Trapped!: The 2031 Journal of Otis Fitzmorgan (6 page)

There was a soft chime from my probe. “There!” I announced. “See this screen?” I asked, pointing at the color readout. “It
tells me that this watch is made of steel, glass, a little crystal, and small amounts of white Paint.”

I could tell from Charlotte's face that she wasn't impressed. Desperate to entertain her, I kept talking. “The probe uses
a laser. It shines on a sample area, and the scattered radiation, or photons, are analyzed. This tells me what materials were
used to make the object. Also, I can check out pigments or dyes. Were they around when the piece of art was created? None
of the tools I use will harm the object itself, which is important”

Stifling a yawn, Charlotte turned back to the plane. “Can I touch it?” She was already moving her hand toward the tail.

I should let her, I thought. That'd put a stop to her boredom. But I said, “I wouldn't recommend it.”

Her hand was still moving. “Why not? You did.”

“There's a field set up around each item. And it will deliver a jolt of electricity that will knock you off your feet.”

She lowered her hand. “Well, I guess that's a good reason.”

“The field has been programmed to allow only people with the correct DNA through,” I said.

“We use DNA in another way, too,” I continued. “After I've inspected a work of art and determined it's real, I put an invisible
stamp on it. The stamp is microscopic, and it contains my DNA. It's like adding my signature to the piece. I can use my microprobe
to check that my DNA signature is in place at any time.”

I ran the probe over the plane. Another pleasant chime let me know my DNA stamp was still there. “Everything's fine,” I told
her. Once again, I was showing off, but I couldn't seem to help myself.

“What would happen if your probe told you one of these pieces of art was a fake?”

“Whoever found the real artwork would get a huge reward from the insurance company—and I'd be out of a job.”

“But working for the government isn't the job you want anyway, is it?”

“What makes you say that?”

“Just something I read somewhere…” Her voice trailed off, but her eyes locked onto mine with a challenging look.

I knew, of course, she was talking about what she'd seen in my journal when she was flipping through it at the security clearance
area. But before I could say anything, she walked away.

I followed her over to the E
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statue.

“Now, this is something,” she said.

“What's it make you feel?”

Her eyes glinted, but she just shrugged. She started walking to the next object, which was a carved totem. As she moved away,
the air stirred around the statue. I caught a whiff of the light smell of the soap she used.

CHARLOTTE SEEMED IMPRESSED BY THE STATUE.

“I think you'll—” I froze in my tracks. “It can't be…”

Charlotte turned to look at me. “What's wrong?”

I ran my microprobe over the statue and confirmed that my DNA stamp was in place, but I knew I was right. My limbs felt heavy,
and my head swam. I pointed with a shaking finger at E
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and managed to say, “This statue is a fake.”

“Are you serious?” she asked. “How do you know?”

I sniffed around the statue.

“What are you doing?” she asked, as I smelled the air again.

“Forgers have been able to copy all kinds of materials. They can get past most physical inspections. But there's one thing
they haven't been able to copy, and that's the smell of certain materials.”

“I don't follow you.”

“I have a secret weapon I use in my job. So far, the FSA has managed to keep criminals from finding out about it.”

“What's your secret weapon?”

“My nose.”

“Your what?” She asked, looking doubtful.

“My nose!” I almost shouted. “I can pick up and identify smells as well as any bloodhound.”

“You're kidding—” She broke off as understanding flashed in her eyes. “So that's how you knew my dad was carrying food in
his pocket!”

I nodded.

I removed a small blade from my belt. In one fluid motion, I hacked off a small piece of the statue.

“You can't do that!” Charlotte gasped.

“I'm confirming what my nose tells me to be true.”

I walked over to the minilab in the wall, hoping that it would be stocked with the materials I needed. I found a petri dish
and dropped the hunk of statue into it. I could use my microprobe as a heating device. Now I just needed a food source.

“Do you have any kind of food in your bag?”

“All I've got is sugar,” Charlotte replied, handing me a packet from her bag. “It's rare to find real sugar these days, so
I always carry some around with me to put in my tea.”

I tore open the packet and dumped it into the petri dish. I adjusted my probe and aimed it toward the dish.

I ZAPPED THE SHARD WITH MY PROBE.

BLAM!

There was flash of light, and the piece of statue seemed to explode.

Shocked, Charlotte jumped back.

“Sorry,” I told her. “I meant to say, watch out.”

In less than a second, the bit of statue had been reduced to a grayish brown pile of what looked like sand.

She gasped. “What just happened?”

After slipping on a plastic glove from the minilab, I ran my hand over the sculpture. “This statue is definitely a fake. Someone
used biological nano—material to recreate a near—exact copy of the original.”

Charlotte shook her head. “Can you say that again for the back of the class?”

I took a deep breath and tried to explain it more clearly. “Nano—material is made up of smart cells that are manmade. They're
alive, but they've been constructed by scientists.”

“Like mini living robots?”

“That's right. Nanobots are extremely small. If you lined up thousands of them end to end, they might only be the width of
a human hair. They may be small, but because they're living, they need to eat. Nanobots can't resist a food source. It overrides
whatever their secondary programming might be. It's kind of like a survival instinct. If you introduce a liquid food source,
they act like a swirling school of starving sharks.”

“I remember now. We studied this stuff in grade school,” she said. “Wouldn't a group of nanobots this big be worth more than
the statue itself?”

“Yes,” I said. “And no one has ever been able to copy a DNA stamp before. These nanobots must be the most advanced kind.”

I was shaking my head and staring down at the petri dish. I could be in serious trouble. “Come on,” I ordered. “I have to
tell my parents.”

We rushed back to the elevator. As the doors closed, I jabbed the button for Level 3.

I didn't speak on the way up. Charlotte nudged me with her elbow. I looked at her, and she gave me a small, reassuring smile.
“It's going to be okay.”

I wished I could be so sure.

With a DING, the door slid open.

“There you are!” Yves cried, putting one meaty hand on my chest. “You lied to me! You sent me up to my room for no—”

I knocked his hand away. “Yves, I don't have time for this,” I said through clenched teeth.

His face went red and he took a step closer to me. “You'll make time—”

This was ridiculous. We pushed past him and walked into the Common Room. The partition had been removed, and the two rooms
had been turned into a single large one. My parents were at one of the tables chatting with Charlotte's dad, who appeared
to be feeling much better. I could see Lysa curled up on a couch and Crockett standing in the corner talking with the holo—nurse.

WES THE BULLY

As I tried to figure out how to tell my parents about the fake statue, the elevator dinged, and I heard Yves say, “What are
you doing here?”

Many of the adults had looked up as we came in. My mom and dad were looking at me expectantly with half-smiles. Then they
must have noticed the alarm on my face. They both stood.

“Honey, what is it?” my mom asked.

I opened my mouth to speak—and saw the most terrifying thing in my life.

Without warning, the bodies of each and every adult went rigid. Their arms were straight at their sides, as if they were being
jolted by an electrical shock.

Then in flash, they all collapsed.

It was like a watching a forest of trees fall under the invisible axe of a ghost. If they were standing, like my parents,
their bodies simply crumpled to the floor. If they were seated, they either pitched forward or slumped back in their chairs.
It was over in about one second. Only five people remained standing—Crockett, Lysa, Charlotte, Yves, and I.