Wonderscape Page 4

  The captain lifted his chin. “Yes?” He stopped just in front of them. “I’m Professor Isaac Newton. And who might you be?”

  Arthur wasn’t sure whether the captain was trying to crack some sort of joke or if he really believed that. “I’m Arthur and this is Ren and Cecily,” he introduced uncertainly. For clarity, he added, “Obviously you’re not the Isaac Newton. He’s been dead for hundreds of years.”

  “Ah.” The captain gave a wry smile. “That’s not exactly true.”

  5

  “You’re right about one thing: I did die hundreds of years ago,” the captain said. “King George gave me a state funeral, actually.” He spoke abruptly, tugging on the bottom of his coat to straighten it. Arthur noticed the edge of a brandy-leather notebook protruding from his pocket. “But I am also alive now, standing before you.”

  Arthur’s brow twisted like the knots in the Principia’s rigging. The captain couldn’t possibly be telling the truth. What was he suggesting? That he’d risen from the dead?

  The longer Arthur considered the matter, the more doubts niggled at his mind. Trouble was, the points on his “reality” compass had shifted so dramatically in the last hour that he didn’t know what to believe. If it was possible to walk through a doorway on Peacepoint Estate and end up on a ship, then maybe it was conceivable this man was Isaac Newton?

  “I would explain everything if I could,” the captain continued, throwing a cagey glance at his first officer, “but the secrets of the Wonderscape must stay secret. Now, I assume you’re all eager to claim your loot?” He swept his gaze over their dripping wet school uniforms and did a double take. “First Officer?”

  The crewman whizzed forward. “Sir?”

  “These three aren’t wearing Wondercloaks! Which Wonderscape realm have they come from?”

  The first officer glanced at Arthur, Ren and Cecily. “I don’t know, sir.” He pulled a reporter’s journal out of his top pocket, flipped to the first page and flashed it at Newton. “These were the coordinates of the Wonderway they entered through.”

  “What?” The captain’s voice crept higher as he read. “That’s not feasible.” He circled them slowly, studying their features as if they were bacteria in a Petri dish.

  At the same time, Arthur scrutinized him. There was no denying that the captain was the spitting image of Isaac Newton, and if he was also the author of those notebooks, then the strange old-style English would make sense. Arthur didn’t understand how any of it was possible, but he found himself starting to believe it. He recalled the first two lines of the riddle: Set sail across a stormy ocean with one, who wrote the laws of motion. It was, without doubt, a reference to Newton. Writing the laws of motion was one of the scientist’s most famous achievements.

  When the captain finally made it back round to face them, his expression was tense. “You’re not supposed to be here,” he concluded.

  “Finally! Someone who understands!” Cecily’s breath painted the cold air as she stepped forward. “Please, you have to help us. We went through a doorway that we suspect might have been a portal, in order to rescue this dog.” She held Cloud higher to illustrate, his paws hooked over her arm. “And then we discovered that our mobile phones weren’t working and we were somehow on this ship. And now we need to get back home so we can get to school.”

  “Portal… Mobile phones…” Newton jotted the phrases in his leather notebook, rubbing his chin. “I may be able to explain your situation, but first I must insist that you get rid of those wet garments. It’s for your own safety. Come with me.”

  Arthur wasn’t sure why their wet clothes would affect their safety, other than perhaps giving them a cold, but if following so-called Isaac Newton meant the possibility of warming up and getting answers, he wasn’t about to protest.

  With the first officer at the rear, Newton led Arthur, Ren and Cecily below deck. The Principia’s cramped wooden interior smelled of motor oil and seaweed. Arthur kept his elbows in as they walked single-file along a narrow hallway decorated with hexagon-patterned wallpaper, and then turned into a tight stairwell. Somewhere in the belly of the vessel he heard the faint melody of a sea shanty being sung by deep voices. At the bottom of the stairs was a long passage with six doors, each one labelled with a hand-drawn sign. Arthur recognized the handwriting from the notebooks. It was Newton’s.

  “As you’ve no doubt noticed,” Newton said, guiding them past a door named LABORATORY 18, “the Principia is no ordinary ship; she is a scientific research vessel.”

  Cecily whispered in Arthur’s ear, “I can’t have been concentrating during my Isaac Newton lesson. What’s he famous for again?”

  “He’s one of the greatest scientists of all time,” Arthur replied, keeping his voice down. “He discovered gravity.”

  “Gravity?” She stared in amazement at Newton’s back.

  Reflecting on the scientist’s accomplishments, Arthur had to pinch himself. It was amazing to think that just one person had changed the way humans understand the universe. Without Newton’s work, other scientists wouldn’t have developed flight or space rockets, and everyone would probably still be communicating via telegraph because satellites wouldn’t exist.

  “I redesigned the ship,” Newton continued, “to help me voyage through the Wonderscape, learning more about nature and the cosmos. The Principia might appear plain but she is in fact as complex as a watch movement, precision-built by mimics.”

  “Mimics?” Arthur echoed.

  Newton signalled to the first officer. “Short for mimetic androids; the Wonderscape is full of them. There are two types: the T-class and the V-class.” He paused and added, “They can be a little bad-tempered. Don’t take it personally.”

  Arthur glanced at Ren and Cecily, who both shrugged. Bad-tempered robots were the least of their problems.

  Newton stopped two-thirds of the way along the passage and opened a door labelled, LOST. “This is where I store the items that have been left behind by others, in case they come in useful for my studies. You should all find something that fits. When you’re done changing, my study is the last door on the right. I’ll meet you there.” As Newton turned to leave, Arthur noticed him retrieve his notebook and turn to an empty page. He was writing as he walked away, with the first officer at his side.

  “Do you really think he’s the Isaac Newton?” Ren asked, opening the LOST door. “I mean, how can he be? He’s dead.”

  Arthur rubbed his temples as they walked inside. Everything was so mind-boggling, it was bringing on a headache. “I don’t know how,” he admitted, “but the more the captain tells us, the more I think he’s telling the truth. It’s not just that he looks and acts like Newton, it’s that he seems to have the same knowledge and skills.”

  “So what, he’s some kind of zombie?” she suggested.

  Arthur stared at her. “No, obviously not. But something strange is going on.”

  The lost property room was the size of a school canteen and contained enough clothes to dress a small army. Alongside trunks of jumpers, there were wardrobes of jackets and coats, drawers of coiled belts, chests bursting with T-shirts, tightly packed rails of dresses and even an entire hat stand full of straw Panamas. The air smelled of washing powder and linen, like in a launderette.

  “This place is incredible,” Cecily said, marvelling. “Who knew a centuries-old scientist would have such an amazing fashion collection?” A line appeared on her forehead as she stroked the arm of a nearby dress. “Although … we’ve completed the game now, right? So why do we have to get changed?”

  “Newton said it was for our own safety,” Arthur reminded them anxiously. He was starting to worry why there didn’t seem to be an obvious way for them to get back to Peacepoint. “I guess we’ll just have to go along with it for now, until we hear what he has to say.” He surveyed the rails quickly. Everything was meticulously catalogued with paper tags. From what he could gather, footwear had been organized by size, shirts by colour, and trousers by fa
bric type. It appeared Newton had written the chemical formulas of the materials as opposed to their common names – Arthur was pretty sure the rail of shorts labelled C6H7O2(OH)3 was known as cotton to most people.

  He found a shoe rack of dry footwear in his size, moved past the flip-flops, plimsolls and stilettos, and grabbed a pair of air-soled trainers.

  “It’s going to take ages to decide what to wear,” Cecily remarked, inspecting a rail of corduroy skirts. “There’s so much choice.”

  “What about trying something dry that fits?” Ren suggested, rummaging through a chest of trousers. She selected a pair of black utility ones with lots of pockets and disappeared behind a screen to change.

  After moving aside a couple of boxes of books, Arthur tramped over to a trunk marked C16H10N2O2 and lifted out a pair of jeans. The corner of a colourful piece of paper protruded from the pocket, so he tugged it out.

  It appeared to be a ticket. The background featured the image of a multi-domed silver building surrounded by trees. This was overlaid by iridescent letters, which read:

  “Whatever this Wonderscape is, it’s a big deal,” Arthur realized, holding the ticket up so Cecily could see. “There’s an Expo held for it.” Arthur’s dad had taken him to a comic book and film Expo last year. It was a huge fair showcasing all the latest releases, with tons of merchandise stands, meet-and-greets with famous actors and artists, and the chance to get a sneak peek at stuff yet to be released.

  Cecily shook her head. “I still don’t understand how a game this popular has been kept secret, and how we’ve stumbled into it from a house on Peacepoint Estate. Plus, if all these clothes have been left behind by previous players, then tens of thousands of people must have been aboard the Principia before us.”

  Feeling even more confused, Arthur slid the Expo ticket into his rucksack for safe-keeping. Searching through the trunk, he found a pair of jeans in his size and slung them over his arm.

  “How far away do you think we are?” Ren called out as she was getting changed.

  For a split second Arthur didn’t understand what she meant. Then it hit him. “You mean, from Peacepoint?” As he started to consider the possibilities, his chest grew tighter. The only way to explain the second sunrise they’d seen was that they’d moved to a different time zone. And that meant…

  He slammed shut the lid of the trunk and slumped on top, feeling unsteady. Whatever this game was, it was using some sort of freaky next-level science. Walking through that weird portal must have transported them somewhere else on Earth or even further. The thought terrified him.

  “You OK?” Cecily asked him, replacing her blazer with a leather jacket.

  No! But he was too shy to tell Cecily the truth. “I’m fine,” he lied. In reality, his heart was pumping really fast, like it might explode out through his ribs. They could be hundreds of miles away from home right now and they still had no idea how to get back. All he could think about was how far away his dad was…

  She assessed his face sceptically. “If you’re not feeling well, you should try taking deep breaths.” She demonstrated by inhaling slowly through her nostrils and then exhaling through her mouth.

  Arthur did his best to copy her. The more he repeated the process, the easier it became. After a minute, the tension in his chest dissipated. “Good advice,” he mumbled. “Thanks.”

  With a smile, she went back to admiring the blouse she was holding. “I don’t think it really matters how far away we are,” she replied to Ren. “Only that there is a way back. Isaac Newton is a genius. If anyone can help us, it’s him.”

  Arthur appreciated Cecily’s positivity, he really did. The issue was: the very fact they were seeking help from a walking, talking Isaac Newton showed just how much trouble they were in.

  6

  “You two ready yet?” Ren asked, emerging from behind the screen. In addition to the combat boots and cargo trousers, she wore a belted black gilet over a long-sleeved thermal running top. Combined with her pale skin, dark eyeliner and silky hair, she looked like a highly practical vampire.

  Arthur reached blindly into a box of T-shirts. “Gimme a sec.”

  Minutes later, he and Cecily were changed. Under her leather jacket she wore ripped jeans, a vintage California logo T-shirt and a green cashmere cardigan. She’d even found a dog lead for Cloud that matched his ruby-red collar. Arthur had paired his blue-wash jeans and trainers with a plain white T-shirt, red jumper and thin waterproof jacket. It wasn’t what he’d normally wear, but it was dry and surprisingly comfy.

  He fiddled nervously with a loose thread on the sleeve of his jumper as they walked along the corridor towards the study. Although Newton had promised to try to explain their situation, Arthur had a horrible feeling he wouldn’t like what the scientist had to say. It troubled him that no one had showed them how to return to Peacepoint yet, as if there was no easy way.

  As they stepped through the cabin door, he blinked with surprise. The space was larger and brighter than he had expected. Crystal chandeliers bejewelled the ceiling, spilling light onto a selection of comfy leather armchairs, wooden desks and laboratory tables. The tiled floor was patterned with more hexagons and the walls were lined with bookcases, except for a section of the hull that had been replaced by thick glass, giving a floor-to-ceiling view of the inky water outside.

  “Professor?” Arthur called, venturing in past a table of peculiar chemistry equipment. There were hovering test tubes; Bunsen burners crackling with candy-pink flames; and even a sealed beaker of orange gloop that appeared to be climbing the walls of the jar, trying to break free.

  “He’s not here,” Ren said. “We’ll just have to wait.”

  Cecily held a magnifying glass to her eye, making it bulge to the size of an apple. “What is all this stuff?”

  Evidence of strange experiments covered every surface. The remains of a dissected mimic hand lay carefully organized on one desk, along with a tea-stained pile of papers, a pair of tongs and a singed woolly hat. Alternate pockets of sweet and sour chemicals lingered in the air. Arthur passed a table of microscopes with drawers underneath labelled Wondernews Archives, and wondered what they meant.

  In the middle of the room stood an imposing rectangular frame, as tall and wide as a bookcase. “Newton said that the Principia is a scientific research vessel,” Arthur reminded them, circling the structure. “This must be where he does some of his research.” The frame was painted black, but it seemed blacker than anything Arthur had ever seen before – like it was drawing all light towards it.

  Right then, the study door slammed open and Newton barrelled into the room, carrying a heap of black material. “Apologies for keeping you,” he muttered. “I couldn’t find the right shoes.”

  As his feet came into view, Arthur did a double-take.

  The man who had discovered gravity was wearing a pair of fluffy pink unicorn-head slippers.

  “Nowadays I do my best thinking when I’m wearing novelty footwear, for some reason,” he explained hastily. “And your particular dilemma definitely requires my best thinking.” He hung the fabric over the back of an armchair and hurried to a brightly coloured contraption in the corner of the room. Decorated with neon flashing lights, it looked a bit like an old Wurlitzer jukebox, except there was a holographic catalogue glowing behind the glass.

  “Lesson one: everything around you is real,” Newton said. He flicked a finger through the air and the catalogue responded to his movements. The pages were animated with videos and scrolling text. “There’s no virtual reality in the Wonderscape. Everything functions using a combination of molecular assembly, self-reconfiguring modular robotics and nanotechnology. Of course it might seem like magic to you, for reasons I’ll get to later.”

  Arthur shook his head, overwhelmed with information. He was right about the freaky next-level science. He’d heard of nanotechnology before, but that was in comic books. He glanced worriedly at Ren and Cecily as they joined each other opposite the jukebox. This p
robably meant that getting home would be far more complicated than they’d hoped.

  Newton gestured with his hands and a set of doors in the lower half of the jukebox slid open. He crouched down, lifted out a small china plate and placed it on a nearby table. Sitting on top was a wholemeal tuna sandwich, neatly cut into four triangles and garnished with a salad of fresh green leaves and juicy tomatoes.

  Cecily frowned and whispered in Arthur’s ear. “I thought he was meant to be serving us an explanation, not afternoon tea.”

  Arthur wasn’t sure what Newton was up to, but he spotted the word STORE lit up at the top of a catalogue page. The jukebox had to be some kind of vending machine.

  Newton ordered several more dishes and placed them alongside the sandwich. When he was finished, a sizeable buffet covered the table, featuring everything from rollmop herring and salmon sushi, to smoked mackerel kedgeree and steaming lobster bisque. The jukebox even dispensed a doggy bowl of water for Cloud, who plonked his bottom on the floor and began lapping at it.

  “Cuisine aboard the Principia is limited to seafood,” the scientist told them resignedly. “Some of these new-fangled dishes are really rather good, but I’d much prefer a simple meat stew. Anyway, please help yourselves.”

  The fishy odour was so pungent it made Arthur’s stomach turn. Ren and Cecily must have felt the same because they quickly shook their heads.

  “Suit yourselves,” Newton mumbled. “Sometimes a snack can ease the pain of bad news, that’s all.”

  Bad news? Arthur got a sinking feeling as Newton dashed over to the floor-to-ceiling window and removed a white marker from his pocket. “Now, I haven’t given a lecture since my days at the Royal Society, so I might be a little rusty.” His pen squeaked as he squiggled something on the glass and stepped back.

  It was the strange triangle-hexagon-cross symbol again.