“Dang it!”
Paulie Priest walked the same path through the woods every morning, sat on the same green wooden bench, and he was always able to get a Wi-Fi signal on his laptop.
Not today, though.
Instead of several options popping up under the “Select a Wireless Network” window, there was nothing – not even “JumpinJackFlash68,” which had become his go-to connection.
Paulie was painfully shy, incredibly smart, and much more comfortable alone than with others. His morning walks were something of a refuge; he loved the sights and smells of the forest, but he also relished the sounds of “nerd time.”
That’s what he called his daily ritual, which featured the flora, fauna and funga appetizer followed by the main course –
plopping down and listening to podcasts such as “Robotics Rebellion” and “Humanoid Aliens: A Theory.”
If he could somehow survive middle school and high school, he wanted to go to Georgia Tech’s School of Electrical and Computer Engineering. He would never dare tell anyone, of course, but he was confident he could make history there.
Last year during the annual science fair at Fillmore Middle School, the seventh grader took the grand prize with a homemade robotic vacuum cleaner. Designed to look like the spacecraft of his favorite show, “Wandering Star Command,” the gadget scurried across the floor of the auditorium, picking up debris and wowing the judges with its efficiency.
It was one of many inventions he had stored away at the small house he shared with his mom. Because when he wasn’t walking and listening to podcasts, Paulie loved tinkering in the garage and building whatever he could think of with whatever he could find.
Many of the components he used were left behind by his dad, a computer technician who drove off to his job in Atlanta several years earlier but never bothered to come back.
Instead of holding on to a bitter memory though, all Paulie wanted to do right now was listen to the live broadcast of “Robotics Rebellion.” Without a signal, that wasn’t going to happen.
So, he did what people always do when the Wi-Fi isn’t working: he rebooted.
Moments later his laptop came back to life and he found one network option called “Distress Call 2374.”
“Well,” he said, “there’s no lock and the signal looks strong, so hello, ‘Distress Call 2374.’”
With a simple keystroke, he was in.
However, all the icons on his screen disappeared and were replaced by what looked like hundreds of neon yellow dots moving randomly – and rapidly – over a bright orange background.
The dots ultimately settled into a pattern, one that formed the fuzzy outline of what appeared to be a woman sitting at some sort of control panel.
“This is Captain Luna Bertrand of Exploration Vessel Marquee … do you read me?”
Paulie blinked several times to make sure he was seeing what he was seeing – and hearing what he was hearing.
“I read you … fine,” he said. “You’re really blurry, though.”
The screen pulsated with white light briefly before clearly displaying Bertrand, a green-eyed redhead clad in a blue military-style uniform.
“Sorry about that,” she said. “Am I clear now? I can see you fine.”
Paulie gazed at Bertrand and all the high-tech equipment in the background. The production values of the broadcast were excellent.
“So, what gives?” he asked. “Is this some kind of viral marketing thing? If this has to do with a ‘Wandering Star Command’ spin-off, I’m all in. Your bridge doesn’t look like their bridge, though.”
Bertrand tapped her side of the screen and a schematic popped up in the lower left corner.
“Look at this and tell me if it’s yours,” she said.
Paulie immediately recognized it as the blueprint for his robotic vacuum cleaner.
“Well … yeah,” he said, slightly puzzled. “That was my science project. But how did you get it? How do you even know about it?”
Bertrand answered by punching a button transforming Paulie’s computer screen into a hologram that displayed both the vacuum cleaner and the spacecraft.
“We’re facing a bit of a time issue here, so I’m giving you the condensed version,” Bertrand said. “To you, it’s May 8, 2024. But I’m from the year 2374 and communicating with you through a rift – a very, very tenuous rift. In the 350 years between your time and mine, the earth has endured two world wars and three plagues. But five years ago, in 2369, there was a cyber attack that resulted in an information wipe.
“Explaining the particulars would take far too long, but let me just say we’re dangerously close to using an abacus to figure out math problems. Now, I don’t really expect you to believe any of this, but I’d appreciate it if you’d humor me.”
Paulie was certainly skeptical, but the fact that his standard laptop was now a device capable of 3D imaging got his attention.
If it was a hoax, it was a brilliant one.
“OK,” he said. “Just for fun, I’ll play along. What do you need from me?”
Betrand placed the image of Exploration Vessel Marquee over that of Paulie’s vacuum.
“According to the bits and pieces of historical records we salvaged after the wipe, the class of starships used 200 years ago are based on your science project,” she explained. “Comparatively speaking to what we fly now, they’re easy to build, cost-effective, durable, and ideal for transporting passengers. Problem is, we haven’t been very successful reverse-engineering them. I need you to compare the schematics and give me some idea of what we need to do to replicate the Priest-Class vessels. I’m confident we can figure out a way – with your help.”
Paulie smiled.
“This is funny,” he said. “Normally somebody’s idea of a joke ends up with me stuffed in a locker so … thanks for naming spaceships after me.”
Bertrand shook her head.
“Please, Dr. Priest,” Bertrand said. “If we’re going to successfully evacuate Earth before the planet dies, we could use your expertise. Now, look at how our engine room is constructed in relation to the motor on your device …”
