Trapped!: The 2031 Journal of Otis Fitzmorgan (7 page)

SUDDENLY ALL THE ADULTS COLLAPSED!

“Mom! Dad!” I shouted and rushed to my parents.

Lysa screamed and ran to her mom. Mrs. Benato had been seated at the table eating something and had fallen headfirst into
her plate.

“Dad!” Charlotte yelled as she raced over to Mr. Noonan.

“Nurse!” Crockett shouted above the din. But the holo—nurse had disappeared.

Only Yves looked rooted to the ground. “I didn't say you could do this!” Clearly in shock, he was shouting at the adults.
“Get up at once!”

Crockett pushed him aside and walked over to Mr. and Mrs. Jackson. They'd been in the middle of a virtual TV show, but the
holo-figures had dematerialized, and Yves's parents were in a heap on the floor.

“Nurse!” Crockett called again, but the hologram of the nurse didn't reappear. “Computer! Emergency!” Again, no response.

“What's happened to them, Crockett?” I asked from across the room. My voice sounded panicked and scared.

Flustered, Crockett shook his head. “I don't know.” He straightened the limbs of Mr. and Mrs. Jackson and made them as comfortable
as possible. Then he walked over to me.

“The Jacksons seem to be breathing fine,” he told me. “It's as if they've just gone to sleep.”

I had just placed pillows from the couch under my parents' heads and was crouching by my mom. Crockett knelt next to me.

“Let me examine your mom,” he said. I nodded, and he placed a hand on her wrist and took her pulse. “It's fast but steady
and strong. Now for her eyes…” Crockett gently pulled back my mom's eyelids to examine her pupils—

And what I saw made me gasp. My mom's eyes were almost completely black.

“Whoa…,” Crockett breathed.

There was a cry of shock from behind me. It was Yves. He must have been looking over my shoulder. Now, he stumbled backward
and hit his head against the wall. He slid to the floor, muttering something that I couldn't understand.

I glanced back down at my poor mom. But this time, I didn't panic.

On second look, I could see it was just my mom's contact lenses that had gone black, not her eyes.

WHEN YVES SAW MY MOM'S EYES, HE STUMBLED BACK IN SHOCK.

Following a hunch, I ran the end of my probe over the back of her neck. There was no interference. I gently lifted my dad's
head and ran the probe over the skin of his neck. Once again, the screen showed no interference.

“I'm not picking up any signs of their 'quists,” I told Crockett.

He shook his head. “That's impossible. Even when you turn off a 'quist, it will still register on probes.”

All the adults I knew had a 'quist implanted at the base of their skull so they could connect to the Internet. They wear special
contact lenses to see '“screens” and can send e-mail, visit Web sites, write documents—everything they used to do with a keyboard
and a mouse—just by moving their hands, lips, and eyes.

That's why the device is called a 'quist—which is short for ventriloquist. People look like bad ventriloquists when they communicate
with the computers, because their lips are moving. But you can't hear what they're saying.

And now something had gone wrong with my parents' 'quists. “Help me get their contacts out,” I told Crockett.

After we removed the contacts, I was relieved to see that my parents' eyes looked perfectly normal.

We moved around, checking on the other adults. Lysa was crying silently over her mother, and Charlotte was on a couch, her
dad's head cradled in her lap. All the adults had the same symptoms—including blackened contacts. We plucked them all out
and tried to make everyone as comfortable as we could.

“What is happening?” Charlotte asked, looking down at her dad's face.

“I think the 'quists have made all the adults sick somehow,” I said from between my parents.

“Why weren't the five of us affected?” Yves asked. He was still sitting against the wall.

“Because you have to be eighteen to get a 'quist implant, genius,” Charlotte shot back. But she seemed to realize she was
being too harsh, and her voice softened. “We're okay because we're not old enough to get a 'quist, and the 'quist is what
made the adults collapse.”

Lysa looked at me miserably. “What do we do?”

“I think—,” I started to say.

Yves lumbered to his feet. “I'm in charge here!”

Charlotte rolled her eyes and ignored Yves. “Keep talking, Otis. What do you think we should do?”

All eyes were now on me.

“First things first,” I said. “We have to check out the Controller,” I said.

“Who?” Lysa squeaked.

“The Controller is the operator down on Level 1,” I replied. “He's the one in charge of driving the Climber. We have to make
sure he's okay.”

I walked to the intercom on the wall. You actually had to press a button and speak into the box. I tried contacting the Controller,
but there was no response.

I turned back to the others. “Let's go down to Level 1 and check on him.”

Everyone—even Yves—nodded.

Crockett looked up from putting a cushion under Mr. Bennett's head and said, “You four go ahead. I'll stay here with the adults
and try to figure out what's wrong with them. Good luck.”

I hated to leave my mom and dad, but we couldn't sit in the Common Room and do nothing. Once the four of us were on the elevator,
I pressed my thumb on the pad next to the button for Level 1.

CROCKETT VOLUNTEERED TO STAY WITH THE ADULTS.

“What are you doing?” Lysa asked.

“Level 1 is a restricted floor. You need security clearance to access it.”

The elevator door opened, and we stepped into a short hallway. This floor was meant for Elevator personnel only, so the designers
hadn't bothered with the Old West theme. The walls were a stark white that was almost blinding under the harsh overhead lights.
Most of Level 1 was occupied by the computer equipment that kept the Climber moving safely up and down the ribbon.

At one end of the hallway, a sign on a door read: CLIMBER CONTROL.

“The Controller's in there,” I said. We made our way to the door and knocked. There was no answer, so I said, “Door open.”
The door didn't move. I tried pressing my thumb on the pad next to it. Once again, no luck. The door wouldn't budge.

“We're going to have to force it open,” I said.

“That's impossible,” Charlotte said. “We're not strong enough.”

“Let me,” Yves said, and stepped in front of us. “I don't go to the gym for nothing.” He put both hands on the door and pulled
to the side as hard as he could. As I watched the veins in his neck and arms pop. I thought Charlotte was right. You couldn't
open a door just by pulling on it.

YVES USED BRUTE STRENGTH TO OPEN THE CONTROL ROOM DOOR.

And then Yves grunted and pulled even harder. Amazingly, the door started to slide open. He was able to move it just enough
for us to squeeze through into the Control Room. Charlotte didn't hesitate. She turned her body sideways and slid into the
room.

“Good job, Yves,” I said. But before he could respond, there was a frightened gasp from Charlotte.

I squeezed through into a small room filled with monitors and blinking buttons, and saw what had startled her. The Controller,
a bald man who looked to be about thirty, was passed out in his chair. His body had slipped to one side, and if he hadn't
been strapped in, he might have fallen completely out of his seat.

THE CONTROLLER WAS CNCONSCIOUS, TOO!

We straightened him out and checked his condition. He was breathing fine, but just like the adults up on Level 3, his contacts
had gone black. I removed them and turned to the mammoth control panel that took up the wall in front of the Controller's
chair.

My eyes ran over the sleek operating system, taking it all in. I tried pressing a few buttons and touching different screens.
Nothing happened.

“Someone has destroyed the communications system and put the Elevator on autopilot,” I said. “There's no way to stop the Elevator,
and there's no way to talk to anyone on the outside.”

“But what about oxygen or heat? Are those systems working?” Lysa asked.

“Yes, thankfully, those are all intact. We have plenty of oxygen for the trip down,” I assured them. “And the artificial gravity
is working just fine.”

“Why do I know you're about to say, 'But…,'” Charlotte asked. “Because I haven't told you the worst yet,” I answered. “Whoever
destroyed the communications system had to do it in person. That means the bad guy has to be somewhere on board the Climber.”

Lysa gasped and covered her mouth with her hands.

“Let's head back to the Common Room,” I said. The thought that there might be a criminal wandering around the Climber made
me even more worried for my parents.

“I think I'll stay here,” Yves announced. He plopped down in the extra seat next to the emergency airlock that led outside.

I shook my head. “No, we all need to stick together. Let's go. You can help me carry the Controller up to Level 3 so Crockett
can take a look at him.”

Grudgingly, Yves stood up. I took the Controller's legs and Yves took his Shoulders
.
In the Common Room, we found Crockett holding a magnifying lens with a mini video screen over a small blood sample.