Edison’s Alley by Neal Shusterman and Eric Elfman Read Free Book Online

timid knock, and in a moment the office door opened just wide enough for the person on the other side to poke his head in. “Excuse me, Dr. Jorgenson?” an impertinent
doctoral student said. “I’ve been waiting for nearly an hour…”
    “And you’ll wait an hour more if that’s what I require,” Jorgenson told him.
    “Yes, sir.” He unpoked his head and closed the door quietly.
    Even as a distinguished full professor at a major university, Jorgenson could not escape the academic blight of doctoral students. He had to maintain his cover, at least for now, and the
academic cred could one day prove useful, so he made his students research assistants and rarely had any use for them unless they had results to show him.
    The young bespectacled man outside claimed to have results, but Jorgenson’s university research, no matter how important, paled next to the potential of Tesla’s “lost”
inventions. Retrieving at least some of those inventions would be simple: just kill Nick Slate, take the objects from his attic, and be done with it. But the Man in Charge would not allow it.
Jorgenson’s orders were clear. Let the boy be. At least for now.
    “He will be dispensed with soon enough,” the old man had told Jorgenson. “The more he spins his wheels to gather the lost items, the less we’ll have to.”
    But “soon enough” wasn’t soon enough for Jorgenson, who knew something the old man didn’t: the boy was crafty. And clever. He had, more than once, outsmarted
Jorgenson’s superior intellect, which meant he was not to be underestimated. If he were allowed to gather too many of Tesla’s inventions—and figured out how to use them—he
and his friends would become formidable opponents. Such objects should not be left in the hands of children.
    And to make sure that they weren’t, it was best if those children were killed. Why couldn’t the old man see that?
    Once more came the timid knocking and the bespectacled student. “Dr. Jorgenson, I know you said to wait, but I need to teach an undergrad physics class in ten minutes…”
    Jorgenson sighed. “Very well.” He gestured for the young man to enter.
    The student held a shoe box. “I’ve been in charge of the TTT project. You know—the Titanium Testudine Trials.”
    “Ah! The tortoises.”
    The young man sat down across from Jorgenson, pulled from the shoe box three tortoise shells the size of coconut halves, and placed them on Jorgenson’s desk. All of the shells had a pale
metallic sheen about them.
    Jorgenson was curious to hear the results of the study, but he feigned absolute disinterest. “Just get this over with,” he said. “My time is more valuable than yours.
Don’t waste it!” He paused to gauge the effect of his tone on the student’s psyche and was pleased to detect a tremor in the region of the young man’s knees.
    “W-we induced rapid growth using your biotemporal field emitter, and infused the developing cells with titanium, using three different protocols.” He pointed to two of the shells.
“The first two specimens didn’t prove any stronger, but the third was the charm.” He tapped the last shell proudly.
    Jorgenson lifted one of the shells. The plastron—or underside—had been removed, leaving only the dome-shaped carapace. “And what happened to the creatures they held?”
    The student lowered his head as if in respect for the dead. “They gave their lives for science.”
    “Indeed,” Jorgenson said. “As must we all.”
    Then Jorgenson started sliding the three shells around on his desk, shuffling their positions again and again. “Are you watching closely? Keep your eye on the strongest one, the
‘charm,’ as you called it.” Jorgenson spoke rapidly, his voice taking on the cadence of a carnival barker. “That’s right, never take your eye off the shell, if you
don’t want to get shucked.”
    He stopped and leaned forward, smiling broadly at the younger man, who stared at the row of