Eye of the Storm by Kate Messner Read Free Book Online Page A

Sim Dome in action, and the answer is now. Show me what you’d do if I turned this entire dome over to you for one simulation.” He hands the last DataSlate to Tomas.
    â€œWhat are we doing with these?” Risha asks.
    â€œYou’re formulating a theory about the effect that a given variable has on storm formation. Then I’d like you to design a simulation to test it.”
    Tess Beekman squints at him. “I don’t get it.”
    Van sighs. “There’s a simulation program loaded on each of these DataSlates. It will ask you for a theory. You need an if-then statement. For example, if you think that raising the temperature in the atmosphere will cause a storm to move more quickly, you select that theory.
If
the temperature is raised x degrees,
then
this will happen. Then you design a simulation. Don’t worry—the software will walk you through the steps. Essentially, you’ll be telling the Sim Dome what conditions to create in the atmosphere above our model town, and then you’ll see what effect that has on the storms.” He looks around. “At least some of you will. We’re only going to run the most promising simulations in the dome.” He looks back at Tess. “Understand now?”
    She shrugs. “Kind of.”
    â€œOkay then. Get to it.” He looks at his watch. “You have one hour.” He heads for the staff computer in the corner of the room.
    The DataSlate suddenly feels heavy in my hands. This isn’t a quick question I can raise my hand to answer or a click-the-right-response exam. It’s an actual problem with no solution in sight, and I’m supposed to come up with one.
    Risha sits next to me on the bench, her fingers already flying over her DataSlate, words pouring onto her screen. I look down the row of DataSlates in laps. Everyone else is inputting text.
    My heart feels like it’s thumping out that frantic stream of numbers from Risha’s bracelets, but I open the Sim Dome software and stare at the blank text box with “Theory” written at the top.
    The only sound is the hum of fans and the tapping of fingers, reminding me that Eye on Tomorrow is in a different league. This is a place for people with theories.
    I stare at the empty box and panic. I may have a head full of ideas, but none of them are my own. My parents are the scientists; I’m the kid who loves to read, who can always get a hundred on the test when the answers are supplied ahead of time. But here, we are starting from nothing.
    I look down the row. The anxious boy with the brush cut types a few words. Looks at his watch. Types a few more. Rubs his finger under his lower lip. Looks at his watch again. Just being near him makes me nervous.
    There must be something. Some theory I can test.
    If. Then.
    If. Then.
    If something, then . . . what?
    I close my eyes and imagine the storm from my first night here. The one that never touched Placid Meadows.
    If a housing contract promises storm-free living, then the tornadoes stay away.
    If a company builds a magic fence around a neighborhood, then the residents live happily ever after.
    None of it makes sense. What’s keeping the storms at bay? Where do they go when they turn away from the fence?
    If. Then.
    Where could the storms go that wouldn’t hurt anyone?
    Not away. But up.
    Back into the sky.
    If. Then.
    What makes a tornado go away?
    I close my eyes. The DataSlate is still cool in my hands, but the rest of me breathes in the memory of hot, humid air. An August night, five, maybe six years ago, watching a storm in the distance with Dad. It loomed, big and dark, over the Adirondacks, heading east across the lake to Vermont. We creaked back and forth on the porch swing as the thunder grew louder.
    We watched that storm swell bigger, watched it uncurl a long, dark arm that wrapped around the sky and started spinning. It dropped down from the cloud, then stretched into a longer, skinnier