Hope - Levy, Marc (web ebook reader .TXT) 📗

“We all do,” said Hope. “Loose screws are how the light gets in.”

“Then let’s just say he was the most enlightened guy I knew. We were neighbors. We grew up on the wrong side of town. There was fighting every night. The gangs ran the neighborhood, and me and Luke stuck together.”

“You were a fighter?”

“No, that’s why I wasn’t part of any gang. But Luke was big for his age, and he felt responsible for his little brother. He learned how to make sure people respected him. We got into a lot of trouble together until a science teacher straightened us out.”

“How old were you?”

“Eleven. Katzenberg, that was his name. ‘Call me Katz.’ He was a fascinating guy. He introduced us to this whole new world. Well, not exactly,” Josh corrected himself. “We already knew about science, but up until then, we had thought it was boring. My dad worked in an electronics factory. His job was to sort the faulty parts from the good parts. Luke’s dad was a qualified air-conditioning engineer. So you can just imagine: the idea of becoming a scientist was about as appealing to us as kissing my cousin.”

“Why? Was she ugly?” Hope smirked.

“She still is. Anyway, Katz got us into reading, and his enthusiasm made us want to learn more. He was a funny guy. Winter through summer, he wore this snot-colored corduroy jacket. I still don’t know how someone so sharp-minded could have such a bad sense of style. And his car! Don’t even get me started on his car,” Josh continued. “This dirty old Datsun. Everything about this guy was old. Except himself. He had this amazingly modern mindset. At the end of class, he sometimes did this thing that would have us doubled over laughing. When the mood took him, he would invoke this sorcerer, ‘the Great Koudaïe,’ calling on him to protect us from an evil tribe he called ‘the Sect of the Impossibles.’ He would go on and on and on, swearing that we would meet a huge number of people devoted to this cult, and he would beg us never to listen to them, to always prove them wrong. One day, he came to class with a little lemon tree. He got this idea that he wanted to grow lemons. He had told everyone all about it, so everybody made fun of him, because the only lemons you got in Baldwin came from the grocery store, shipped in from Florida. Anyway, he got us to make this small greenhouse, and we learned about solar lamps. Light therapy. Ever heard of it?”

“No, Josh,” Hope drawled. “I managed to get into one of the best science schools in the country, but I’m a total idiot.”

“Sorry . . . We spent the year watching over his lemon tree, and eight months later, we were selling lemonade at the school. He was the one who sensed that science was our calling. In our free time, Luke and I would steal spare parts from our dads, just for kicks. One day, we stole so much stuff, our pants were hanging off us. Mr. Katzenberg made us empty our pockets and tell him where we got our stash. He promised not to tell our parents, but on one condition: that we used the parts to make him something. We got to work sticking it all together, making something out of nothing. Our first invention was transforming an air-conditioning unit into a humidifier that automatically switched on below a certain moisture level. Obviously, the pieces we had—like the sensors—were faulty parts . . . Our humidifier worked well for the first twenty-four hours, but then it caught fire in Luke’s dad’s shed. Luckily, we were there to stamp it out. A little later, we developed a system that triggered windshield wipers into action at the very first raindrop, again with Katz’s support. We set it up on Luke’s dad’s car, although we were convinced he was going to be madder than ever. In fact, the opposite happened.” Josh smiled. “The next evening, his dad was waiting for us by the shed. And that was the moment that changed everything. Because he actually congratulated us. He said our invention was great, but a better version already existed. There was an issue with our windshield-wiper trigger cells: they blocked a good third of his windshield. He added that next time we went sniffing around in his workshop, he hoped it would be to invent something truly original. He didn’t care what that thing might be. He just wanted us to make sure we would never have to spend our lives repairing air conditioners. We saw something in his dad’s eyes: a glimmer of hope, and maybe even a call for help. Luke’s dad was so important to us, we couldn’t disappoint him. And you know the rest.” Josh shrugged. “We worked our asses off, and we’re still playing around with stuff today, trying things that are kind of unconventional, but much more promising than smart windshield wipers.”

“From lemon trees to nerve cells on silicon chips . . . You’ve come a long way,” said Hope.

“I can’t deny it. So did Luke tell you about our research?”

“He gave me a tour of your secret hangar. I met Flinch, who was even more intense than he is in class. You know, I had decided I wouldn’t be joining you. But I just changed my mind. I don’t know if working with your boyfriend is such a great idea, but I want to give it a go.” Hope reached out her hand.

“I think we should make love to celebrate our partnership. Hey, wait a minute,” Josh said, suddenly realizing what he had missed. “You saw the Center, but I’m the one who convinced you with my lemon-tree story?”

“Not you. It was one part your teacher and his corduroy jacket, two parts Luke’s dad.” Hope lifted up her shirt.

The next day, Hope summoned