A Crack in the Sky (5 page)

When the Great Sickness came, sweeping across Europe, Asia, and Africa, killing millions, only InfiniCorp was strong and organized enough to protect its employees. There wasn’t time to design the perfect vaccine, but InfiniCorp scientists created a fragile concoction that had to be used within minutes of its manufacture. By the time the virus hit North America, InfiniCorp was ready. Soon after, the domed cities were completed, and
InfiniCorp’s employees were able to live in a protected space where climate-bred illnesses couldn’t reach them.

So of course Eli was proud.

Each and every person living in the domed cities owed his life to Grandfather!

Today InfiniCorp was still a family-owned business. After the Great Sickness, Grandfather was hailed as a hero; the petty complaints about one company holding so much power disappeared virtually overnight. Now everyone understood that the Papadopouloses were
leaders
. They ran things. They managed the domes that shielded everybody from the storms and heat. They cleaned up messes and did what they could about the Outsiders. And most important, they protected their employees when it mattered most. Not only had Eli’s family turned the whole disorganized nation into one ideal society, the most advanced and productive in human history, but they kept everybody safe and comfortable while they awaited the completion of the Great Cooldown. If it hadn’t been for Grandfather, the employees of InfiniCorp would have suffered the same fate as the rest of the world: if they’d survived the Great Sickness at all, they’d still be scrounging in the desert wilderness, trying to survive in the scorching heat. Grandfather said even if there were still any Outsiders alive on other continents, all the other nations of the world had been virtually destroyed.

Grandfather was the greatest hero ever. Everyone knew that.

*   *   *

Eli and Grandfather stood in Grandfather’s office gazing at the magnificent music box the old man kept on a block of carved marble at the center of the room. The size of a grand piano, the musical contraption was in the shape of a domed city, with little wooden houses and shopping centers, shiny towers, and jeweled streets, all under a protective dome of glass. It was one of a kind, an astonishing work of art. Eli had been drawn to it since he was a small boy.

Beside him, Grandfather leaned into the glass and spoke the code words that switched the machine on: “Good morning, folks. Time to wake up.” He winked at Eli. At once the model began to hum, and little lights came on in the houses and buildings.

Next Grandfather produced a wooden box containing hundreds of tiny metal keys in velvet casings. He waited for Eli to choose one. This was part of their ritual. Each key triggered the mechanism to play a different melody, but since the keys all looked pretty much the same, Eli was never sure which music his chosen key would unlock. He picked one at random and slipped it into the keyhole. The city came to life. Little people walked the sidewalks. Tiny transport pods moved along the streets and flew in circles in the sky. Eli pressed his face closer to the glass. The music was Bach’s Minuet in G. Its restrained, measured notes gave a stately feel to the mechanical movement.

“How’s that mongoose?” Grandfather asked. “Any unusual behavior yet?”

“I’m not sure. I think she’s smart—for an animal, I mean. But it’s hard to tell. Yesterday she ripped up one of my socks.”

He grunted thoughtfully. Eli could see the old man’s
reflection in the glass. Short and stocky with a wide nose, his sky blue eyes still maintained the good humor and vitality of his youth. Now, though, he was almost completely bald, with only a thin line of white hair over his ears. His face was etched with pockmarks, barely visible, which he shared with Eli’s parents and uncles and aunts, and all those old enough to have survived the Great Sickness. But it was Grandfather’s deep wrinkles that had always fascinated Eli. At seventy-nine, Grandfather was the oldest person he’d ever known. For the past few months Eli had been observing him, taking note of the slow, shuffling way he sometimes moved and how he occasionally wheezed when he breathed. It worried him a little. Despite his age, Grandfather had always seemed invincible, but now Eli realized the years were catching up with him.

After a minute or so, Grandfather stepped back from the music box and started in the direction of the checkers table. “Come on, then,” he said. “I believe the time has come for me to whip your butt again.”

Eli smiled. This routine was the same every time he visited. Before following, he leaned close to the glass and said, “Good night, folks. Time to go back to sleep.” Somewhere in the complex mechanism, a sensor detected that these were the shutdown words, the second part of the Master Key, as Grandfather called it. The music stopped, all the little pods flew back to their parking stations, and the people went home. The lights in the mechanical city went dark again.

It was as Eli stepped past the ancient books on Grandfather’s shelves that he remembered what he’d almost forgotten. “Oh! Grandfather, I have a riddle for you!”

“Let’s hear it.”

“Why is a raven like a writing desk?”

Grandfather didn’t answer, or maybe he wasn’t really listening, because he was busy setting the checkers pieces in their places. In any case, when he didn’t respond after a few seconds, Eli decided to give the answer.

“Two reasons,” he said. “First, because both can produce notes that are flat, and second, because you never put either of them with the wrong end in front.”

Grandfather looked up.

“It’s a strange riddle, I know,” Eli admitted. “In fact, I don’t understand the second answer at all. But it was in a book I found. A really interesting book. Here, I brought it for you to see.” He pulled the
Alice
book from his pocket and held it up, thrilled to show off his discovery.

For a moment Grandfather didn’t say a word. He stared at the cover, his bushy eyebrows pulling together. At last he said, “Where on earth did you find this, child?”

“I was wandering around and saw it under a pile of old junk.” Eli had planned this answer ahead of time. Even though he’d been dying to show Grandfather his find (Grandfather was the only other person Eli knew who cared about such things) and would never have lied to him, Eli also knew he had to be careful what he said about where the book had come from. It belonged to an Outsider, after all. If anyone found out, it was possible he’d be forbidden to keep it. Until now he hadn’t shown it to anyone, not even Sebastian.

Fortunately Grandfather didn’t press him for details.

“The second answer to the riddle makes sense only when you notice the way the author spelled the words,” he said,
looking up at Eli.
“Never
is printed n-e-v-a-r, which is raven backward. That’s the Mad Hatter’s riddle.”

“Ahh …” Understanding began to dawn on Eli, but only slowly. “So, you know this story already.”

“Oh yes. I know it well.” Grandfather took the book in his hands and flipped gingerly through the pages. “This is quite a discovery indeed. I didn’t think any more of these existed.”

“I’m about halfway through.”

Grandfather nodded, still examining the ancient thing. “I’m so glad you found it. Tell you what, Eli. Why don’t you let me keep it here in my office where it’ll be safe from harm? We don’t want this lying around. What if it gets lost again?”

Eli hesitated. He’d been so sure Grandfather would let him keep it. Now he wanted to kick himself. “Actually,” he said, “I was hoping to keep it with me. You don’t need to worry. I’ll take good care of it, I promise.”

The old man seemed to study him, taking a deep, wheezy breath as he did. “All right,” he said, his smile returning as he handed it back. “You found it, so I suppose it was meant to be yours. But keep it safe, child. It’s worth something.”

Eli had trouble fitting in with other children. Later that day, when his younger cousins drifted in groups to various play activities, one group called out, “Come play a dream game with us, Eli!” Another group, one that included Sebastian, called, “Eli, come watch the CloudNet spheres! We’re streaming
Kidz Gonna Zap Ya Dead!
and then
Babette, Time-Traveling Vampire Dancer!”

“No, thank you,” he answered.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like spending time with his cousins. He just wasn’t interested in CloudNet streams the way everyone else was. Instead he wandered off to a secluded corner with the
Alice
book. Last time it had been one of the old-style volumes from Grandfather’s shelf, a story titled
The Call of the Wild
, by Jack London, which turned out to be an adventure about a dog in a strange, frozen wilderness. Eli had always been intrigued by how different the world must have been years ago, back before the Warm Times and the domes. He pictured himself running through snow and sliding across sheets of ice. It was hard to imagine that such things had once been commonplace in Providence during the wintertime many years before the city was domed. Eventually two of Eli’s aunts had stumbled across him curled up on a sofa. When he’d looked up and noticed the aunts standing over him, he’d caught them giving each other what looked like secret glances of concern.

“My brothers and sisters and I are worried about that child,” he’d later overheard Uncle Hector complaining to Grandfather. “Have you noticed how much time he spends with those confounded paper antiques of yours? The boy has hardly any normal interests. Mark my words, we’re going to have trouble with that one.”

“Nonsense,” Grandfather had replied. “The child is no trouble at all.”

Uncle Hector hadn’t looked too convinced.

Today Eli found a quiet chair, big and red and comfortable, by a window in one of Grandfather’s sitting rooms. He opened the
Alice
book to the page where he’d left off. It was a
peculiar story about a little girl who wanders into fantastical worlds where playing cards and chess pieces walk around and animals talk. Throughout the book there were little poems, and these Eli especially enjoyed. He mouthed their sometimes outlandish words as he read them.

Much of it was nonsense, but it was glorious nonsense. The author played games with language and logic. Eli was mesmerized, and as he lost himself in the story, the world around him seemed to fade away.

“There you are,” interrupted a breathy voice. “I was wondering where you’d disappeared to. What have you got there?”

Eli looked up. Partway across the long, sparsely furnished sitting room stood his eldest cousin, Spider, Uncle Hector’s son, alone and half-hidden in shadows. Spider was twenty-four, pale, and painfully skinny, with hair that had turned prematurely white. Eli had always been wary of him. Years earlier, when Eli was six, Spider had brought his new InfiniZapper to one of Grandfather’s parties, snuck up on him, and zapped
him painfully in the back. Spider had then dragged his immobilized body down an empty hallway to a pantry at the back of one of the far kitchens and had left him there. Mother and Father had later found him trapped behind a giant bag of potatoes.

Since then Eli had steered clear of his most senior cousin.

“Well, well,” Spider said, squinting at the cover. “Where did you find this old relic? Oh, of course. It’s one of the old man’s.”

Eli didn’t correct him.

“Is it any good?”

“Yes …,” he answered guardedly. “What do you want, Spider?” Spider, of course, was just a nickname used within the family. His real name was Hector Papadopoulos III. Eli wasn’t sure why they called him Spider, but he’d heard a rumor it was because his cousin enjoyed pulling the legs off bugs.

Spider looked hurt. “There’s no need to be unfriendly. I’m just saying hello to my little cousin, that’s all.” He smiled. “You don’t mind if I have a quick look at it, do you?” Before Eli could answer, Spider snatched the book from his hand. He hummed to himself as he flipped through the pages. Soon he was shaking his head. “A rabbit with a watch? Frogs in wigs? Playing cards that talk?” He snorted. “Gibberish. Pathetic.”

Eli felt his blood rise.

“No wonder we don’t make these things anymore. Such a waste of time. I’ve been hearing that you’ve had your head in the clouds, Eli, but I had no idea the situation was quite this … 
dire.”
With another snort, he handed the book back. “I don’t understand what goes through Grandfather’s doddery old mind, sharing his artifacts with you. But then again, who understands the old geezer?”

Eli held the book tight in his lap. He didn’t answer.

Spider put his hands in his trouser pockets and turned toward the window. “Actually, Grandfather is the reason I was looking for you. I’ve been watching, Eli, and I’ve observed how much time you and he spend together. How informative it must be to receive so much special … 
attention
from the CEO.”

Eli didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t as if Spider didn’t have contact with Grandfather. Because he was the son of Uncle Hector, who would take Grandfather’s place as chief executive officer someday, everyone assumed Spider would be next in line after him. He already held the top position in the Department of Loyalty, an important branch of the Division of Freedom. Why Eli’s occasional time alone with Grandfather should matter to such an important person in the family, he couldn’t guess.

“What are you talking about?”

Spider spun around. “Oh, don’t think we haven’t all noticed the preference he’s always shown for you. But, as somebody who’ll be in charge of this company someday, I get uncomfortable when Grandfather closes his door and it seems there could be … 
secrets
shared. Secrets I’m not privy to. So I’ve been wondering: whatever plot he’s hatching in there, whatever special information he’s sharing with you, perhaps you would be willing to divulge it to me?”