Armand Baltazar - Diego and the Rangers of the Vastlantic

“I’ve seen you handle it like a pro,” Santiago said.

“I’m not that good at it,” Diego said. “I mean, I guess when we’re installing pressure valves or something, but . . . maybe you should have Stan Angelino do it. He’s the top robot driver at Arlington.”

“Come on,” Santiago said. “You are my son. How could you help but be one of the best, someday maybe even the best?” Santiago rubbed the top of Diego’s head, messing up his hair. “This converter came to us all the way from London. The queen’s top steam propulsion designer and his son are here to help us install it. Stan is very good, but I need my top man on the job.”

Diego felt his cheeks burn.

“And besides,” Santiago said, “you’ve got to see this thing. It’s massive!”

Dad always sounded like a kid when he talked about work. He liked to say that it kept him young, though lately Diego had noticed the gray hair at his father’s temples and the occasional white whisker in his broad mustache.

But instead of smiling back, Diego stared down at his plate.

“What is it, Diego?”

“Well, I just don’t understand why Magistrate Huston thinks that we need some old-fashioned steam technology. First, there was the engineer from France with his revolutionary gas lamp systems, then that awful crude oil expert from Texas. Now we have to put up with some stuffy British guy?” Diego flashed a glance at his father. “I mean, you’re ten times the engineer that he is.”

Santiago sipped his coffee. “Sharing our technology helps strengthen our alliances. It’s my duty to help them, and this converter is the queen’s way of doing the same.” Santiago smiled. “There’s more to being chief engineer than gears and pistons. There’s also the workings of people. And sometimes they’re more complicated. You’ll have to learn that if you are ever going to take my place.”

Diego wished he hadn’t said anything. “I don’t know, Dad. . . .” He didn’t think he could ever take Santiago’s place. He didn’t know if he had that kind of greatness in him, and he didn’t want to see the disappointment in his father’s eyes if he didn’t.

“Listen,” Dad said. “I realize it’s not as exciting as taking your pilot’s test. But I need you.”

“I know,” Diego said.

“And someday when you finally turn thirteen and take that test, you’ll still be the youngest pilot in New Chicago.”

“Dad . . . ,” Diego muttered. He shoved a whole piece of bacon into his mouth.

“What is it?” Santiago asked.

“ Today is my birthday.”

“Wait . . . today? But . . .” Santiago started counting on his fingers. “It can’t be. Today is Tuesday, yesterday was Monday. Before that it was Sunday, so today must be . . .”

Santiago’s face cracked, and he started to laugh.

“Dad!” Diego said.

“You’re horrible,” Siobhan said, punching Santiago’s shoulder lightly.

“Sorry,” Santiago said, grinning. “But I had you going.” He pulled a small package from his satchel and held it out. “Don’t worry, I didn’t forget. Here.”

This was not the size of a gravity board, but Diego pulled off the brown paper, revealing a small box wrapped in white paper, with a blue bow. There was a card attached.

To our young adventurer and son, Diego

Through this, may you see

A world of wonders hidden from most.

Love, Mom & Dad

He unwrapped the package.

“What is it?” Diego asked, raising the tube to his eye. Through the lens, he saw tiny broken fragments. They formed a fractured pattern of beautiful colored shapes.

“Now turn the other end,” his father instructed. Diego rotated the cylindrical collar at the front. The image began to move and change, forming new patterns even more beautiful than the last, the colors tumbling and rearranging.

“Wow,” Diego said.

Santiago smiled. “It’s a kaleidoscope. It has mirrors and bits of different-colored glass inside. That’s what creates those patterns when you rotate it.”

“It’s amazing,” Diego replied. He turned the device over in his hand.

“Don’t you like it?” Siobhan asked.

“Yeah, I mean—it’s awesome.” He tried to sound thankful, and he was just . . . Was this it? “Thanks, guys.”

“Never discount the potential in all things, no matter how humble their appearance,” Santiago said.

“Okay,” Diego said, doing his best to smile.

But his parents were still grinning.

“Santi,” Siobhan said, nearly cracking up. “Isn’t there something else?”

“Maybe.” Santiago’s eyes glinted mischievously.

Diego jumped. “Is it—”

“Hold your horses,” Dad said. “It’s still down in the workshop. I have a few last touches to do, but it will be ready by tonight.” He saw Diego’s face fall. “I think you can survive. Besides, we have lots to distract us between now and then. I . . .”

Santiago paused and looked at Diego curiously.

“What?” Diego asked. It was almost like Santiago was studying him. “Dad . . .”

“Sorry.” Santiago shook his head, like he was returning from a daydream. “You know what? On second thought, I tell you what: Why don’t we stop by the workshop before school?” He checked his watch. “There’s enough time if you eat fast. And then you can have that present now, after all.”

“Okay, cool.” Diego wolfed down his food.

“I’ll meet you at the front door,” Santiago said, gathering his belt and refilling his coffee mug.

Diego shoved in his last bites and jumped to his feet, still chewing.

“Bye, sweetie,” Siobhan said, kissing Diego’s head. “We’ll have cake tonight when you two get home.”

CHAPTER THREE

A Workshop of Wonders

Diego and Santiago rode the elevator down to the workshop. The elevator clacked and shimmied, its gears grinding. Like so many things, it had once run on electricity, but the Time Collision had made the earth’s magnetic field violently unstable. As a result, virtually nothing electric worked. Some simple devices worked with the help of Elder fuses but only in limited capacity and only for short amounts of time. Limited use of old-fashioned telegraph devices was the only form of long-distance communication. Anything that had used circuit boards needed to be resurrected using steam, hydraulics, limited diesel, and manual labor. The work that Santiago had pioneered, mixing Steam-Time and Mid-Time technologies, had been the key to rebuilding the world safely. He had replaced this elevator’s smooth plastic buttons with brass ones that triggered little pistons, which in turn connected to gear works. The elevator lowered with a rhythmic pumping of steam compressors. Like most things in the city, it smelled of machine oil.

The elevator lurched and clanged to a stop, the doors grinding open.

As they did, Diego felt an odd sensation in his head. The world swam slightly, and there was a faint ringing in his ears. He put his hand against the wall to steady himself.

Santiago stepped out into the hall and glanced back at Diego.

“Diego, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just . . . I’m fine,” Diego said, following him out. He took a deep breath and felt normal again, but when he looked up, Santiago was still gazing at him oddly.

“Dad, what?”

Santiago shook his head. “You just looked green for a second. You sure you’re all right? It’s going to be a big job today. I’ll need your best effort.”

“It’s just driving a loader,” Diego said, walking beside Dad. “And I’m sure their steam converter is nowhere near as sophisticated as yours.”