99
“Everything okay?” Arthur tilts his head in study.
The way he regards me, with his brows drawn together, it’s clear that he’s onto me. Still, I just nod and mumble vaguely about having felt momentarily dizzy.
Right away, I know he’s not buying it. But thankfully, for whatever reason, he’s quick to move on. “The Antikythera Mechanism is the first ever analog computer,” he says. “It was used to accurately predict astronomical positions and eclipses decades in advance. After being lost at sea for over two thousand years, it was discovered in an old shipwreck near Antikythera Island in Greece, which is how it came by its name.”
I glance between Arthur and the artifact. I know about its history. One long ago day, my dad told me. Still, I’m not sure why out of everything here, it manages to claim the top spot on Arthurs’s list of favorites. I mean, sure, it’s extraordinary in its original form. But here, in its current condition, it’s not all that impressive.
“Many of its pieces are still missing,” he continues. “Metal gearwheels, stones that stood in for the various planets, rotating dials—all of which are vital to its function. Though unfortunately, they’ve remained hidden for centuries.”
I think of all the skilled artisans and craftsmen Arthur keeps on staff. The solution to his problem is obvious. “Why not just replicate those parts?” I ask.
He dismisses the idea with a wave of his hand. “We’ve tried, but none of it can be duplicated. Only the genuine articles will do.” Wearing a look of deep contemplation, he shifts his focus to me. “It’s my dream to see it restored to its original form. And that’s where you come in. You’re going to find those pieces and bring them to me. You’re the only one who can.”
It takes a moment for the statement to register, but once it does, my stomach begins a slow churn as my entire body breaks out in a cold, clammy sweat. “This—what you mentioned at lunch—this is your greatest ambition.” I pause long enough to clock his reaction. As usual, his face reveals nothing, but I know I’m not wrong. “Still, you can’t be serious!” I say, only to regret it the second it’s out. No one talks to Arthur Blackstone like that. But, since there’s no taking it back, I rush to explain. “What I mean is—”
I don’t get far before he holds up his hand to stop me from making it worse. “I am entirely serious. And I have no doubt you’ll succeed. But for now, I want to hear more about this person who confronted you at Versailles.”
Unsure what this has to do with anything, I nonetheless give him the rundown on the groundskeeper and how close I came to missing the window when he attacked me. But by the time I finish recounting my story, Arthur looks surprisingly pleased. “And this is why you believe you failed?”
I stare at him, struggling to comprehend what he means. “Well, I didn’t procure the Get, and …”
“But you didn’t even know what the Get was, did you?”
He’s not wrong, though I’m willing to bet it was one of the missing pieces belonging to this ancient computer.
“Going by your encounter, I’d say you came much closer to retrieving it than you think.”
He studies me for a long, intense beat, and not knowing what else to do, I return my attention to the Antikythera. “I guess I don’t understand why this is so important to you,” I say. “There’s got to be more accurate ways of charting the stars. Is there something I’m missing?”
Arthur offers an indulgent smile, the kind normally reserved for favored pets and small children. “As it turns out, there is far more to the Antikythera Mechanism than the scholars who’ve studied it can even begin to comprehend. Within it lies a great power. To put it simply, it is the means for everything the world has the potential to be. Though unfortunately, ever since its inception, there’s been a group of short-sighted fools, like the man you ran into at Versailles, who are committed to halting its promise. It’s why so many of its parts have been hidden.”
Another look at the ancient scrap of metal leaves me to conclude that Arthur must be extremely bored. I mean, what else is a trillionaire to do after traveling through time to procure all the world’s greatest treasures? Instead of taking up golf like every other old rich guy, he’s set his sights on completing the ultimate puzzle, and now he’s looking to me to handle the grunt work and collect all the pieces so he can claim all the glory.
To Arthur, I say, “Why Versailles? Why not just travel back two thousand years and snatch the mechanism while it’s still in one piece?”
An amused look crosses his face. “Because time travel uses an enormous amount of power, and the further one travels, the more power is required. I like to use the rubber band analogy—if you stretch it too far, it’ll snap. As of now, we’re not yet able to travel back safely more than eight hundred years without snapping. Or, in our case, vanishing. We’re working to resolve that, of course. But at this point, the solution is still a ways off.”
I’m pretty sure I check out the second he says “vanishing.”