* * * * *
When I walked out the door Monday morning Gen met me on the porch.
I knew before asking. “Any sign of George?”
She shook her head. “I thought when Des got the interview that it meant George was still around, but I can’t find a trace of him. Maybe he doesn’t exist anymore.”
“Probably just hiding out and setting up lots of security measures. They can’t get rid of him that easy.”
“Hope not.”
The weekend had taken the edge off the teasing frenzy at school. Even Doug and Josh were no longer putting forth their best efforts.
With nervous anticipation I entered Bertram's class. Doug made an attempt at heckling, but I only caught part of his comment. My thoughts were focused on Bertram. George had escaped him, but could he escape George? Would it change his view of possibilities?
“In our last class we used logical thinking to disprove the probability of George Roge’s existence,” Bertram said. “While we need facts to prove theories, scientists also have to stretch beyond known facts in order to make new discoveries. They have to ask, what if?”
He looked at Gen and his eyes crinkled with what I hoped was a smile. “What if a program became so sophisticated that it could modify itself and simulate intelligence and even personality?”
Elroy’s hand shot up. “Like a humanoid robot,” he said. “Or…an android.”
Doug snickered. “That’s stupid.”
“Just movie hype,” Josh said.
“Let’s explore the possibilities,” Bertram said.
A lively discussion took off. Several kids enthusiastically joined forces with Elroy. Their arguments even showed attempts at logic. Support for Doug and Josh, however, came from those with a strong talent for cynical jabs.
I was proud of Gen. She managed to stay out of the fray. Keeping quiet turned out to be a good plan, and we stuck to it the rest of the day. It was refreshing not to be the center of attention. When school ended we were swept out the door with the crowd. All over the schoolyard kids gathered in tight little clusters.
“They’re all discussing George,” she said.
I nodded. “All except those two in the bleachers.”
“Who are they?” she said.
We skirted around the groups and crossed the yard. When we got closer I stopped. “I think that’s Mr. Bertram and Ms. Kendrick.”
“Together?” Gen sounded stunned.
“He’s wearing a hat. A fedora,” I said.
Mr. Bertram looked our way. I couldn’t see his expression, but he tipped his hat slightly in our direction. Ms. Kendrick gave us a small wave, and they turned back to their conversation.
“Well, that’s interesting,” Gen said.
During the walk home it was hard not to talk about Bertram and Ms. Kendrick. But the conversation kept swinging back to wondering what had happened to George.
We stopped outside Gen's house. She said, “I’ll text you if I find anything that might lead to George.”
“Okay, see you tomorrow.”
I grabbed the mail and went inside my house. Noise streamed from the kitchen. A mixture of sweet aromas taunted me. I paused in the doorway. Cautiously I looked in. My backpack fell to the floor followed by my coat. The kitchen had been transformed into a research laboratory.
Orderly rows of naked cupcakes crowded the table. They were ringed by bowls containing icing tinted in pink, yellow, green, blue, orange, and lavender. A selection of sprinkles, nuts, seeds, fruit, coconut, crumbled cookies, and even toasted mini marshmallows waited to be added as toppings.
Des looked up from the cupcake she was decorating. She flashed me a dazzling smile before turning back to her creations.
“Quite the display, isn’t it?” Mom asked. “Desiree is perfecting her newest recipe and we’ve been recruited as helpers. I’ve been given the important task of spreading the base layer of icing.”
Nate made notations on a clipboard as Desiree called out ingredients and measurements.
“What’s your job, Dad?”
A thin trace of blue icing smudged his lip. He held up an empty wrapper. “Official taster.”
For a moment he looked a lot like George. I pushed the thought out of my mind. “I brought in the mail,” I said holding it up and looking around.
With a sticky hand, Dad took the pile and leafed through the letters. I reached for a light brown cupcake decorated with glittering white frosting and topped with a delicate yellow sugar leaf.
“No!” They all yelled together.
I jerked my hand back as if I’d narrowly escaped having my fingers bit off.
Nate gestured with the clipboard toward the counter. It was a graveyard of broken and dismembered cupcakes. “Eat those,” he said.
“They look like something already has,” I said.
“Not to worry,” Nate said. “We used a knife to slice off bites. All very sanitary.”
I went to the counter for a closer look. It must have been a very dull knife. There were crumbs everywhere. I chose a piece that looked relatively unmauled. Once I tasted it, the rest of the crumbs looked amazingly appetizing.
I was on my fifth sample when Dad yelled. Scattering crumbs on the floor, I spun around thinking I had eaten forbidden fruit.
Mom groaned. “Oh dear. I’ve messed this one up.”
Dad looked up from the letter he was reading. I swallowed.
Des looked worried. “What is it? What’s wrong? Was something in the cake that shouldn’t have been?”
Dad waved the letter. “It’s an offer.”
“For what?” Mom asked.
“My book. It’s from a publisher.”
Nate took the letter and read it over. “Looks legit. What’s this reference to advertising?”
“Advertising?” Mom said.
Nate read out loud. “Dear Mr. Monroe. We are in receipt of your recent submission and are very interested in the story of Jacques’ adventure. We would like to discuss the possibility of publishing your book and would consider paying you an advance. Due to the amount of Internet advertising you already have in place, we feel it is important you contact us at your earliest convenience.”
I met Nate’s eyes. “George,” we said together.
“It has to be George,” I said. “All his videos have Jack in them. I have to tell Gen.”
Grabbing a plate, I eyed the counter of cupcake carnage. With a spoon I scooped up some of the chunks that had sustained less damage. Ignoring the excited conversation, I snatched up my coat and ran outside.
My phone buzzed with an incoming text. With the plate in one hand and my coat in the other, there was no way to check it.
I reached Gen's house, and my phone rang. I kicked the door expecting her to yank it open.
It opened, but it wasn’t Gen. A skinny man in jeans and a sweatshirt scowled down at me. His scruffy gray beard made him look like an annoyed schnauzer. Gen's dad!
I stood staring while my phone continued to ring from my pocket.
“Guenivere!” He barked. Immediately my phone stopped ringing. “Cody’s here.”
I jumped at the use of my name. His eyes moved from my face to the plate.
“That looks interesting. Shook them up a bit on the way over?” He pulled the plate from my grasp and popped one of the larger pieces into his mouth.
Gen looked around him and gave me a wink.
“Cody brought some…” he looked at the plate.
“Cupcakes,” I said.
“Really? I wouldn’t have guessed that. But they are tasty.” We followed him to the living room. He disappeared into the recliner. I watched entranced as his feet appeared on the footrest. His hand emerged to set the plate on the end table. Then the bottom shelf caught my attention. There was my wookie, nestled among the newspapers with its legs stretched out and feet propped up by a magazine. It appeared to be watching television with him.
Gen gave me an impatient nudge. “Didn’
t you get my text?”
I shook my head. “I had my hands full. I couldn’t get to the phone.”
“Full of what?”
“Desiree’s cupcakes. Your dad took the plate.”
“That’s your mom’s plate all right, but it’s empty.” She grinned. “There’s cookies in the kitchen. Not as good as Desiree’s, but I want to show you what I found.”
I followed her into the kitchen. While I munched on store bought cookies, she pulled up a page on her cell phone.
She scooted her chair close to mine and propped the phone against a salt shaker. “It’s George’s new website,” she said softly.
The screen showed a sandy beach with blue water. Palm trees surrounded a shack on the beach with a sign on the door that read Knock Gently.
She tapped on the door. It swung open. George stuck his head outside. He had traded in his fedora for a big white Panama hat and sunglasses. He waved us inside.
It looked like a high tech control center with computer equipment and two large screens covering the walls. One showed a jungle scene. The other was a map of South America with a flashing blue dot in the Andes Mountains.
George sat behind a desk littered with books. He tossed a banana peel into an overflowing wastebasket.
“Excuse the mess. We’ve just moved in to our new digs.” He swept his hand to take in the room. “Pretty nice, huh? Now we can get down to business. Start Examining possibilities, Generating reports, and getting Organized. Jack is off doing Research.”
He leaned forward and winked. “Jack is searching for his colleague Jill. We have reason to believe she's in the Andes.” He nodded toward the blinking blue light. “This will be a real test of Jack’s abilities. If he can find her, we plan to offer her a partnership in our little company.
“Now if you have news of mythical importance, we are prepared to Examine it. Our team has the ability to Generate legendary interest in your topic. We can Organize a fantastical plan to Research your evidence. Are you ready for the adventure?”
He leaned back and laced his fingers behind his head. “The public will be on the edge of their seats.” He shrugged. “It’s what we do.”
Gen’s eyes sparkled and a smile tugged at her mouth. I knew that look. She was already planning a new assignment for George.
# # #
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Steven & Margaret
Discover other titles by
Steven Larson and Margaret Larson:
Fantasy books
A Sprinkling of Thought Dust
Murky Manor
Cave of Discovery
Worlds Within
The World Beyond the Door
&
A collection of writings
Thoughts on the Wind
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