Infinity Lost (6 page)

“Wow. It’s so hard to imagine him doing father and daughter stuff like that, y’know, normal dad-type stuff,” Bit says, gazing thoughtfully out the window.

“I know. Hard to believe, right?” I say the words with the same thinly veiled sarcastic tone as before. That seems to go right over her head as well.

Professor Francis is at his wits’ end. People are chattering, texting madly, and snapping pictures out the windows. Miss Cole is just sitting there, smiling like an idiot, so she’s no help at all. Brody Sharp begins chanting, “Move that bus, move that bus!” which, since we’re already parked, makes no sense at all, but it isn’t very long before others join in. It’s ridiculous.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Ryan Forrester, who until now was quietly reading, lean over the aisle toward Margaux. She leans toward him, flicking her silky blonde hair and beaming her perfect white teeth, her huge, pale-blue eyes flashing beneath her fluttering eyelids. Millie strokes her auburn hair behind her ear, raises one eyebrow, and gives a knowing look to Miss Cole, who smiles back before promptly shifting her gaze hungrily to Ryan’s lips.

I think I’m gonna puke.

Brent Fairchild spots the exchange and sits up in his seat like a meerkat. That is his kinda-girlfriend Ryan’s talking to, after all. Ryan says something to Margaux that I can’t hear above the chatter, and she nods. Suddenly she stands and shouts, “Everybody shut up!” The bus immediately goes silent.

I hate her so much.

Not only for the fact that she thinks she’s the queen bee of this school, but also, and especially, because everyone else seems to think so, too. Apparently even Ryan Forrester. I tell myself that it shouldn’t bother me, but it really does. I’m halfway through a thought about how stupid he must be when he catches me looking at him. He smiles a crooked smile and holds our connection for that millisecond longer than necessary, that minuscule amount of time that, in an instant, makes you both realize that it’s more than just a look. My eyes widen, my stomach tightens, and I quickly turn away. Totally busted. I quickly flump back against the seat.

Now that everyone’s quiet, a look of relief washes over Professor Francis. With a trembling hand, he mops his brow with his handkerchief. “Thank you, Miss Pilfrey. Now that I have your attention, I’d like to lay down a few ground rules for the tour today.”

There’s a low groan.

“As you obviously all know, today’s reward field trip will take place at the main research and development facility of Blackstone Technologies, the largest advanced-technology company in the world.”

“Hells yeah!” Dean McCarthy shouts from the back.

Professor Francis throws a frown in his direction. “From your computers, to your phones, to food production, to military hardware and weather stabilization, Blackstone Technologies, and of course its founder, Dr. Richard Blackstone, is responsible for the innovations that make the lives we live today possible. Please remember that you are extremely lucky to be here. You are the first school students to ever be permitted beyond the hallowed doors of Blackstone Technologies.”

A murmur of excitement rolls through the bus and the Professor waves a hand to quiet us. “Please listen and be polite, do not stray away from the tour guide, raise your hands if you have any questions for them, and most important of all, do not touch anything. Even some of
your
parents wouldn’t be able to afford
that
lawsuit.”

Even though it’s obvious that the Professor is joking, some kids look back at Bit from the corners of their eyes. Only at this school would the poor kid in class be a girl whose mom is only worth two-and-a-half billion dollars.

“OK then. We’ve been told that the tour will begin at ten sharp, and then we’ll stop for a spot of lunch in the staff cafeteria at one o’clock, and continue the tour after that. We’ll be back on the bus by four and on the jet by five. Behave yourselves and have an amazing day.” Professor Francis turns and trots enthusiastically down the steps of the bus.

There are a couple of whoops and “yeahs” as everyone finally begins scrambling off the bus and into the tree-lined courtyard outside. Beyond the circular courtyard, a wide concrete path stretches out the length of a football field to a huge, charcoal-gray, rectangular stone arch in the distance. Even from here, I can see the word “Blackstone” emblazoned across the arch in big black, gold-edged letters. In the center above it is the company logo, a silver circle with a large black diamond shape inside it. My hand automatically goes to my mother’s pendant, pinching it between my fingers beneath my blouse.

Just beyond the arch, almost filling the sky, is the huge, smooth, black glass dome we saw when we were driving in. It has to be at least sixty stories high. It makes for a very imposing sight, most likely designed to intimidate. It definitely serves its purpose.

“Everyone follow me, please, we’re meeting our guide at the door,” says Professor Francis. There’s excited chatter as he leads the group down the path toward the stone arch and massive dome.

“Do you think your fath . . . I mean, do you think Dr. Blackstone is here today, Finn?” whispers Bit.

“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “People say he hardly ever leaves, so . . . maybe?”

I am really hoping to see my father today, of course, but my hopes aren’t high. He’s spent almost my entire life avoiding me, and a part of me can’t help but feel, whether he’s here or not, this day won’t be any different.

Margaux pushes past, bumping me sideways with her shoulder. “Whoops,” she says, flicking her hair in my face. “Didn’t see you there.” She struts ahead of us, giggling with Millie as Miss Cole follows close behind them.

We all walk under the stone arch to the side of the dome. It seems so much bigger than it appeared from the bus. Its curved side reaches up and far away into the sky, but it’s so huge that the wall beside us looks perfectly straight and vertical. It’s as smooth and black as volcanic glass, and seems to be made of one single piece. We stand in front of it in the place where you would expect a door should be, but there simply isn’t one. There aren’t any joins or hinges or handles anywhere to be seen.

Professor Francis looks at his watch. “Ten o’clock exactly. There should be someone here to meet us.”

“Maybe you got the day wrong, Prof!” Dean McCarthy yells from the back of the group.

Brody Sharp walks forward and knocks on the side of the gigantic, black hemisphere. “Hellooo? Anybody dome?”

“Now, now, quiet down, please,” Professor Francis says in an attempt to quash the laughter.

It’s then that I notice the faint hissing sound. Karla Bassano is the first one to see where it’s coming from. She points, clapping her hands excitedly, her shiny curls bouncing up and down as she does tiny jumps on the spot. “There! Look!” she screeches.

Everyone’s eyes look where she’s pointing, scanning the sides of the dome for whatever it is that she’s spotted.

“There, inside, on the ground!” she screeches again. “That little star!”

Sure enough, through the glass on the inside of the dome, there’s a small twinkling point of light. It really does look just like a single star sitting on the ground against an empty, pitch-black night sky. Everybody runs forward to see it, all of us pressing our noses to the cold black glass, cupping our hands around our eyes. Some kids immediately begin taking video with their phones.

It gets brighter and brighter and bigger and bigger until it’s a blue-white globe the size of a basketball. After a few seconds it gently begins to rise, floating up in a straight line from the ground. It’s impossible to judge how far inside the dome the ball of light is; we can see it through the glass as if the wall is transparent, but the ball of light is still somehow inexplicably surrounded with an impenetrable darkness. We crane our necks as the glowing sphere slowly drifts upward. Up and up it goes, until eventually it reaches the inside surface high in the dome. It hovers there for a few seconds—then, in a blink, splits into four. Each smaller ball shoots off in its own direction, leaving thick trails of white light behind like swathes of luminous paint, all the way down the giant dark curve and back to the ground. The glowing white beams begin rotating sideways, painting the whole inside of the gigantic dome pure white. There’s a bright flash and the brilliant white veneer suddenly drops from the crown of the dome, like a five-hundred-foot-high curtain. It gracefully cascades down the sides of the massive structure in silent billows before vanishing into the ground like mist.

In the minute from the first moment Karla saw the star until now, the entire sixty-story-high curve has turned crystal-clear transparent.

We all stand there in wide-eyed amazement. The sight that greets us is breathtaking, but at the same time doesn’t quite make sense. Through the glass of the dome, filling the entire space, I see what can only be described as a lush, green, thriving, tropical rainforest. It’s glaringly plain to see that this is so much more than just a fancy greenhouse filled with foreign plants. Oh no. This is a flourishing, steaming, moving, living ecosystem, complete in every way. It’s as if a giant hand had reached down from the sky, scooped an immense circle of jungle from the depths of the Amazon, and inexplicably placed it here in pristine perfection, more than six thousand miles from where it should exist. Towering trees wrapped in sinewy tendrils of ivy jut skyward from thick, green, tangled undergrowth. There are flashes of vibrant color from the plumage of exotic birds as they flit back and forth in the high branches. A large lizard of some kind sleepily watches us from a big flat rock as spider monkeys playfully chase each other through the leaves overhead. A stream winds its way through the thicket, lazily trickling over stones as it flows. A wild boar and two piglets stand at its edge, nuzzling the water as a huge, mottled python slowly coils its thick body down a mass of twisted vines. It’s the most wondrous thing I’ve ever seen.

I look around at the group and everyone seems to be just as awestruck as I am, their mouths agape at the incredible beauty that has just been unveiled before us.

My sudden and unexpected excitement at what else we might see today is immediately tinged with bitterness. How could such an amazing thing, something that my father created, be as new to me as everyone else who is here seeing it for the first time, too?

Does he really think that little of me? Does he think of me at all? Dammit! There are those pesky mixed feelings again. I decide to try and do what I have always done. I push them to the back of my mind and cover them with indifference. In that respect, maybe he and I are all too similar.

“There’s someone in there!” Brent Fairchild exclaims in a high-pitched tone of voice that strips away his usual arrogant façade.

A human figure seems to have materialized from absolutely nowhere. It starts walking directly toward us. It looks like it’s covered from head to toe in some kind of skin-tight, hooded, silver bodysuit. Judging by the breasts beneath that suit, it’s obvious that she is a woman, and yet where her face should be, there’s a featureless, shiny, black oval-shaped mask. She walks toward the wall of the dome, stops about sixty feet away from us on the other side, and stands motionless, her black-plastic-covered face staring blankly out toward us.

Suddenly, without warning, a razor-thin split shears up the entire surface of the glass. With a sound like violent ocean waves crashing against a rocky shore, the whole massive dome slices down the middle and opens up like an impossibly huge crystal flower. We all stumble and stagger backward in speechless wonder. The gap is getting wider and wider, the edges cascading loudly into the ground as if it were made from thousands of tons of free-standing water, pouring down into itself and inexplicably disappearing without a trace, like ice melting into piping-hot sand on a sweltering summer’s day.

What just a moment ago resembled a giant, jungle-filled snow globe now looks more like a huge, translucent mouth, slowly yawning skyward. The sounds of birds and monkeys become louder and louder as the gap expands, the edges retracting down into the earth until soon the glass cage is completely gone, sunken into the dirt at the edge of the circular stone rim surrounding the beautiful, teeming green forest. The ground begins to vibrate, quickly followed by a rolling rumbling noise in the distance. Bit stumbles and grabs onto Professor Francis’s arm.

I reach out for something to hold on to and clutch the nearest person without thinking.

I turn and find myself looking directly into Ryan Forrester’s eyes. They’re a kind of hazel amber, speckled with tiny flecks of gold. “Hi,” he says softly, his voice warm and calm. My stomach does a somersault.

Out of the corner of my eye, something moves. A flock of birds has been startled into the air. Ryan and I look up just in time to see a massive flat-topped monolith of brown rock emerge above the trees from the depths of the jungle.

Trees sprout instantaneously on the top ridges, and shallow troughs carve themselves on either side. We hear the sound of rushing water before we see it. Louder and louder it becomes, until suddenly it gushes out over the sides of the peak, pouring in heavy torrents out into the jungle below. The shaking ceases and the entire monolith changes color from terracotta brown to a dark shade of gray. Blue flames erupt from the face of the sheer rock wall, burning a huge flickering Blackstone diamond logo into its surface.

Somewhere in the dense jungle, as if on cue, the powerful guttural roar of what I imagine could only be a tiger reverberates through the trees and echoes into the distance.

Everything is absolutely breathtaking.

Even though she’s been right in front of us the whole time, I had forgotten the woman was even there, standing as still as a statue in front of this stunning backdrop. Professor Francis is as gob-smacked as the rest of us, ogling open-mouthed at the amazing sights and sounds. After a moment he seems to gather his senses. “Move up. Move up everyone.” Oohing and aahing and wowing, we all walk forward toward the silver woman. Karla Bassano, at the back of the group, jumps with a little screech as grass and bushes sprout from the ground behind her. The farther in we all go, the thicker the sprouting foliage behind us becomes, until we’re all gathered in a small round clearing, completely surrounded by trees and bushes with the woman in silver standing in the center a few feet in front of us.