“Whoa,” said Katie.
Lily shook her head.
Then the teleporter blinked one last time. Mrs. Dash stood inside.
Her atoms had just flown through the vast emptiness, past asteroids, past warm worlds where weird flowers unfurled toward alien suns. She had been hurled across the universe.
Now she stepped out into her son’s bedroom.
She unclipped her helmet and took it off. She fluffed and pressed at her careful hair. “What a terrible, terrible day this has been,” she said. She looked around at Jasper’s stuff.
The bed had collapsed. The outer wall of Jasper’s room was blackened and blown up. The cold winter wind blew in.
But they had all made it back alive. They stood in the smoke, looking around at the wreckage of Jasper’s furniture.
“Gosh,” said Katie.
Mrs. Dash said, “I guess someone has got to clean his room.”
Lily pointed out, “You’re going to need a new wall.”
Mrs. Dash grimaced and looked around. “This house could do with a change anyway. As an example, those curtains have got to go. For one thing, they’re on fire.”
She went and leaned out the broken wall, looking at the rubble and glass fragments on the snow below. “This house is a mess. I have devoted myself to its upkeep, and still, the carpets are getting moldy, the windows are scratched and frosted over—where they haven’t been blown out—and now we need structural concrete work. House of the future: I cannot stand it. I simply cannot.”
She walked over to the teleporter. “And this thing.” She didn’t have to say another word. Jasper joined her, and mother and son began pulling the teleporter apart piece by piece. Mrs. Dash shook her head, yanking handfuls of wires out of the engine. She asked her son for a screwdriver, and he handed it to her.
“Mother?” said Jasper.
“Darling.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t clean up. Maybe we should, I don’t know, rebuild the house of the future differently from what it was before. Something new.”
Mrs. Dash paused her work, shocked. “Jasper, are you serious?”
Jasper looked down. “I’m sorry for suggesting it, Mother.”
“Sorry? No, Jasper, that’s a wonderful idea! I’ve wanted to change the house for so long—but I was always worried you would miss the way it used to be! You do like things to stay the same.”
“Maybe, but I have a million ideas for hidden rooms and household gadgets,” said Jasper. “And I think more of the house could float in the air.”
“That’s wonderful, honey!” With a wide smile on her face, Mrs. Dash turned back to hacking at the teleportation crystal with the point of the screwdriver. “Why, maybe we could add an observatory for the roof! I’ve always wanted one with just a little telescope so I can pick up my old astronomy work. And we could put a high-energy particle collider in the rec room! I’ve had my eye on one for so long. . . .”
“Why, sure!” said Jasper. “Right when I get back from chasing down the Garxx of Krilm. And turning them in to the interplanetary police.”
Mrs. Dash’s smile dropped. “Jasper, you cannot go rocketing off alone to chase those bug-eyed thugs.”
“But I’ve got to,” said the Boy Technonaut.
Lily was sorry to hear that just when they had gotten back from all that danger, Jasper wanted to leave them again. She was sad to think about him alone so soon, in the huge, empty reaches of space, drifting through infinite coldness and darkness.
“Hey, Jasper,” she said softly. “Are you sure you want to go back out again so soon? I mean, won’t you feel lonesome?”
Jasper was just about to answer when Katie said, “Hey, Dashes! The fire department is here.” She pointed out through the hole in the wall. A bunch of guys in helmets were looking up at the smoke. “And there’s Mr. Krome. From school.”
“Hello?” came the principal’s voice. “Is everyone okay in there?”
The Dashes stood up and went to the ruined windows. They waved down to the firemen and Mr. Krome. “Yes, thank you, boys,” said Mrs. Dash. “We’re just dandy. It was interstellar thieves, is all.”
Mr. Krome explained, “I was coming over to see how Jasper was. . . . He seemed a little upset yesterday at the science fair . . . and then I saw the wall explode, so I called the fire department.”
Jasper smiled proudly. “This time, it wasn’t an experiment of mine that caused the explosion, Mr. Krome! It was space-faring rascals!”
Mr. Krome didn’t look very comforted by that. “Oh, sure . . . Great . . . Well, if everything’s okay then . . .” He shuffled from foot to foot in the snow.
“It was very nice of you to come by,” said Mrs. Dash, leaning against a burning wall and waving. “Extremely kind.”
Mr. Krome nodded. “Do you need help with the, um, broken glass? Or the dresser that’s on fire behind you?”
Mrs. Dash thought for a moment. Then she said, “That would be delightful, Mr. Krome. Climb right up the rope ladder.”
As he clambered up, Mrs. Dash said to Jasper, “I’ll take care of things here.” She had a twinkle in her eye. “I have a little idea. Do you think, Jasper, instead of chasing the Garxx of Krilm yourself, you could just go up in space and report their plans to the interplanetary police?”
“I could.”
“Well . . . Why don’t Katie and Lily talk to their parents and see if they’re allowed to go with you, then? There won’t be any danger, right? You’ll just be flying up, talking to the police up there, maybe taking in a few of the sights, and coming right back here. You could make a little jaunt out of it.”
“That sounds great!” said Katie, and Lily’s eyes were wide with pleasure beneath her bangs.
Jasper said, “Mother! That’s a swell idea! All three of us together! I promise, absolutely promise, we won’t chase the Garxx ourselves.”
Lily asked, “Mrs. Dash, are you really okay with us leaving? Don’t you want some help cleaning up around here?” The curtains quietly crackled. Snow blew in through the huge hole in the busted wall and the blasted windows.
“Oh, don’t worry about that, girls,” said Mrs. Dash. “Every house can use a good airing out in midwinter.”I
* * *
I “The house is winterized,” says Mr. Galbatta, who owns the place your family is renting. “We come up here sometimes around New Year’s to air it out a little. Go skiing. Go skating. It’s a great place in the winter.”
You’re all packing up and about to leave. Your vacation is over. Mr. Galbatta is there to pick up the front door key from your family and lock the place up.
You have to be back in school soon.
There’s a question you want to ask Mr. Galbatta.
The others are taking a last look at the lake. Mr. Galbatta is digging around in the rain gutter with his hand, pulling out clumps of dried leaves. You put your duffel bag in the back of the car. Then you unzip it and take out Jasper Dash and His Marvelous Electro-Neutron Sled. You go over to Mr. Galbatta and say, “Excuse me?” You explain that you got these books at the church rummage sale, but that the books originally came from this house.
“That’s right,” said Mr. Galbatta. “Funny. We just got rid of them. Look at ’em: back like a bad penny.”
You ask him who Busby Spence is.
“Oh,” he says. “Buzz Spence. My wife’s dad. Yeah. Great guy.”
You ask what happened to him when he grew up.
“He worked in the tech industry. You know, building stuff. Early computers. That kind of thing. He was good with all that.”
You ask whether Mr. Spence wants his books back.
“Naw,” says Mr. Galbatta. “He’s dead. He died of lung cancer a while back. So the books are yours. He’d, uh, he’d want you to have ’em.”
You wonder. You open the book and look at the name written in bad handwriting on the inside of the cover: “Busby Spence.” It’s a child’s handwriting. “1942.” It has been a long time since then.
> You think of Buzz Spence the old man, making coffee in this house or mowing the grass. He would want you to have the books, sure.
Then you try to think about Busby Spence the kid. A kid about your age. You look at his house, at his name written in pencil. It’s almost like he’s staring back at you through the angular glass of the Second World War, like you are part of a conversation with him—with him and with Jasper Dash—the three of you—all telling tales—all pals—all in this story together.
Sure. He’d want you to have the books. They’re a message from another time. A communication from a very different world.
You stow the book in your bag and run down to see Busby Spence’s lake for the last time.
GOOD-BYE
Late that night, Jasper Dash, Lily Gefelty, and Katie Mulligan left the planet Earth.
They took supplies in three picnic baskets. Jasper opened one of his underground bunkers and raised up a slim silver rocket that would take them to the stars.
The forest was dark and cold, but the rocket was lit up like sleek Christmas. The bare branches of the trees were rackety in the wind.
As they lugged their space suits and picnic baskets up the ramp, Katie said, “Jas, I think your mom has the hots for Mr. Krome.”
Jasper stopped in his tracks, astonished. “Well,” he said, a little uneasily, “that’s good, I guess. Mr. Krome is a fine, upstanding figure in the community.”
Katie playfully bumped him with her picnic basket. “What if Mr. Krome ended up as your father-like-thing!”
Jasper looked thoughtful.
They came down the ramp again to bid their parents good-bye for a day or two—long enough to get to the nearest interplanetary police station so they could report the Garxx.
The Mulligans were there, and Mr. and Mrs. Gefelty, and Mrs. Dash, all dressed in warm coats.
Standing by his spaceship, the Boy Technonaut announced nervously, “I did want to say one thing before we left. Look . . . I want to say . . . I’ve been thinking about my family. I don’t need a father from outer space.I But I need cousins.”
“Two eyes apiece?” said Katie. “With hair and with skin? Or are you talking the kind of cousins that have giant fins and eat vans?”
“No. I need two human cousins . . . almost like sisters. Would you . . . would you be related to me?”
Katie and Lily grinned. “Of course!” said Katie, and Lily said, “That would be great!” Lily pushed the hair out of her eyes and gave her friend, her new cousin, a big smile.
“Cousins forever,” said Jasper.
Katie said, “We’re family.”
“Cousins in space!” said Lily joyfully.
They all hugged and slapped one another on the back, like cousins do. Katie and Jasper even slapped each other too hard on the back, like cousins do, and then on the backs of each other’s heads, and then kicked each other’s shins.
Jasper stood up straight and put on his helmet. Lily thought that he had maybe grown a little since he had left for Zeblion III. He was a little taller. A little closer to fourteen years old, after all these decades.
They were all growing up.
It was time to blast off. It was time to say good-bye.
They hugged their parents. “Have a wonderful time in space!” said Mrs. Gefelty, waving a mitten. She gave Lily a kiss.
As Mrs. Dash hugged Jasper, she said, “I know I usually wait for you at home when you’re away. But I was wondering . . . would you mind terribly, Jasper, honey, if I went out to lunch tomorrow with Mr. Krome?” Suddenly she blushed and added, “Of course, just to thank him for helping to clean up the mess today.”
Jasper held his mother tight and said, “That’s a wonderful idea, Mother. And remember, you can take my Astounding Atomic Telephone Cart—my nuclear mobile phone—so we can give you a call the moment we get to the space station!”
“Honey, thank you. Thank you for the phone, and thank you for letting me go to lunch.”
“Letting you? I hope you have a swell time! You might want to book two tables, because the phone will take up a lot of the restaurant.”
Yes, Lily thought. Jasper is definitely getting older. He saw her smiling at him, and he smiled back.
Grinning with the thought of all the adventures still in front of them and all the years that were behind them, they pulled one another happily up the ramp and into the spaceship.
The ramp swung up into the bottom of the ship, and they were hidden from their parents’ view.
In a minute, the engines started—a loud roar.
Mrs. Dash waved heartily. She was proud of her boy. She couldn’t wait until he got back so they could start planning a new house of the future.
The rocket lifted off. It cleared the tops of the trees. It hung there above the winter wood.
It glinted in the moonlight. It slid up toward the stars.
We are left behind, here on Earth. While you are going through your day tomorrow, working on algebra or eating your lunch or sitting on the bench during a soccer game, they will be traveling out in space. They’ll be walking through the sloped corridors of a spinning space station. Or they’ll be dipping into the yogurt-thick clouds of Jupiter, or cracking jokes with the clawed miners of Io. They’ll brave the hazards of Saturn’s rings. They’ll stand, three tiny figures, on the diamond icebergs of Neptune.
Lily, who is a very nice person, will make sure they don’t tell the Plutonians that Pluto is no longer a planet.
But you will go have your own adventures. Life is long, and the world is wide and full of secrets and surprises. This planet is large enough for a million lifetimes.
Lily, Jasper, and Katie’s parents stood in the white clearing next to a circle of burned moss. They craned their heads up. They were filled with a sense of how far other worlds were, and how their children had to fly such a long time to get there.
The spaceship soon could not be picked out of all the stars in the Milky Way. There were so many possibilities, and each distant place looked so very, very small.
* * *
I A week after Busby Spence chucked the god of luck into a bin of scrap metal to be melted down into ack-ack shells, he was sitting in his room, drawing endless circles on a piece of paper, when his father knocked quietly. Busby Spence said to come in.
Busby’s dad came in and sat on the bed. He had Jasper Dash and His Astounding Rocket Socks in his hand. When Busby’s father finally talked, he said, “Buzz, I was, uh, I was reading this book. You left it downstairs. It was pretty good. I . . . I like how Jasper Dash, the character, how he invents things. I think that’s swell. That he invents things.”
Busby didn’t know what to say. For one thing, Jasper Dash and His Astounding Rocket Socks was one of the only stupid Jasper Dash books in the whole series. No one liked it.
Busby’s father said shyly, “You know, if you want to, if you’re interested, I can build a radio with you. Like Jasper Dash. You know, I was in charge of radio communication . . . out there. In the Pacific. All sorts of . . .”
Busby’s father fell silent.
Busby shrugged.
His father said, “We could build a radio with an oatmeal container.”
“An oatmeal container?” said Busby. “How?”
“I’ll show you. Good old American know-how.”
Busby Spence nodded. He felt as shy as his father. “Okay,” he said. “I guess.”
They went down to the basement. Busby’s father kept his tools there. They got his soldering iron and some other stuff. Then they went up to the kitchen and poured all the oatmeal out of its container. They left the dry oatmeal in a bowl.
Busby sawed off a piece of board to build the radio on. He had never been so happy to saw. They took a crystal—tiny, but a real crystal, brushed by a cat’s-whisker wire. They fastened it to the board and clipped wires to it. Busby’s father explained about the carrier wave and the audio wave and how the crystal stripped the carrier wave so the audio message was left behind. Then B
usby had to wrap copper wire very tightly around the oatmeal container to make a tuning coil. It wasn’t easy. The wire kept springing loose. His father said, “Tighter you can get it, the clearer the signal will be.”
Busby wrapped the wire as tightly as he could. He wanted to do the best job possible.
His father said, “Great, Buzz. Great.”
Busby’s mother stood and watched them. She didn’t complain that they were building their radio on the kitchen table. They attached an antenna wire to the board and Busby unwound it, trailing it across the kitchen floor and up the stairs. He asked where the radio’s plug was or the batteries.
“Don’t need either one,” said his father. He opened the cabinet door under the sink. “The sink’s part of it. ’Everything but the kitchen sink.’ You heard that? With this radio, it’s true. You got to attach the ground wire to the metal pipe coming out of the sink.”
Busby unspooled the wire and wrapped it around the pipe. “So there’s no battery or anything?” he asked.
“No,” his dad explained. “There are signals all around us in the air all the time. You just catch them. Some people can pick them up with their teeth.”
Busby was amazed. He was thrilled. It was ready, and he and his father had built it together.
He picked up the little earpiece. There were radio waves sifting through both of them and through their little house, signals from the cities of Boston and New York and a hundred little stations across the thrumming nation, and now this little crystal caught those waves. There were pulses of silent talk, silent music, stories going on all around them all the time. There was a world out there, unseen. And they were about to hear it speaking.