Before Tomorrowland (14 page)

“To what do we owe the pleasure?” asked Einstein, scratching the back of his head and making an even wilder display of his hair.

“Oh, the usual. Just trying to keep you from getting murdered,” she said, shutting the windows with firm slams. “Also, do you have any sugar? Our financier wants me to bake him
a pie.”

“It’s Rotwang who’s behind these attacks, isn’t it?” asked Szilard.

Hearing the name made Earhart nauseous all over again. Werner Rotwang—the former member of Plus Ultra, the former co-chair of the robotics committee and chairman of the Blue Sky unit, a
special division devoted to experimental research. He had abused the freedom afforded to him to make something much more abominable than wire transfer. He had exploited a dying boy as a test
subject: Henry Stevens, a good kid, whose dad worked as lead mechanic in the experimental aircraft division. Earhart didn’t really understand what Rotwang had tried to do to him. Something
about relocating Henry’s consciousness into a box, which would then be put into a robot body.

It didn’t work. Earhart found Henry’s body, charred from the chest down, lying across a gurney in Rotwang’s lab. The doctor himself had vanished. For the next six months, Plus
Ultra searched for Rotwang, to no avail. But there were rumors. The latest intelligence suggested he’d gone to work for another German lunatic, a soldier of murky repute named Lohman. If that
was true, she hoped Rotwang was personally enjoying the sadistic treatment that made Lohman legendary.

Szilard wrung his hands. “I told you, Einstein, it was only a matter of time. We must weaponize the atom bomb before the Nazis climbs our walls!”

“No indication of Nazi involvement as yet,” said Earhart. She unzipped the duffel bag and began removing the equipment. Video cameras, a control panel, and tools.

Szilard didn’t hear her. He slicked his hair back with both hands and started ranting at Einstein again: “We never should have brought Rotwang into the fold. Who knows what he could
be telling the Nazis! If that little demon hands them even one bit of our atomic research?
Poof!
Our world plunges into chaos and disorder!”

Einstein shook his head, mostly at the sight of Earhart desecrating his beach sanctuary with the security system. “He was no physicist. If he interested himself in our old atomic work, I
doubt he understood it...” Einstein drifted off as he caught sight of something inside Earhart’s bag that made him go pale: a gun.

“I won’t have weapons in this house, Amelia.”

This was the conversation that Earhart had feared. Aside from the EMP weapons Plus Ultra designed for the robot uprising, the society was a weapons-free organization. No one held that line
harder than Einstein. “Professor,” she said, “I have no idea who or what is attacking us. I only know they don’t play nice, and they’re very, very serious. You have to
defend yourself. We can’t afford to lose you.”

Einstein’s eyes flashed with anger. “My life is not more precious than anyone else’s, Amelia! I’m not God!” He frowned at Szilard. “Though no one cares for
that argument lately.”

“I didn’t say you were God! I only say God gives you a
choice
, a difficult choice—” Szilard started.

“Enough,” said Einstein. He dropped into a chair by the front door and waved at Earhart with a tired hand. “Do what you need to do.” Earhart got to work installing the
security system.

“We worked so long to get here, to share our work with everyone,” said Einstein. “Can we even stop now? Faustus has probably distributed the books—”

“Tesla pulled the Faustus units off the street before they could cull the whole sample,” said Earhart. “I think we only have half a dozen comics in circulation. None of the
glasses have been activated. If they are, we can track them immediately and detain the readers if need be.”

For a while, the only sounds were Earhart screwing in camera mounts and the flapping of hideous drapes.

“Is Tesla calling off the reveal?” asked Einstein.

“I don’t know,” said Earhart. “He wants to know what
you
think.”

She’d never seen Einstein move so fast as when he bolted out of that chair. “
Mein
Gott!
I am not going to be responsible for more lies and stalled progress, any more
than I will be responsible for a bomb to kill thousands, perhaps millions of people! It cannot all be on me!” He stamped his bare feet up to Earhart. “Tell Tesla to call an emergency
meeting.”

“All due respect, I don’t think getting you all in one place—”

Einstein didn’t back down. “This is not my decision to make, Amelia, or yours. We must act as a united front, or we are lost already.”

“I’ll make you a deal,” said Earhart. She turned away from him and went to the bag. “You take the gun, I’ll call your damn meeting.”

“I won’t kill anyone, Amelia.”

“Then aim for the knees,” she said. She hoped he would smile. He didn’t.

“Give it to Szilard,” said Einstein. “He likes weapons.”

Szilard protested, and Earhart braced herself for another round of argument. Then her MFD buzzed.
Saved by the bell
. She whipped it out of her flight jacket. “Earhart
here.”

The face of a Faustus unit appeared on the screen. “Unit A-2, reporting from the New Yorker. Ms. Earhart, I believe we’ve found whom you’re seeking.”

Earhart looked to Einstein and Szilard. Something like relief passed over their faces. “Where is he?”

“He’s currently in the lobby of the hotel,” said the robot. “And he’s not alone.”

L
EE CHASED
his mom out to the sidewalk in front of Sloane House. She was giddy and frantic, laughing about what it could
all mean. It was almost like Lee wasn’t there, she was so absorbed. The moment her feet hit the concrete and she lifted the glasses to her face, she let out another happy cry.

“It’s all...it’s just magnificent,” she said. Lee saw tears running down from behind the glasses. All he could think was that she was fine yesterday. Their doctor told
him about the warning signs of late stage brain cancer. Decreased appetite. Mood swings. Delusions. Seeing things. Lee felt his throat tighten again. She held the glasses tight on her head, like
they might jump off and take the scenery with them. “It’s like everything I ever read about, dreamed about, it’s just all—”

“What do you see, Mom?” He felt tears welling up. He didn’t try to hide them, he just kept his eyes on her. Maybe this was how life would be for the remainder. Maybe he’d
spend the rest of her months, weeks, or days allowing her fantasies to play out. Allowing her that happiness. What else could he do?

Before she could answer him, a voice came through the air and they both spun, searching for the speaker. “Greetings, fellow traveler and visionary,” said the voice. He searched his
mom’s face, and once more, Lee’s reality did a full revolution.

“It’s the glasses!” he said. There was a little grille on the earpiece.

The voice continued: “...to witness the revelation of our century. A vision of what could be much closer than you realize, both for our species’ progress and the world in which we
live. The world according to Plus Ultra!”

“Is that the guy who does The Shadow on the radio?” asked Lee.

“Orson Welles! Yes!”

“Your task, should you choose to pursue it,” said Mr. Welles, “is to walk through the city and observe the wonders of our technology and its potential applications. You will
see unbelievable things, but rest assured, all this is possible. You may even help it come to pass.” Lee and his mom locked eyes and listened closely to the narration. She wasn’t crazy,
thank God. There
was
something amazing behind those glasses. But his relief just led to a different confusion.

“Why can’t I see it?” he asked. “I don’t know why I can’t see—” He reached for the glasses, but his mom held up a hand and shushed him.

Welles continued: “Your destination, after you tour to your satisfaction, is the New Yorker Hotel. There, we await you with further instructions and no shortage of wonders.”

Lee and Clara walked down the sidewalk as one creature, heads together so Lee could hear. He didn’t even think about how awkward they must have looked. When the narration paused, Clara
tried to give Lee a turn with the glasses, but he still couldn’t see anything. She shook her head in disbelief and snatched them back.

“See the post office?” she asked. “It’s a huge skyscraper, maybe some sort of—”

Welles cut her off with his own canned explanation. “The building before you is no longer a post office, but a public-sector delivery building where thousands of mail clerks distribute
their parcels via pneumatic tube technology. Teleportation rates are extra, of course. Note the in-building zoological site, allowing employees to take lunch with an invigorating safari.”

They continued down Thirty-Fourth Street, past other transformations. Welles gave an overview, and Clara filled in the rest. Penn Station was a series of ramps to circular portals, each with
“wild places” on the other side. The sidewalks were all punched through by trees and bushes. A few robot gardeners harvested their fruit and handed it out to people passing by. Floating
sidewalks crisscrossed above, just under the fly zone where citizens flew air vehicles and jet packs inside holographic traffic guides.

By the time they reached the Empire State Building, Lee’s frustration at being left out hit a peak. “Tesla Tower!” exclaimed Welles. “A super-power-plant transmitting
wireless energy across the world.”

“It’s huge!” said Clara. “Twice as tall as the Empire State Building! At the top it has this giant rounded cage. And there’s a cloud around it and bolts of
energy—”

“Okay, Mom,” Lee cut in, “we need to get you something to eat. I get that this is amazing and everything, but we’ve been walking around for two hours.”

“Go ahead and find something for yourself,” she said, turning around in a circle to take in all the sights. “I’m fine.”

Lee snapped, “There’s nothing happening, Mom. It’s just a weird trick. Just take them off for a minute.”

“Stop,” she said, brushing him away. “He’s wrapping it up!”

Mr. Welles’s voice came through again and said, “This concludes our augmented city tour. We hope you are inspired and delighted enough to join us for the next phase of your
adventure, beginning at the New Yorker Hotel at 481 Eighth Avenue. We look forward to seeing you there, fellow visionary.”

Lee rolled his eyes at those last words as Clara took off the glasses. He looked down the street, not making eye contact with her. “What’s the matter?” she asked.
“Listen, I don’t know why you can’t see it—”

“I don’t care,” he lied. “I just want to follow our plan. Food, medication, and rest, okay? Whatever’s in those isn’t going to keep you alive.” It just
slipped out. He looked at her, and he saw her shutting down. “That’s not what I meant.”

“No,” she said, “that’s fine.” She tucked the glasses into her purse.

“I mean, it’s not real,” he continued, trying to recover.

“I know. It’s all right, I know what you meant. Maybe they can get you a pair that works at the New Yorker. Let’s go get something to eat.” She waited. “Go, lead
on.”

They ate at a little coffee shop, mostly in silence. Clara hardly touched her food. She drew in her sketchbook instead. Lee tried to think of how to fix what he’d said, but he
couldn’t. After they paid, they didn’t even talk about where they were going; Lee knew she’d want to get to the New Yorker Hotel as soon as possible. He’d let her do that,
he thought, then maybe they’d go back to Sloane House and he’d break the news to her about going home early. Hopefully the grand finale of whatever this virtual tour thing was would
knock her socks off and she’d be content to leave.

Walking to the New Yorker Hotel, she finally tried to lighten the mood.

“I bet you’ll become a doctor,” she said. “That bedside manner alone should get you in the door.”

“That’s not funny,” said Lee.

“Oh, sorry. I’ll just be over here, clinging to life.” A young couple walked by. “My son’s going to be a doctor. I’m so proud of him,” she said, patting
him on the shoulder.

“Stop,” said Lee, a smile creeping on his face. At least she seemed to be in good spirits.

The New Yorker was the fanciest place Lee had ever seen. The lobby was all polished marble with high ceilings and a big, stylish chandelier in the center. He bet it cost more to stay a night
there than his dad sent home in a month. There weren’t any signs of an event that he could see, though, and he started to hope they were in the wrong place. His clothes felt cheap and baggy
on him.

“Hello, fellow visionary!” said a bellhop. He was talking to Lee’s mom. He hadn’t seen anyone else greeted that way; then he realized she was wearing the glasses again.
He also thought the bellhop looked a whole lot like Faustus, but he put the idea out of his mind. He had enough to deal with already.

“Hello!” Clara replied. “We’re on the tour.”

“Of course,” the bellhop replied, pointing down the lobby. “The elevator’s there. You want room 3227. Enjoy!”

“Do you know what all this is about?” asked Lee.