The Infinite Lives of Maisie Day E-Book

Christopher Edge

• Herausgeber: Nosy Crow
• Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Seitenzahl: 147

Beschreibung

How do you know you really exist? It's Maisie's birthday and she can't wait to open her presents. She's hoping for the things she needs to build her own nuclear reactor. But she wakes to an empty house and outside the front door is nothing but a terrifying, all-consuming blackness. Trapped in an ever-shifting reality, Maisie knows that she will have to use the laws of the universe and the love of her family to survive. And even that might not be enough... A mind-bending mystery for anyone who's ever asked questions. From the author of The Many Worlds of Albie Bright and The Jamie Drake Equation. Cover illustration by Matt Saunders. "Give this man his own place on the periodic table!" The Times

Leseprobe

For Chrissie, Alex and Josie For ever

“To see a World in a Grain of Sand And a Heaven in a Wild Flower Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand And Eternity in an hour”

William Blake

0

Some people say that everything began with a Big Bang, but for me, that’s the last thing I really remember.

A bang so loud it made me forget everything else.

Everything except for a red balloon floating up into a clear blue sky.

And then darkness.

1

The insistent beeping of my alarm clock pulls me out of a super-weird dream. Something about talking dolphins and the end of the world, I think.

It’s funny how that moment in a dream just before you wake up can seem like the most real moment there’s ever been. You completely believe that it’s true – that it’s really happening to you – even if you are talking to a dolphin at the time. But then when you open your eyes, the dream starts to fade straight away and all that you’re left with is a strange jumble of thoughts that don’t seem to make any sense at all.

Fumbling for the button on top of my alarm clock, I shake the last of the dream fragments from my mind, my eyes blinking in time with the numbers displayed on the digital screen.

9.00 A.M.

For a second I panic, wondering why nobody has tried to wake me up yet, but then I clock the date.

SATURDAY 9 JUNE

It’s my birthday.

Jumping down from my cabin bed, I pull open the curtains and sunlight floods into my room. Through the window I can see the gazebo that Mum and Dad have bought for my birthday party laid out across the lawn beneath protective plastic sheets, just waiting now for Dad to put it up. Over the back fence I can see the railway tracks, and beyond this the backs of the shops that lead up Cheswick Hill, the whole scene bathed in perfect summer sunshine.

I can’t stop myself from grinning. Today is going to be the best day ever. I’m ten years old.

The ancient Greek philosopher Pythagoras thought that the number ten was the most important number in the world. He basically invented maths using it and reckoned that the whole universe was built out of numbers. Pythagoras said that the number ten contained the key to understanding everything. So, if this is true, I reckon being ten years old is going to be pretty cool.

Maybe now that I’m ten, Mum and Dad will let me go to the shops on my own or even stay up late, just like Lily.

Lily’s my older sister. She’s fifteen years old and she hates me.

Mum and Dad say that Lily doesn’t hate me. They say she’s just a bit stressed at the moment because she’s revising for her GCSEs, but I don’t think this is a very good excuse. I passed GCSE maths when I was six years old, and physics, chemistry and biology when I was seven. Then I did my A levels and now I’m studying for a degree in Mathematics and Physics at the Open University.

The thing is I’m “academically gifted”. Apparently this puts me in the top two per cent of the population. That doesn’t mean I’m smarter than everybody else. I’m absolutely rubbish at French. I just love learning about how the universe works. Lily thinks this makes me a freak.

Like I said, she hates me.

Pulling on my dressing gown over my pyjamas, I head down the stairs. The house is so quiet. Usually Dad’s already in the kitchen by now, noisily cooking up one of his Saturday-morning fry-ups, while Mum sits at the kitchen table reading the newspaper.

I turn right at the bottom of the stairs, heading down the hallway and into the kitchen. Beneath my bare feet, the black-and-white tiles covering the floor feel freezing cold. I shiver. The kitchen table is deserted, the cooker standing silent as the empty work surfaces gleam. There’s nobody here.

I peer through the patio doors that lead out into the back garden, wondering for a second if Mum and Dad have sneaked out there to make a start on putting up the gazebo for my party later today, but there’s nobody there either.

Maybe they’re hiding somewhere and are going to jump out any minute singing “Happy Birthday” to me.

“Mum! Dad!” I call out. “Where are you?”

I stand still for a moment, ready to look all surprised when they suddenly appear. But nobody jumps out. The grin I’ve been wearing since I opened my bedroom curtains is slowly starting to fade. If Mum and Dad think this is funny, I’ve got news for them.

The living room is just as empty as the kitchen, the TV switched off and not a cushion out of place on the sofa. I’m not surprised that Lily’s not up yet, as she doesn’t usually surface until after ten at the weekend. It’s all to do with the fact she’s a teenager and the hormones in her brain that make her sleep late. Maybe that will start happening to me now that I’m ten. Now that I’m ten, everything might change.

I’ve done a circuit of the downstairs now: hall, kitchen, living room and back to the hall. If Mum and Dad really are hiding somewhere ready to give me a birthday surprise, then they’re running out of rooms. Our house really isn’t that big.

Standing at the bottom of the stairs, I call out again.

“Mum! Dad! This isn’t funny. Where are you?”

Still no answer – just a creepy silence that seems to fill the house. I shiver even though sunlight is streaming through the arch of tinted glass at the top of the front door behind me. Where is everyone? They wouldn’t have gone out without me. The excitement I felt when I sprang out of bed has now turned into a nagging sense of worry. I race up the stairs, two steps at a time, wanting this stupid game of hide and seek to be over already.

Heading round the landing, I push open the door to Mum and Dad’s bedroom.

The room is still in darkness, the curtains drawn against the morning sun, but in the light spilling in from the landing I can see that nobody’s here. The bedspread is pulled neatly across Mum and Dad’s king-size bed. It doesn’t look like it’s even been slept in.

The twisting worry that’s been coiling inside my stomach is now tightening into a tense knot of fear.

Doubling back along the landing, I glance back inside my bedroom and then peer round the bathroom door too, just to double-check. But both rooms are empty, the only living thing I can see is a spider scurrying towards the bath taps when I pull the shower curtain back.

I shiver again, the sunlight streaming through the bathroom window seeming to lack any kind of warmth. Something’s not right.

Back on the landing, I glance towards the second flight of stairs that lead up to Lily’s room in the attic. A NO ENTRY sign is stuck to the wall at the bottom of the stairs and beneath this Lily has written “NO SISTERS ALLOWED”.

She means me.

I wouldn’t normally dare to go anywhere near Lily’s room on a Saturday morning. Her rage can be positively volcanic if her weekend lie-in is disturbed. But this isn’t a normal Saturday. It’s my birthday and I want to know where everyone is.

“Lily!” I shout up the stairs, my words echoing off the empty walls. “Are you up yet?”

There’s no answer.

“Lily?”

More silence.

I glance at the NO ENTRY sign and then shake my head. This is an emergency.

Taking a step forward, I start to climb the stairs. Inside my head, I quickly flick through the excuses I’ll use when Lily freaks out at me for waking her up. I don’t know what I’ll do if she’s not in her room.

Our house is usually filled with noise, but this silence is really starting to get to me.

Then the doorbell rings.

I jump in surprise, but as soon as I realise what this means, a sudden wave of relief washes over me. This must be Mum and Dad. They must’ve got up early to get things ready for my party and then realised that they needed something from the shops. Leaving me and Lily in bed they popped out and are now back with bagfuls of party stuff and need me to let them in.

I race back down the stairs, skipping round the landing and then barrelling down the second flight of stairs. It’s time to get my birthday started at last.

Reaching the hallway, the sound of the front doorbell seems to stretch out as if someone has left their finger on it for too long. Then it stops abruptly and the air hums with absolute silence again.

It must be broken.

Feeling kind of puzzled, I fix a smile to my face, eager to find out exactly what Mum and Dad have got me from the shops.

But as I open the front door this smile is suddenly eclipsed as my lips stretch wide in a silent scream. The sound of my cheery hello curdles in my throat as I look out in horror at the scene outside.

There’s nobody there.

But worse than that, there’s nothing there.

No Mum. No Dad. No car parked on the drive. No driveway. No street. No houses.

Nothing at all.

Just an empty black space that goes on forever.

I stare into the darkness, trying to make sense of the impossibility of what I can see.

It doesn’t work.

I slam the door shut before my brain explodes.

Gasping for breath, I stand there swaying, my hand still gripping the door handle as I try to work out what’s going on.

Looking down I see a rainbow stripe of colours dappling the polished floorboards, the sunlight streaming in through the tinted glass creating this shifting pattern. But when I opened the front door there wasn’t any Sun in the sky. There wasn’t any Sun. There wasn’t any sky. There wasn’t anything.

Feeling really frightened now, I back away from the door. If there’s nothing out there, who was ringing the doorbell?

Stumbling down the hall, I retreat to the kitchen, slamming the door behind me to try and block out what I’ve just seen. Still shaking, I slump against the kitchen table, my fingers trembling as I cling to its edge to stop myself from falling down.

What’s happening?

2

“Happy birthday, Maisie!”

With a broad smile on her face, Mum slides a pile of envelopes across the kitchen table towards me. Behind her, Dad glances over his shoulder with a grin, still keeping one eye fixed on the banana pancake that’s cooking in the frying pan. The molecules that make its sticky-sweet smell weave their way from the stove to the odour receptors in my nose, making my stomach rumble in anticipation.

“Thanks, Mum,” I say, looking down at the oversized envelope at the top of the pile. I recognise Mum’s handwriting straight away, my name written in large letters across the silver envelope.

Maisie

“Go on,” Mum says. “Open it.”

As I turn the envelope over, I can see that it’s kind of lumpy in one corner and instantly realise what this means. Trying to keep a smile on my face, I rip the envelope open and pull out an enormous birthday card.

On the front, there’s a picture of a space rocket zooming through a starry sky, the constellations arranged to spell out the words HAPPY BIRTHDAY. And fixed to the top corner is a bright-blue badge with a big number ten printed inside a star.

Ignoring the badge, I quickly open the card, trying not to blush as I read the message inside.

To Maisie

Hope your birthday is out of this world!

We’re so proud of you. Have a fantastic day. All our love, Mum and Dad xxx

Mum looks at me hopefully as I set the card on the table.

“I took ages choosing it. So many of these birthday cards for girls nowadays have such silly stuff on them – glittery unicorns and fairies and things. I wanted to choose one that was just right for you. I do hope you like it, Maisie.”

I nod my head, even though the constellations aren’t exactly astronomically accurate.

“It’s perfect, Mum. Thanks.”

“I wasn’t sure about the badge. Ten’s not too old for a badge, is it?”

“Stop fussing, Laura,” Dad says, leaning across the table to slide a banana pancake on to my plate. I look up at him with a grateful smile. “Maisie doesn’t mind what her card looks like – it’s the birthday presents that she’s waiting for.”

As the banana pancake smell hits my nostrils in full effect, I feel an adrenalin rush of excitement at Dad’s mention of my birthday presents.

It’s true. I don’t mind that Mum’s got me a birthday card with a badge, even though they’re really just for little kids. If Mum and Dad have got me the present that I’ve set my heart on, I’ll forgive them anything.

I’ve dropped loads of hints, leaving copies of New Scientist open on the kitchen table and pinning up articles to the fridge. I know they said they couldn’t afford to spend a bomb on my birthday present, but I hope Mum and Dad have got me the kit I need to help me build my own nuclear reactor.

It all started when I watched this documentary about this American kid who built a nuclear reactor in his garage when he was a teenager and this kind of inspired me. Now I’m planning to be the first person in the world to crack the power of cold fusion.

When I first told Mum and Dad that I wanted to build a nuclear reactor they kind of freaked out, worrying about radioactive waste and stuff like that. Dad said he liked the fact I was getting interested in sustainable energy, but he didn’t want me blowing up the house.

I told Dad he didn’t have to worry. You see, most nuclear reactors work by splitting atoms. This is called nuclear fission and releases a huge amount of energy in the form of heat. Inside a normal nuclear reactor, the temperature can reach over 300º Celsius. That’s hot enough to melt lead!

And then there’s nuclear fusion, which is even hotter. Take a look up at the Sun. All the light you can see, all the heat that you feel is being produced deep inside the Sun when smaller hydrogen atoms fuse together to create larger helium atoms. The energy that this releases is what powers the Sun and every star in the sky.

When I explained all this to Dad I could see that he was starting to get really worried, so I quickly explained that the kind of nuclear reactor I was planning to build was completely different. Cold fusion does what it says on the tin. Nuclear reactions at room temperature, not even hot enough to melt the butter in Dad’s frying pan. No radioactive waste, no chance of explosions. All the energy you need – totally safe and clean.

The only problem is nobody’s quite worked out how to make cold fusion work yet. Loads of scientists have tried, but recently I was reading about this experiment that NASA is building and it gave me a great idea. I drew Mum and Dad a diagram of my plans for a DIY reactor and explained how the cold fusion process using the weak nuclear force would be completely safe.

To be honest, I don’t think Mum and Dad really understood what I was telling them, but when I said that all I really wanted for my birthday was a backward wave oscillator, a hydrogen generator and fifty tubes of kitchen foil, they said they’d think about it.

That was four weeks ago and now it’s my birthday.

“Can I open my presents yet?” I ask eagerly.

“Not yet,” Dad laughs, retreating to the hob to ladle another dollop of batter into the pan. “Eat your breakfast first. And you’ve got the rest of your birthday cards to open yet too.”

With a grin, I squirt a trail of golden syrup across my pancake. If Mum and Dad have got me what I need, I might be able to harness the power of a star in the old freezer in the garage.

I’m just taking my first mouthful of pancake and thinking about how I’ll be able to hook up the hydrogen generator when the door bangs open, causing Mum to jump halfway out of her chair.

Lily flounces into the kitchen. She’s wearing a long-sleeved T-shirt that almost reaches her knees, a picture of some eighties pop star printed on the front.

“Morning, Lily,” Dad says, giving the frying pan a shake. “Fancy a pancake?”

Then he does a double-take as he notices what she’s wearing.

“Is that my Cure T-shirt?”

Lily frowns as she flops down in the chair next to mine.

“I borrowed it,” she says, fiddling with the hem of one of the sleeves. She tugs it down over her wrist. “I didn’t think you’d mind.”

“I don’t,” Dad replies with a shake of his head. Picking up a spatula, he flips over the pancake that’s starting to sizzle in the pan. “But maybe ask next time, OK?”

Lily sighs with a roll of her eyes. Then she turns towards me and pushes an envelope across the table.

“Happy birthday, sis.”

“Thanks, Lily,” I say, feeling kind of surprised. “I didn’t think that you’d remember.”