a river road. The air stank of gas fumes. The sandwich was dry in my mouth. I offered it to Buddy but he turned away. Only time in history a dog refused a sandwich. He really hated me. I drank the water. I tried to sleep.

We stopped at a gas station for a bathroom break. Before I climbed out, I lifted a little flap and peeked through one of the cutouts the pioneers must have used to check for enemies. When I went outside, my hood covered most of my face. There were people along the road waving at us. I would have liked to check out what they were saying about us online, but I didn't want Ronnie to know I had my gear along.

We stopped for the night in the parking lot of a Big-Mart outside Trenton, the capital of New Jersey. Through the flap, I saw a caravan pull in behind us. There were a couple of TV trucks, an ambulance, a half-dozen SUVs, and two black vans sprouting satellite antennas from the roof.

Alessa and Britzky climbed back into the wagon.

“This is so cool,” said Alessa. “We just got a call from the governor inviting us to visit him. He's going to proclaim it Tech Off! Week!”

“How did you get a call?” I asked.

She looked embarrassed. “Well, um, we decided we could have one cell, just for travel arrangements and emergencies.”

“You have it?” I asked.

“Agent Brown is holding it.”

“Agent Brown?”

“The federal-agent guy,” said Britzky. “Eddie's bodyguard.”

“I thought you were his bodyguard,” I said.

Britzky shook his head. “They said a thirteen-year-old kid couldn't do the job.”

“Where's Eddie now?” I said.

“He's in a hotel,” said Britzky.

“For security reasons,” said Alessa.

“What's that mean?” I said. I was getting annoyed. Everybody knew more about what was going on than I did.

Alessa said, “Agent Brown said there had been threats.”

“What kind of threats?” said Ronnie. We all turned around, surprised. We'd almost forgotten he was there.

“Agent Brown wouldn't tell us,” said Alessa.

“I think he's lying,” said Britzky. “I think it's all a government plot to get at the aliens through us. To use us as bait, the way the aliens used us to get your dad.”

“Maybe you're paranoid,” I said, just so he wouldn't think he knew everything. But maybe he was right. What a mess. I felt sick to my stomach. I had to get out of the wagon and away from all of them. “No one's threatening
me,
” I said. I hoped I didn't sound as if I was jealous.

I pulled up my hoodie, grabbed my violin case, climbed over Ronnie and Buddy, and jumped off the back of the wagon.

“Where are you going?” said Britzky.

“Anywhere else,” I said.

TOM

ON THE ROAD

2012

 

I
T
was dark but the Big-Mart parking lot was blazing with light. There were floodlights on poles and the glow of lamps, TVs, and laptops from inside wide-bodied trailers. Kids raced around a playground while their families grilled meat and chicken. Smelled great. Old people sat on lawn chairs, drinking. A geezer noticed my Tech Off! hoodie and waved me over. “You from that wagon?”

Uh-oh.
What if he wondered why I looked so much like Eddie? I nodded my head and worked deeper into the hoodie.

He said, “You know Tom?”

“We're real close,” I said.

“Some piece of work, that kid. Saw him on TV. Just what we need, people talking face-to-face, no media telling us what to think, no politicians taking our money and telling us what to do.”

“Groovy,” I said, sarcastically.

“Groovy!” The old man howled with laughter. He turned to his wife at the grill. “You hear that, Susan? They're still saying that.” He turned back to me. “Have a burger with us?”

“Thanks. I just ate.” The food smelled good but I kept walking. I was still too angry to trust myself not to say the wrong thing. Eddie was relaxing in a hotel while I was stuck in a canvas cage with his brain-dead sidekick and his ratty dog.

Calm down, Tom,
I told myself
.
I was walking behind an old man limping as he dragged a shopping cart, so I imitated his gait. I used to mime-walk on the street in the city just for fun, but I hadn't done it in a long time. The old man turned and said, “Have that leg looked at, sonny—you don't want to end up like me.”

I almost felt bad.
No, Tom, you
are
bad,
I reminded myself. I pulled the violin case closer. As soon as I found a safe place, I'd check my devices.

I circled the huge parking lot, walking fast enough to drain off some of my mood. More people offered me food. I took a soda from a family that had a kid my age. He was staring at me. Maybe he recognized me. Kids have better eyesight than old people. I decided to try to get into his mind, see what my powers could do. I concentrated hard, imagining a straw drilling from my head into his, then sucking out thoughts. I heard—imagined?—him thinking,
He looks like he plays D&D.

I wondered if I could put a thought into his head.

I sent back a message:
Prepare to die, gnoll. I am the prince of drows.

The kid went bug-eyed and hopped back. I had a laugh and then I thought,
Is this how you're going to use your powers, Tom?

No.
I had a better idea. I narrowed my eyesight into lasers and looked through the wall of an RV. It took everything I had to penetrate the metal skin.

Bingo!

A fat guy was reading a fishing magazine on the toilet.

Way to save the Earths, Tom.

I found a safe place behind the Big-Mart, a loading platform with just enough light. My violin and bow were tucked into their protective covers, surrounded by lumpy cases. I opened the case where I had packed my cell phone.

Inside was a tin box of hard candies with a note in Grandpa's handwriting:
Enjoy the treats and use your powers.

I opened the other cases. They contained extra socks, little cans of juice, more candy. None of the devices I had packed were in the violin case.

I was so mad, I thought the top of my head would pop off. My eyeballs sizzled. What right did Grandpa have to steal my stuff? I heard growling. It was me.

I ran back to Grandpa's SUV. It was empty and locked.

I stood there for a long time, waiting to calm down. I didn't remember ever being so angry.

Finally, I climbed into the wagon. Alessa and Britzky were in their sleeping bags, snoring. I tapped into their brains. They were dreaming. Alessa was dreaming colors, bright floating balloons. Britzky was dreaming shapes, mostly dark rectangles. I couldn't figure out what was going on in Buddy's head, all noise and movement. Ronnie was the toughest to break into. I could feel walls around his thoughts. Finally I heard something:
Gotta get out of here.

Good riddance,
I thought.
Who wants you, creep?

Then I almost felt bad. Ronnie might be a creepy kid, but that didn't mean he couldn't feel lost and out of it too.

It took me a while to fall asleep. I thought I heard movement in the night, but I ignored it.

Alessa woke me up at dawn.

“What's happening?” I said.

“Ronnie's gone.”

EDDIE

TRENTON, N.J.

2012

 

I
FELT
huge. My head was a balloon bobbing above the world. My arms were long enough to hug the entire audience.
If only Dad could see me now.
Hundreds of faces turned up to me, mouths open, cheering.

Some fat guy in a suit, maybe the governor, was introducing me.

“. . . too young to vote but not to lead America: Tom Canty.”

There was an explosion of cheering.

I was worried about what to say, but the words just came out of me.

“I see lots of you are holding up your phones and cameras to take pictures, and that's groovy. For now. But tomorrow starts Tech Off! Week, seven days to remember how we used to talk face-to-face and work out problems. Now we'll see if we can still do it before the problems get too big. So tomorrow—no phones, tablets, laptops, not even TV! Can you do it?”

The crowd roared back, “YES!”

Someone took the microphone. He introduced a lady in a suit, who announced that her company was handing out free drinks and chips, brand-new products called Tech Off! Treats in honor of the tour.