Nikolas and Company Book 1: The Merman and The Moon Forgotten

Chapter One

Nikolas Lyons. If you turn the key, you turn the clock. If you turn the clock, you save me.

What? Nick jerked his head from under the machine. His grandfather’s work shed held all sorts of twenty-first-century antique motherboards, microwaves, cappuccino machines, key-making machines.

And none of them could speak.

If you turn the key, you turn the clock. If you turn the clock, you save me, repeated the voice.

Nick dropped the magnodriver and sat up. He really had heard a voice. More specifically, he’d heard a woman’s voice. It couldn’t have been his mom. She was out on one of her global shopping trips with his dad, which he’d counted on. She didn’t like it when Nick got into his grandfather’s work shed and started messing around with all the antique electronic devices. But Nick had to finish the machine. It would change everything for him.

If you turn the key, you turn the clock. If you turn the clock, you save me.

I’m losing my mind, Nick said, blowing blond hair out of his face. I can’t lose my mind, not yet, at least. Finish the machine. Get off this planet. Then I can lose my mind.

In order to finish the repairs to his machine, Nick had resorted to the Nick Lyons Living-Dead Power Formula: three parts soda, two parts energy drink, and six parts chocolate syrup chased down with Pepto-Bismol. But that wouldn’t cause hallucinations … right?

If you turn the key, you turn the clock. If you turn the clock, you save me.

Nick looked to his feet. The voice had come from under the floorboards. Ha, ha, Tim. Funny. I can totally hear you under there. His older brother was probably messing with him. That’s all.

If you turn the key, you turn the clock. If you turn the clock, you save me.

Nick squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again.

I am not hearing voices right now… I can’t hear voices.

You seem disturbed, Nick? said a motherly digital voice. A white box with two multi-purpose arms and the holographic head of a middle-aged woman floated toward him. Nick let out a frustrated breath. It was his nannydrone.

There had been so many incidences involving the blowing up of antique appliances on the Lyons’s property that the local fire department insisted Nick’s parents post a nannydrone with him at all times. They were clearly overreacting. No one died in the blasts. Didn’t make much of a difference for Nick though. The drone was as dumb as a box of bolts. 

Nick found the magnodriver wedged between a crate and the wall. He grabbed it, wiped off the dust and cobwebs, and went back to work.

Again. Why are you disturbed, Nick, the nannydrone pressed.

I’m not disturbed. I’m busy. The SpaceNow rep is coming at two, and my machine isn’t ready. Nick got down to a knee and undid one of the machine’s screws with his finger. I have a plan.

Ah. Yes, Nick. The plan. I remember. The nannydrone spun and moved toward the far wall with the words THE PLAN scribbled on it. Below were several other note cards, each with their own words and a checkmark:

√ Finish Machine

√ Collect SpaceNow Prize

√ Escape planet and start new life with friends

This plan, Nick, it kept its digital eyes on the board. It is naive.

What did you say?

You are a thirteen-year-old boy with little experience in engineering or technology, Nick. The chances of you winning SpaceNow’s plot of land on the moon and one billion dollars is, well, a billion to one. You are naive, Nick.

Nick tried not to drive the magnodriver into the nannydrone’s condescending faceplate. He said, gritting through his teeth, It’s like every adult thinks a teenager is naive because we dare think there’s a better life out there?

I am not an adult. I’m not even human. My conclusion came from an advanced quantum computer streaming through the globalnet. It is the one-hundred terabytes of information per second flowing into my positronic brain that has concluded: Nick Lyons is naive.    

Shut up!

Or maybe you are mentally disturbed. The nannydrone extended a multipurpose arm with a small probe. The probe activated its bio-scanner, which appeared as a fan-shaped laser, and shoved it between Nick’s face and the machine. The laser swept back and forth, blinding him several times.

I’m tired of this planet. I’m tired of these people. I want out. Is that OK with you?

It is not my feelings on the subject you should be worried about, Nick, the nannydrone said. It is your mother’s. I have been collecting Sonya Lyons’s social media messages regarding your attempts to run away. Would you like me to read them out to you, Nick?

Please don⁠—

April 27th, the nannydrone ignored him. At 3:14 pm, your mother wrote on her Friendme account. In a perfect mimic of her voice, the nannydrone quoted,

What-ever! Caught Nick trying to break into my bank account last night. I found him creeping through my account, running one of those account-crack apps. Ugh!!! Where does he even get these programs? He was two clicks away from buying ten moon shuttle tickets to the Lunar Colonies AGAIN! Trying to help his refugee friends escape the camp. Next time I’m gonna let him go. Anyone want a thirteen-year-old mentally disturbed demon boy? Lol!!!!

June 2nd. 10:15 pm.

Yep. Demon-boy almost lit Hiker’s Canyon on fire. Of course. Oh, and he torched the neighbor’s greenhouse. It is gone. GONE. Thank goodness for pyrodrones. Seriously.

June 3rd. 1:23 am.

Lighting Hiker’s canyon on fire, remix. Again, pyrodrones put it out before every person sued us on the block. Found out he was messing around in the old tech shed. Blew something up. Probably trying to build a space shuttle. Seriously, that boy is the fuel of nightmares. #mysonisafuturemanhunt.

June 27th. 9:10 am.

OK. You seriously cannot pay me enough to put up with demon-boy. Airport security arrested the boy for trying to hook a leech pod to a Moonshuttle. Trying to sneak all his little refugee friends on there. Thought he could hitch a ride ON THE HULL OF A SPACE SHUTTLE!! Who does that? Seriously. Am I the only mom who puts up with this crap? #WishIcouldrunaway.

His mother’s social status updates reminded Nick how often he had failed to run away. Maybe he should give up? What was the point?

Nick? the nannydrone approached. I ran a full brain scan, and it says you are emotionally frustrated, Nick? Is there anything I can do? How might I make you happy today?

Hug a power line. Nick swatted the probe away and returned to his machine.

Please wait while I process your request … A clock symbol appeared on her face. I am sorry, Nick Lyons. I cannot perform such a task.

Nick rolled his eyes. Of course, you can’t.

Oh dear, Nick. My biorhythm sensors now tell me you have been upset by an unidentified object within this very room.

Really? Wonder who that could be? Nick grumbled as he adjusted the settings on his magnodriver. Nannydrones really had the intelligence of a slug.

I am formulating a solution to your happiness, Nick, the nannydrone explained. This solution today is brought to you by Pappi’s Pudding Fingers. Lick your way to happiness. Due to a decreased level of serotonin in your brain, dilated pupils, and small but noticeable constipation⁠—

Gross, Nick scowled. Why would you even go there?

You would be best served by having a Pappi’s Pudding Finger. Chocolate.

The nannydrone buzzed to a locked fridge by the bathroom. Its multipurpose hand flipped and inserted a key. As part of an attempt to open another profit stream, the company, Lifedrone, distributed complimentary mini fridges filled stocked full of free Pappi’s products with their nannydrones.

Here is a Pappi’s Pudding Finger on a stick. No charge to you. The nannydrone rose to meet him at eye level. It held the Pudding Finger between two plastic fingers. Enjoy, Nick.

I don’t want it, Nick said, determined to finish the machine.

Ignoring him, the nannydrone unwrapped the pudding finger and smooshed it into his mouth.

Ugh! Nick wiped the dribbling chocolate from his face.

I can order a month’s supply whenever you’d like, Nick. The nannydrone thrust the Pudding Finger at him again.

Nick dodged it, crying, Stop! He began to suspect the nannydrone was suffering some kind of malfunction.

Lifedrone and Pappi’s have joined to offer a special deal just for you, Nick. The nannydrone smooshed the pudding finger to his lips again and again. Yummy, yummy to the tummy, Nick.

Dude, seriously. Nick wiped the pudding finger from his cheek.

See, yummy, Nick, The sound of SMOOSH came with every jab to his cheek. So yummy. SMOOSH. Yummy. Yummy. Yummy. SMOOSH. SMOOSH. SMOOSH.

I don’t have time for this, Nick finally bellowed and smacked the nannydrone’s arm. I have a demonstration this afternoon. The machine isn’t ready. Tim’s disappeared as usual, and I’m hearing voices. Get. Out. Of. My. Face!

 But … Nick, The nannydrone lowered the pudding finger slowly, everyone wants a Pappi’s Pudding Finger.

Nick sighed, I really need to get off this planet.

The nannydrone floated higher, its anti-grav motors purring as it studied Nick. He knew it was computing some way to get him to taste the pudding finger sample. He could hear the motors move closer; it leaned in slowly, cautiously …

The pudding finger rammed into his left ear. SMOOOOOSH.

I’M DONE! Nick leaped to his feet. A boy has his limits, he decided. He went over to the nannydrone’s mini fridge and picked it up.

What are you doing with that mini fridge, Nick? the nannydrone said. It is property of Lifedrone.

He marched to the large window overlooking Hiker’s Canyon and commanded, Open window. The glass swooshed open. He peered out the window to a fifty-foot drop.

There are nearly three thousand dollars of Lifedrone’s products in the mini-fridge, Nick. The nannydrone put up two concerned plastic arms.

Yeah, I know, Nick said. And what’s your primary protocol?

To observe and protect you, Nick. The nannydrone slowly moved toward the mini-fridge precariously hanging out of the window.

Wow. That’s a lie, Nick tisked. He began to tip the mini fridge over.

Disengaging deflect program, the nannydrone said. You are correct, Nick. My primary protocol is to try and sell you low-quality snacks at high-end prices.

So if I chuck this over the canyon, you’d have to save it?

Yes. I would have to save the Lifedrone produ⁠—

With no little pleasure, Nick raised his hand and let the mini fridge tip over. It tumbled three times in the air.

BANGG!! Came the sound of a boulder snapping the door open, flinging Pappi’s products into the air.

BANGG!! BANGG!

The second boulder sent the door flying away.

The mini fridge continued to bang and bounce against granite boulders until it came to a stop at a large pine tree.

The nannydrone lit its propulsions and flew out the window with arms outstretched. For a moment, it actually crested into the air. Still, Nick knew that while Lifedrone had installed its machines with many of the latest flight technologies, one technology it had not bothered to install in its nanny drones was the anti-gravitation system. It could only hover at five feet. Hiker’s canyon was fifty-five feet.

The nannydrone fell like a piano.

WHEEEBOOM!! It blew up on impact.

Nick watched the nannydrone’s battery pack explode into a greenish ball of flame. He smiled as a pyrodrone launched from some nearby stoop, its hoses aiming toward the flames.

Nick began to feel guilty as the nannydrone’s plastic skin melted into the pine needles. How many nannydrones had he taken out over the last couple of months? Twelve? How many times did a local hover-firetruck descend on their property because one of his experiments ended up in a fiery mess? Nick couldn’t help but wonder if he actually enjoyed blowing stuff up.

But a reoccurring memory stopped any guilty feelings about how he treated the drones. If it weren’t for the nannydrones, his best friend would still be alive. Jermaine didn’t deserve what happened to him. Nick hated the drones. If he had to take every single one of them out, he would.

Nikolas Lyons. If you turn the key, you turn the clock. If you turn the clock, you save me.

Not again. Nick considered something and looked back to the machine. Could the device be speaking to him? Maybe it was picking up one of those old-timey radio signals? Which was weird since they were banned in the late 2000’s.

He crouched down to the Viachron. Nick could see lights blinking deep within its belly while cables escaped from various holes only to be dragged back in. His brother, Tim, often referred to it as the greatest abuse of technology. To Nick, it was the machine that would finally get him and his friends off this planet.

Earth.

To put distance between planet Earth with all of its chaos was all Nick had thought about since last Christmas. That terrible memory came back to him again. The nannydrone is hovering over Jermaine—his hand reaching to Nick, mouthing the words help—Nick yelling to anyone who could hear.

Jermaine deserved better.

Nick shook his head. He couldn’t stay in that memory for long. It made him too angry. The only thing he could focus on right now was winning the SpaceNow prize and collecting his reward for a plot of colonial land on the moon for him and his friends.

Easy peasy.

Chapter Two

Machu Picchu, Peru

Tink. Tink.

Hollow … metal? Chadrick thought, then squeezed the shovel and tapped the dirt again. Tink. Tink. Tink.

Sweet! Chadrick yelped, throwing the shovel aside. He knew what he was supposed to do next. First, as a good archaeologist, he was to report his findings to the project leader. Then he was to begin the tedious work of gently clearing away the dirt from the artifact with a soft brush for at least a week.

He did neither.

Chadrick clawed the ground. Bits of rock shoved under his fingernails. Dirt flew into his nose. Teeth. Eyes.

All of them gave up on the Western site. Said I was an idiot, he thought, laughing to himself. Oh yeah, baby. Cigar-shaped, self-emanating alloy, just like the project leader told me. The oldest artifact on the planet right here in my little hands.

With one inhale, Chadrick blew and let out a small gasp. There was an engraving:

Property of Steward Nikolas Lyons

Nikolas Lyons? Chadrick winced. It’s written in … English? Can’t be. The artifact is over two hundred thousand years old. Way before modern English language was even a thing. Is this some kind of joke? He glanced over his shoulder. Only the