Chapter 13. In Which My Hangover Is Comparable to the Universe Reversing and Collapsing Back in on Itself
IN WHICH MY HANGOVER IS COMPARABLE TO THE UNIVERSE REVERSING AND COLLAPSING BACK IN ON ITSELF
Everything hurts.
“Rory.”
My throat feels raw.
“Rory.”
I am going to die.
“RORY.”
I whip my forehead off the lab table and glance around the Applied Dynamics and Optimization Laboratory. At the front of the room, Dr. Li stares me down.
“If you’re going to sleep,” she tells me, “return to your cabin.”
My spine straightens. Weak posture conveys hesitation. I nod as best I can without throwing up. When did today’s second test session start? I hadn’t noticed.
At my table, Christiana, Benedict, and Jade sit with equally half-lidded eyes and sunken frowns. I’m not the only one who screwed up at last night’s party.
While I was figuring out ways to distract Luca, there was always a possibility that the rest of my cabin would suffer the same fate. But in that case, I was supposed to take charge during the second test. Carry us through to the finish line.
How did I mess up this badly?
My memory is too fuzzy. When the bugle went off this morning, I woke up on my mattress, which awesomely had been stripped of its bedding.
According to Jade’s grumbles, someone stole all of ours during the party, most likely to sabotage us.
Maybe they thought we would freeze to death in the night, leaving one fewer team.
We didn’t freeze, but however badly we slept from the hangovers was multiplied tenfold by the lack of sheets and blankets. My cabinmates looked like they barely slept at all.
Our cabin was otherwise spotless, as if the party never happened. Felix was clueless when he returned from whatever secret date he went on by the canoe docks. No one ratted us out, either. The last thing I remember is that moment with Luca on the porch.
Mortification wallops me like a punch. Last night, my newfound idea to break Luca’s heart filled me with hope for a better future.
Now? I don’t think I have the stomach to go through with it.
I look to my right, where Luca’s team sits only a few tables away.
They’re listening to Dr. Li explain the rules of the second test, but they’re simultaneously playing with a paper spring, launching it across their desks.
Not a hint of hungover, exhausted, distracted energy.
Thankfully, we’re not directly against them in this week’s bracket.
We’re against Kappa and Lambda. If we don’t beat them this week, then mathematically, the odds of us being one of the two cabins who are selected to compete for the Medal of Victory in the fifth week may become impossible, even with two more tests remaining.
This should push me to go through with my heartbreaking idea. The Plan has never felt more at stake.
But my sober mind knows it’s just so cruel. Even to my enemy. Even at the brAIN Wars.
“This second test will be project based,” Dr. Li says. “Through this lab, we’ve explored the foundation of gait and stability in robotic mechanisms. Therefore, you will be expected to build a controllable, walkable quadruped robot within one hour.”
A project.
My stomach tenses. That requires more teamwork than a written test.
“You will also be expected to use mechanical linkage to convert the rotational motion of a motor’s shaft to the oscillating motion of the feet.
” Dr. Li gestures at a table pushed against the front wall, covered by a white sheet.
“There are all the supplies you need. Cabins will be ranked by how far and successfully each reaches in their attempt.”
I again examine my cabinmates, who are staring emptily into the distance. They look recently hit by cars. Who knows if they took in a single word of Dr. Li’s explanation?
Even if I yearn for death, I’ll need to lead this team to victory myself.
“Begin,” Dr. Li announces.
I instantly rise out of my chair to head toward the table of supplies, fighting against the lethargy in my muscles. It’s still not quick enough. Others have already beaten me and peeled back the tablecloth, revealing piles of gadgets.
I reach for the nearest DC motor at the same time as another hand.
Luca. He looks more put together than usual, wearing just a crisp white T-shirt and jeans. His letterman jacket is missing for reasons I refuse to think about. He shows me a sympathetic look. “Rough morning?”
I am going to hire a hit man on myself.
I lower my head so he can’t see the stress hives that may or may not be conquering my face. I should apologize for the surprise gift I gave his jacket—and likely whatever else transpired after that, which has woefully escaped my memory. But my brain short-circuits from the embarrassment.
I swipe as much as I can off the table—two geared motors, an Arduino, a breadboard, craft supplies, and whatever else finds my hands. “I’m fine. Amazing.”
I can feel Luca’s stare on me. Before he can respond, more people swarm the table, allowing me an out.
As quickly as I can, I return to my team’s lab table and set down my supplies. “Where should we start?” I ask loudly over the other teams’ panicked conversations, scrambling to devise a game plan.
No one responds.
I scan the three miserable people before me. “Guys, I know this sucks. But think about what’s on the line.”
“Thinking things through is important, isn’t it?” Jade snaps, but it seems pointed at Christiana. Her eyes cut Christiana’s way before returning to her bright pink nails, which she’s filing sharply enough to slit a throat.
Christiana sinks deeper into her chair. She refuses to make eye contact with me, her SaCella Tech sweatshirt hood raised high over her head.
Whatever their problem is, I don’t have the time to get into it.
At least Benedict is actually looking at me instead of reading a book like usual.
His dark circles prove that he’s tired, but he’s put together, his blond hair carefully styled back and abstract-print linen shirt carefully pressed.
He keeps staring at Luca’s cabin, though, like he’s more worried about them than us.
Biting my lip, I consider what we studied in Dr. Li’s lab this past week. Gait stability relies on fall prediction and prevention. Not just balance and control. Simply put, it all comes down to the legs.
I start with joints, grabbing a wooden dowel and a ruler.
Considering the equipment we’re working with, this robot’s legs will be comparable in size to Big Papa Huge Time’s.
Not very large. In a perfect world, we would take the time to measure several leg lengths to test linkage effectiveness.
With all my team apparently gone, and only fifty minutes left on the clock, that’s not an option.
“Christiana, test these,” I say, passing her additional wooden dowels and another ruler. Then I look to Jade. “Jade and Benedict, here are yours. We’ll compare in ten.”
Jade scoffs at the dowels like she’d rather deny the legitimacy of EMF meters in ghost hunting than touch them.
Thankfully, Benedict and Christiana take their dowels. They measure and cut them in slow motion.
I force myself to stay focused. To stay strong.
As the minutes tick by, I evaluate different positioning despite the sludge taking residence in my own brain.
I glue my first attempt at legs together at a ninety-degree angle, then cut a piece of Popsicle stick and attach it to the bottom to make a foot.
One leg turns into four, and then I’m ready to test them on the motors.
I find the clock on the wall again. Thirty-five minutes left.
“What have you all got so far?” I ask everyone.
Benedict startles at my voice beside him, and he nearly drops the dowel in his grasp. “Still working,” he says under his breath.
“Are you stuck?” I ask. This isn’t like him at all.
Benedict shakes his head. He angles his chair away from me.
Disappointment pinches my heart. Even a bit of sadness. Last night, Benedict and I talked through our problems. Now we seem back to square one.
Did I do something else wrong that I don’t remember?
Jade passes me her wooden dowel. Which is not shaped like a leg.
Instead, it’s a doll-like sculpture, brimming with an uncomfortable amount of life due to the craft supplies I brought over.
A smiley face is drawn at the top in permanent marker.
Black yarn hangs from the assumed head, and a metal rod is violently drilled through its center.
I glance at her. The doll. Her again. “What is this?”
“Christiana,” Jade says simply.
“What?”
“What the hell?” Christiana cuts in from across the table. She’s staring at the dowel—doll?—in horror. “Jade, I already told you that I’m sorry. What more do you want from me?”
“I don’t know,” Jade says, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Maybe go back in time and stop yourself from kissing me randomly, only for you to not actually mean it.”
A weary fatigue hangs in me. I remember them now, kissing on the bed only to flee into the woods.
Of course heartbreak is the reason. The peace party led to zero peace.
“What did I tell all of you?” I say, gritting my teeth to stop my annoyance from seeping into my voice. “Dating is the ultimate distraction. Now look.” I gesture at our desk of incomplete work.
Jade rises to her feet, her chair scraping loudly against the tile floor. “It’s not my fault that Christiana hides her lack of a heart behind cute, shy little smiles. If I turn my head for too long, I bet she’ll murder Big Papa Huge Time.”
Christiana’s mouth hangs wide. “What are you talking about?! I’m Expert Biomedical Science. I literally save animals.”
“Are you guys going to help me or not?” I ask them firmly.
“Not if Jade is here,” Christiana says.
Jade doesn’t respond. Just holds up her doll of Christiana and digs the metal rod deeper into its wooden stomach.
Benedict still slowly works on his dowel in a lifeless trance, as if he isn’t noticing any of this going down.
All right.
Tuning out their arguing, I assess what’s left of our project.
Hooking the legs to the body, attaching two circuits that work to control the robot’s speed with a joystick, and testing the gait and balance with code that has yet to be written.
The job of at least four people. But I guess I’m doing this myself.
First, I finish up the motor function, fastening the right wires to the right places.
I spend another ten minutes attaching my legs to form a slider-crank mechanism.
The last part, connecting a controller for direct control, only takes a few minutes.
As I place the finished robot on the table and plug motor pins into the battery connector, the legs spasm twice, then send the whole thing toppling over.
I frown at its crumpled body. The linkage geometry is off. I know it’s off. But my brain feels like it was cooked in a microwave. I can’t figure out why.
Cheers come from the other side of the room.
Luca and his teammates. Their robot walks aimlessly along the floor—rather, clambers like a crab.
Not the most efficient robot, but when there’s only an hour on the clock, that’s the best any of us will reach.
Once they connect that joystick, they’ll control their robot’s movements accurately. Finish with time to spare.
An emptiness forms in my stomach. There’s no way I can finish ours alone.
“Benedict,” I say over Christiana and Jade’s arguing. It’s the last name I want to say—the last person I want help from—but I refuse to let history repeat itself.
Benedict looks up at me. His dowel is still in his hands, even though I already moved on from that task several minutes ago. He didn’t notice?
“I get that Christiana and Jade are having an issue,” I say, continuing to work by ripping off my failed robot’s limbs. Not a second to waste. “But you? I understand that you still hate me and my family, but are you going to sacrifice a chance at the Medal of Victory because of that?”
Confusion crosses his sharp gaze, but I’m not sure why. He’s made his hatred clear. “I’m not trying to sacrifice a thing.”
“Sure. I know you’re at brAIN for a good reason. You told me.”
Benedict’s mouth squirms. Because I’m right.
“So, let’s focus,” I continue when he doesn’t respond, pointing toward Luca’s table. “Luca has pretty much finished his own robot for Cabin Gamma.”
A crease forms in Benedict’s forehead as if I’ve somehow struck a nerve. “Do you truly want to win this second test? Or are you merely concerned about Luca?”
I go still. “Huh?”
“I saw you and Luca spending a lot of time together last night.” He nudges his chin toward Christiana and Jade. “Which is quite interesting, considering you’ve commanded none of us to date. The rules don’t apply to you, I take it?”
Understanding finally hits me.
That’s why he’s mad.
“Look,” I start, “I think you’re mistaken—”
“No one has ever won over Luca Melendez,” Benedict interrupts, crossing his arms. “You should be intelligent enough to know that wasting your time on him is futile.”
Tension spreads through my whole body, cranking up my resentment tenfold. The subtext is clear: You aren’t good enough for him.
“Ten minutes left,” Dr. Li says from the front of the lab.
The announcement grounds me, and I swallow my emotions. Concentrating back on the table, I reattach a new leg to the robot, then set the robot on the floor for a test run. The new feet shift. Then move. The legs carry the robot toward the lab wall without any bumps.
Relief floods me. I won’t need Benedict.
I won’t need anybody.
I push back on the joystick to bring the robot to a stop. But it doesn’t. The robot rams straight into the concrete wall, over and over.
I stare emptily at it, all my relief seeping out of me.
“Too bad that isn’t Christiana,” Jade says, spotting the robot beating itself up.
“Wow,” Christiana mutters across the table. Her sweatshirt hood casts her face in shadows, but I can still make out just how much her eyes are shimmering. Tears. “Kissing you was the worst mistake of my life.”
Jade’s eyes widen. “What’d you say—”
“Whoa, guys,” I say, stepping between them and holding up a hand. “Stop.”
The two glare at each other, and a tense silence settles between them.
The robot continues to clunk against the wall.
Christiana eventually breaks it with a huff. She rises out of her chair, snatches her backpack, and heads out of the lab.
Dr. Li sends a curious look between her and us. Then toward our robot, which is still fighting hard to break through the wall. She jots down a note in her journal. Most likely, last place goes to Cabin Omega.