started.â
Chapter 6
The rest of the week flies past in a blur of computer screens, robotics, radar and satellite panels, stainless steel counters, test tubes, and greenhouses with more monitoring equipment than I could have imagined. Each day, Van leads us through a different research center on campus. Sometimes we do lab experiments and try out equipment. Van asks us questions along the way to see who might be best suited to each area of study.
I figured kids who have spent two and three summers here would be way ahead of me, but I can actually answer most of Vanâs questions. Especially when it comes to meteorology.
âYouâre doing great,â Risha whispers to me as we walk between buildings.
âThanks. Iâm surprised Iâm not further behind everybody whoâs been here before.â
âYouâre not behind at all,â Risha says, pulling open the door to the bio-botanicals building. âThe program this year is way more intense than what we did last summer.â
Even so, Risha knows the answer to almost every question in the bio-botanicals lab, where she spent last summer.
âAre you sure you want to switch to cloning?â I whisper.
She glances sideways at Tomas, smiles and shrugs at me, and answers another question. Her bracelets clink together whenever she raises her hand, and finally, when Van turns to explain some new kind of lower-carb sweet corn, I reach for her wrist. âWhat are the numbers supposed to be?â
She slips a bracelet off her hand and passes it to me. âItâs binary code, the sequence of ones and zeros they used to represent processing instructions for a computer.â
I run my finger along waves of numbers etched in the gold. âSo what will this tell a computer to do?â
âNothing.â She wiggles the other two off her wrist. âThis is just regular text.â She points to the first line of numbers on one bracelet. âSee this sequence?â
I read it aloud. â01011001.â
âThatâs
y
.â
âThatâs all one letter?â
âAnd then here . . .â She points to the second set of eight numbers, 01101111. â. . . is an
o
. It spells out, âYou must be the change you wish to see in the world.â Itâs a saying from some old Indian guy, Gandhi. My grandmotherâs always quoting him and trying to get me to read about him.â She waves at the air with her green-and-black-striped fingernails. âShe figured if she translated it into in a language I like, I might actually pay attention, so she had these made for me.â
âYour grandmother sounds awesome.â I try to imagine what Grandma Athena would be like if she were alive. What would she talk to me about? Risha slides the bracelets back onto her wrist as Van leads us down a hall toward the next lab.
âIs the code on your notebook a quote from the same guy?â I ask Risha.
âNo . . .â She pulls me off to the side, tips her head toward Tomas, and whispers, âItâs his name. In binary code.â
That makes me laugh. I should have guessed. âNow I understand why you like it, even if it isnât really used anymore.â
She shrugs. âNot everything has to be useful.â
I think about the book of poems in my nightstand. âDonât let my dad hear you say that. Youâll be tossed out of this place faster than you can blink.â
She laughs and pulls me along to catch up with the boys.
On our second visit to the Storm Sim Dome, Van skips the quiz and sits us down on a row of long benches along one wall. âInstead of asking you questions here to check on your knowledge, weâre going to try something else.â
He pulls a box of DataSlates from under the bench and starts passing them out. âThese are preloaded with the same software we have on the core system in the dome. Youâve all been asking me when youâll get to see the
Pierre V. Comtois, Charlie Krank, Nick Nacario