Read Online The Live-Forever Machine by Kenneth Oppel - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kenneth Oppel
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“Saying love poetry to a picture in a locket!” Chris scoffed. “Sounds pretty crazy to me.”
Eric sagged in the armchair. He remembered Alexander snatching the locket from his hands, desperate to have it back. But was that so hard to understand? He hadn’t wanted to part with it himself. Maybe Alexander just felt the same attraction, only much stronger.
“It was like it belonged to him,” Eric said. “Like he owned it.”
“I thought you said it came from the museum.”
“But the way he held it and looked at the picture—” Eric hesitated as the thought slithered into his head, almost didn’t say it. “It was as if he knew her.”
“Right,” Chris said jeeringly. “Like those old guys who look at skin magazines at the back of the corner store.”
“That’s not the way he was looking at it, you moron.” Eric could feel his face go red. He, too, had spent a lot of time looking at the portrait. Nothing abnormal about that, right? There was just something about her, something mysterious. He wondered if his father ever looked at his old pictures the same way.
“Me a moron?” Chris exclaimed. “You’re the moron. The woman in the portrait’s been dead five hundred years or something and you say that this guy knew her. Right!”
“It was just the way he looked, that’s all,” Eric said sharply.
“Yeah, because he’s crazy. He probably ripped this thing off. Why else would he hide it when his boss showed up?”
“Maybe, maybe.” Eric said. He felt suddenly deflated. The same question had stalked through his head. He supposed it was possible for Alexander to have stolen the locket, but Eric just couldn’t see him doing it. He’d worked at the museum for years, and obviously loved it. He seemed about as likely a criminal as Eric’s father. But it was impossible to know what people were really like. Everyone hid things.
“Well,” said Chris, “if you ask me, this thing has ILLEGAL written all over it in big red letters.”
“He wants me to go back,” said Eric. “That’s the only reason he gave me the locket. He could’ve hidden it himself just as easily.”
“Just ditch it,” Chris advised, stretching his muscular arms above his head. “He’s crazy.”
“But why’s he been watching me?” Eric exclaimed. “There’s got to be a reason! Why does he want me to go back to see him?”
Chris shrugged, and his eyes strayed to the television.
“Hang on a second.”
He touched the remote-control unit and the volume soared.
A curvaceous young woman in a bikini was modelling a new wristwatch TV , whispering guarantees with her wide, crayon-red mouth. All her beautiful friends wore wristwatch televisions, too. They were stretched out on the sand behind her, eyes glued to the miniature screens. They managed to tear themselves away long enough to smile at the camera before the commercial ended.
“Wouldn’t one of those be amazing?” Chris said.
“Great,” Eric said curtly. Chris was getting as bad as his father, always distracted. No onepaid attention anymore. At least Alexander had listened.
“The screen on those things is incredibly thin,” Chris was saying.
“A real breakthrough,” Eric said.
“Sorry, I forgot I was talking to a techno-peasant.”
“Fortunately I can think without the television on.”
“Isn’t there an encyclopedia you should be reading?”
“Old joke, Chris. And you probably don’t even know what an encyclopedia looks like.”
“Yeah, well, we can’t all be skinny geek geniuses like you, Mr. Superior Intellect,” Chris said, cuttingly.
Eric felt a hot flush of guilt. It was true, he liked to feel smarter than Chris. He wondered if Chris knew how jealous he really was—of Chris’s popularity, his muscles. Eric could hardly admit it to himself.
“Forget it,” he mumbled, wrenching himself out of the armchair. The gleaming white room suddenly made him feel claustrophobic, and he moved to open the glass balcony doors. Hot
“Saying love poetry to a picture in a locket!” Chris scoffed. “Sounds pretty crazy to me.”
Eric sagged in the armchair. He remembered Alexander snatching the locket from his hands, desperate to have it back. But was that so hard to understand? He hadn’t wanted to part with it himself. Maybe Alexander just felt the same attraction, only much stronger.
“It was like it belonged to him,” Eric said. “Like he owned it.”
“I thought you said it came from the museum.”
“But the way he held it and looked at the picture—” Eric hesitated as the thought slithered into his head, almost didn’t say it. “It was as if he knew her.”
“Right,” Chris said jeeringly. “Like those old guys who look at skin magazines at the back of the corner store.”
“That’s not the way he was looking at it, you moron.” Eric could feel his face go red. He, too, had spent a lot of time looking at the portrait. Nothing abnormal about that, right? There was just something about her, something mysterious. He wondered if his father ever looked at his old pictures the same way.
“Me a moron?” Chris exclaimed. “You’re the moron. The woman in the portrait’s been dead five hundred years or something and you say that this guy knew her. Right!”
“It was just the way he looked, that’s all,” Eric said sharply.
“Yeah, because he’s crazy. He probably ripped this thing off. Why else would he hide it when his boss showed up?”
“Maybe, maybe.” Eric said. He felt suddenly deflated. The same question had stalked through his head. He supposed it was possible for Alexander to have stolen the locket, but Eric just couldn’t see him doing it. He’d worked at the museum for years, and obviously loved it. He seemed about as likely a criminal as Eric’s father. But it was impossible to know what people were really like. Everyone hid things.
“Well,” said Chris, “if you ask me, this thing has ILLEGAL written all over it in big red letters.”
“He wants me to go back,” said Eric. “That’s the only reason he gave me the locket. He could’ve hidden it himself just as easily.”
“Just ditch it,” Chris advised, stretching his muscular arms above his head. “He’s crazy.”
“But why’s he been watching me?” Eric exclaimed. “There’s got to be a reason! Why does he want me to go back to see him?”
Chris shrugged, and his eyes strayed to the television.
“Hang on a second.”
He touched the remote-control unit and the volume soared.
A curvaceous young woman in a bikini was modelling a new wristwatch TV , whispering guarantees with her wide, crayon-red mouth. All her beautiful friends wore wristwatch televisions, too. They were stretched out on the sand behind her, eyes glued to the miniature screens. They managed to tear themselves away long enough to smile at the camera before the commercial ended.
“Wouldn’t one of those be amazing?” Chris said.
“Great,” Eric said curtly. Chris was getting as bad as his father, always distracted. No onepaid attention anymore. At least Alexander had listened.
“The screen on those things is incredibly thin,” Chris was saying.
“A real breakthrough,” Eric said.
“Sorry, I forgot I was talking to a techno-peasant.”
“Fortunately I can think without the television on.”
“Isn’t there an encyclopedia you should be reading?”
“Old joke, Chris. And you probably don’t even know what an encyclopedia looks like.”
“Yeah, well, we can’t all be skinny geek geniuses like you, Mr. Superior Intellect,” Chris said, cuttingly.
Eric felt a hot flush of guilt. It was true, he liked to feel smarter than Chris. He wondered if Chris knew how jealous he really was—of Chris’s popularity, his muscles. Eric could hardly admit it to himself.
“Forget it,” he mumbled, wrenching himself out of the armchair. The gleaming white room suddenly made him feel claustrophobic, and he moved to open the glass balcony doors. Hot
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