“You must know this, Joe,” his father admonished. “You are a Tesla. The world expects greatness from you: brilliance, wisdom, and courage.”
“None of the other kids in the show know any of this.” Joe set down the pencil and crossed his arms.
A muscle in his father’s jaw throbbed, and Joe flinched.
“Let me get you a glass of milk.” His father rose and went to the tiny refrigerator. “You’ll think better with some milk.”
Joe didn’t see how milk could help his thinking, but knew better than to say so after his father made that face. His mother was away rehearsing in the tent, and he and his father were alone in the trailer. His father was meaner when they were alone.
His father filled the milk glass, a jelly glass with Barney Rubble painted on the front, but instead of bringing it to the table, he turned his back and hunched his shoulders.
Joe looked out at the red-and-white striped tent pitched several yards away. He’d be safer there. Farnsworth would let him feed Binky the elephant if he shoveled out her cage. Farnsworth was the veterinarian who looked after the circus’s animals, and sometimes the people. Farnsworth drank like Joe’s dad, but it didn’t make him angry. It made Farnsworth funny.
His father set the glass next to Joe’s work. The white milk shone against the pink scar in his palm.
“How did you get that scar on your hand?” Joe asked, as he had often before.
“Hubris.” His father gave his usual answer. “Now drink up.”
Joe took a sip. The milk was so cold it made his lips numb.
“Drink it up,” his father ordered. “It’s good for you.”
Joe drank. His lips and tongue felt weird for a minute, but the feeling went away.
“Now, back to work,” his father said.
Joe ran over the elements, their numbers a blur of colors in his head. He ran his finger across the elements he had completed: Hydrogen, Helium, Beryllium, Boron, Carbon, Nitrogen, and Fluorine. That was a good start.
His heart skipped a beat, then raced. He remembered all the elements at once. He had to get them down before they disappeared. His hand flew across the paper. He filled in square after square. He’d never felt so sure, so smart. His brain raced along like greyhounds he’d once seen at a track. They were nothing but gray streaks.
The door opened, and his mother came in. Her hair was up in a bun like it was when she performed, but she was wearing her old red leotard, the one she wore for practice. The tights had a hole in the left knee.
“What are you writing so fast over there?” she asked. “Secrets?”
“It’s the periodic table of the elements,” he said. “I’ve completed the first four rows, and I have three more to go, and then I’ll be on to the man-made ones. Can you imagine doing that? Smashing together things to create a whole new element? One that never existed in the whole universe before, and one that will only be around for a tiny slice of time? But it would still be there, and you would know you made it.”
She looked between him and his father, and her brows drew down like they did when she was angry. But why? He’d learned the elements. He was being a Tesla.
“Come see.” He lifted the paper to show her, but he was moving too fast, and it ripped. Just a tiny bit on the edge. He could tape that back together. “I thought of drawing in pictures of what the elements actually look like in real life, but I only know it for a few of them, so I didn’t do it because I thought they wouldn’t all match.”
His mother’s cool hand cupped his chin, and she looked down into his eyes. Her eyes were clear brown, like the tea she drank every day with breakfast. Right now trouble shifted behind her eyes, but he didn’t know why.
She let go of his chin and looked at his father. When she spoke, she used the super calm and deep voice she used when she was really angry. “What did you give him?”
“Just milk.” His father looked at his scuffed shoes. Joe could tell he was lying.
“Men in this circus will beat you until you tell me,” she said.
Joe jerked his head up. “I’m fine. I feel great. My mind is sharp and clear and fast and good. There’s nothing wrong. Nothing at all.”
“Coke?” His mother’s calm voice was directed to his father. She ignored Joe.
But his father hadn’t given him Coke. They didn’t even have soda in the trailer. That was for suckers. You could charge them a fortune for sugar water. His father always said so.
“Tatiana—”
“How much?”
The question hung in the air, until finally his father’s face crumpled up, and he spoke. “Maybe a quarter gram. Not much.”
She touched Joe’s shoulder. “We’re going to see Farnsworth, Joe.”
His father stood, too, as if he were coming along.
“When we come back,” she said to his father, “you will be gone from this place.”
“I don’t have a car.”
“If you are still here, I will feed you to Merle. And no one will stop me.”
Merle was the lion Joe had been warned to stay away from. Not that he needed any warning. Merle spent his days pacing his cage, snaking his paw out whenever anyone came close, and peeing through the bars. They’d bought him a few months before and were looking for a sucker to unload him on. Merle would eat his father, no problem.
“Don’t hurt him,” Joe said. “He didn’t do anything.”
“Enough.” She put her hand on top of Joe’s head and pulled him in closer to her. He stopped arguing.
“You will vanish, George,” she said to his father. “Or I will make you vanish.”
Edison nudged Joe’s shoe. He put down the spoon, packed away the memory, and petted the dog.
Chapter 7
Quantum stopped at a park bench to stretch his calf muscles. He’d been keeping an eye on the entrance to the Waldorf Astoria hotel and on a suspicious gray-bearded hippie sitting on a bench in front of it. The guy had a Wall Street Journal, which didn’t match his outfit, and he’d been pretending to read it while glancing at the hotel door every minute or so. Not subtle.
Quantum was here to watch for a certain woman to leave the hotel. After she left, he had orders to search her room for documents in Nikola Tesla’s handwriting, and also for the Oscillator. Ash had given him the assignment, and he was thrilled to be trusted with something this important.
He leaned into the stretch, thinking about Ash. He hadn’t managed to uncover much about him, but he was willing to bet that the guy was loaded. His Spooky actions always started with insider knowledge. Ash knew what happened off-line in the corridors of power and then used his online teams to screw things up. He was powerful in ways that Quantum only dreamed about. But maybe Ash would share some of that power and wealth. Whether he wanted to or not.
The old hippie shifted on the bench. He wore faded jeans and a gray NYU hoodie, and he had a beard like a wizard. He looked like Quantum had always pictured Geezer. What if he was Geezer? What if Ash had sent them both here? A prickling in Quantum’s neck told him not to discount the possibility.
He’d lived through four foster homes, a violent older brother, and a couple of stints in prison. He knew to trust his instincts for danger. But that didn’t mean he was going to wimp out.
Quantum wiped sweat off his forehead. More sweat replaced it. He didn’t much mind. He’d spent every summer in New York, and he’d done without air conditioning for most of them. If he played his cards right, he’d end up living in air-conditioned splendor one day. He bet Ash lived in air-conditioned splendor all the time.