The Blurred Blogger Read online

  1 The Introduction Malfunction

  “LOOK OUT!” I SHOUTED. “COMING through!”

  I ducked around fellow students as I ran down the first-floor main corridor. Unfortunately, it was the beginning of the school day, so the hallway was buzzing with twelve- and thirteen-year-olds.

  “Good thing we just charged him, huh?” Noah asked with an eye roll as he raced beside me.

  Normally, my best friend Noah Newton was happy to join me in the pursuit of knowledge and scientific achievement. Now he joined me in the pursuit of our small robot, Raider. That’s right. We were chasing our new robot all over our school.

  That may sound weird, but believe it or not, it’s not the first time something like this has happened here. It’s not even the first time my friends and I have chased a robot through the halls. That’s what happens when you attend a cool school like the Swift Academy of Science and Technology.

  “Whoa!” Kent Jackson shouted as he sidestepped the speeding robot.

  Our little robot’s motor whined as he zigzagged past other student obstacles. His main housing was only half a meter square and fifteen centimeters tall. It looked kind of like an oversize, flat gift box. Noah and I had used the body of the battlebot we had made for Mrs. Scott’s robotics class. That’s right. We had a robot battle as a class project a while back! See? I told you it was a great school.

  “Hey!” shouted Jessica Mercer as she jumped out of the way. “Aww… that’s cute!”

  Noah and I had removed our battlebot’s weapons and added a metallic dog head on top instead. He had cameras for eyes, and microphones hidden inside his pointed ears. It had been Noah’s idea to make the snout triangular to look like his dog, Phoebe. The finished robot resembled a steampunk bull terrier piloting a flat car. He even had a tail—actually a Wi-Fi antenna—poking out the back.

  “Excuse me! Sorry!” I said as I pushed past Terry Stephenson and his friends.

  “New robot,” I heard Noah call out behind me. “You know how it is.”

  Up ahead, Raider was making his way through the crowded hallway better than we were. The little guy dodged surprised students with ease as he zipped down the corridor. It looked like our robot’s AI was as sharp as ever.

  Raider’s AI, or artificial intelligence, was part of the problem. Noah, who’s a first-rate programmer, had designed a program that would learn and grow over time. The trouble was that he started the program very low on the evolutionary scale, at a level similar to a lizard brain’s fight-or-flight instincts. Earlier, someone slammed a locker door, and since Raider can’t fight, he chose flight.

  “You sure you didn’t add a stop command yet?” I asked over my shoulder as I sprinted in pursuit.

  “You wanted to show Mrs. Scott where we were, remember?”

  Okay, it’s true. I was proud of what we’d accomplished so far. Even Raider’s name was cool. His actual name was RAIDR, an acronym for: Roving Artificial Intelligent Dog Robot. Okay, it’s not as elegant as SCUBA or TASER, but you get the idea. And yeah, “scuba” and “Taser” are real acronyms. Look them up!

  I slowed my pace a bit as we neared the end of the corridor. Raider wouldn’t let himself crash into the closed elevator door, so he was trapped. He would have to stop, and then one of us could simply flick the off switch on the back. Of course, the hall was a dead end until it wasn’t. The elevator doors opened and a couple of students shuffled out. When Maggie Ortiz stepped inside, Raider zoomed in behind her.

  I sped up again. “Hold the elevator!”

  I don’t know if it was that Maggie didn’t hear me over the usual hallway noise or if she was just too surprised by Raider’s sudden appearance—it might’ve been both—but I saw her back away just as the doors slid shut.

  “Stairs!” Noah shouted.

  “Stairs!” I agreed.

  We veered to the right and began climbing the steps two at a time. Luckily, the elevator on this end of the school doesn’t access the basement, so it could only go up. Unluckily, our progress slowed to a crawl as soon as we hit the landing. The stairwell seemed more congested than the hallway had been.

  “You take the second floor,” Noah suggested. “I’ll cover the third.”

  “Good idea.” I pushed my way as politely as possible toward the second-floor landing.

  Above my head, I heard Noah’s footfalls on the stairs, along with his own round of “Excuse me!” and “Sorry!”

  I dashed onto the second floor and jetted for the elevator, but I was so focused on my destination that I didn’t notice the backpack on the floor up ahead. I sure noticed it, though, when I tripped over it and hit the ground with a splat.

  “Smooth move, Swift!” Jim Mills chuckled as he picked up his backpack. Then the larger kid bent down and hoisted me to my feet.

  “Thanks,” I said, rubbing my elbow.

  So you might’ve noticed that I share a name with our school. That’s no coincidence. My father, Tom Swift Sr., founded the academy with the proceeds from his neighboring company, Swift Enterprises. I guess you could say that inventing and innovation run in the family. My dad’s company is a major government contractor and comes up with all kinds of top secret stuff.

  I never let the fact that my name is on the school go to my head, though. I try very hard to be a normal student like everyone else. Of course, it’s kind of hard to blend in when you fall flat on your face in front of a corridor full of students as you’re trying to catch a wayward robot.

  I was so embarrassed after my spill, I barely registered the elevator doors sliding open. Before I knew it, Raider zipped out, leaving behind a stunned Maggie. I knelt as the robot raced right for me, breathing a sigh of relief as I reached out, ready to catch him. But then he took a hard right and sped down the second-floor hallway.

  “Not again,” I muttered, taking off after him.

  There weren’t as many students up here, so I knew I had a shot at catching up. What I hadn’t counted on was Mr. Osborne rolling out a cart full of glass beakers and test tubes. The short, wiry man paused in the middle of the hallway and stared at the approaching robot. That was the absolute worst place to stop with a cart loaded with glassware. Raider showed no signs of slowing down. I felt a boulder form in my stomach.

  Mr. Osborne’s eyes widened as he threw both arms over the top of the cart, bracing for the impending crash.

  But the impact never came.

  Instead, Raider’s pointed ears swiveled back and his head dropped into a triangular compartment in the main body. Even his Wi-Fi antenna tail lowered as he scooted underneath the cart, easily clearing the lower rack.

  My feeling of dread morphed to pride.

  “What the heck was that?” Mr. Osborne asked.

  “I’ll explain later,” I said as I dashed around him.

  The other teachers would’ve barely noticed a robot wandering around or a drone cruising through the school, but Mr. Osborne was new. He was filling in for Mrs. Gaines, teaching chemistry while she was on maternity leave.

  Raider cleared the cart, and his head and tail returned to normal height as he careened down the hallway. I’d lost some ground dodging Mr. Osborne, so I poured on the speed, but unfortunately still had trouble gaining on our robot. I’ll give it to Noah: He programmed that thing to dodge obstacles way too well. I felt clumsy as Raider easily jetted around legs, backpacks, and other obstacles. And it didn’t help seeing several students whip out their phones to record the chase.

  As Raider neared the elevator at the opposite end of the hallway, the doors opened. I groaned at the thought of running up another flight of stairs all over again. Worse yet, this time I wouldn’t have anyone to head off Raider at one of the other levels.

  A grin pulled at my lips when I
realized who was standing inside the elevator—Amy Hsu, one of my very good friends.

  “Amy!” I shouted. “Hold the doors!”

  She glanced at the approaching robot and then back up at me. Assessing the situation perfectly, she stepped out of Raider’s path as she reached for the elevator buttons. But as I skidded to a stop in front of the open elevator, something strange happened. A multicolored shower poured from the elevator ceiling. Amy squealed, suddenly covered in… confetti.

  Laughter erupted around me, and I turned to see all the students I’d run past now gathered in front of the elevator. Of course, most had their phones out, recording the incident.

  Meanwhile, Amy, who usually never has so much as a wrinkle in her clothing or a hair out of place, was making a bird’s nest of her head as she tried to shake out all the tiny pieces of confetti from her long black hair. The minuscule pieces of paper must’ve clogged Raider’s cameras, since he kept bumping against the back of the elevator.

  I took advantage of the moment, slogging through the piles of confetti, and flicked the power switch on Raider’s back. He stopped moving.

  “What happened?” Amy asked, still fighting with the colorful flecks.

  I glanced up and spotted a large, flat plastic bin dangling from the elevator’s ceiling. It was attached to a hinge and now slowly swung back and forth. A small latch on the ceiling would’ve attached to the loose end of the box, keeping it closed. A thin wire snaked away from the latch and down the wall, ending at a button positioned perfectly over the open elevator control. It had been placed so well, I probably wouldn’t have noticed it if I hadn’t been looking closely.

  “What happened is you got pranked,” I replied.

  A curtain of hair covered Amy’s face as she shook out more confetti. “Well, I don’t like it.”

  Another burst of laughter made her pause, peeping out through the strands. She squeaked and her hands shot to her sides. Amy does not like being the center of attention.

  Mr. Osborne poked his head into the elevator car and glanced around. “What’s with this school?”

  His comment was met with another round of laughter.

  “Way to make a colorful entrance… Junior,” said a familiar voice.

  I cringed. I knew that voice all too well. There was only one person in the world who called me that. I turned to see Andrew Foger standing among the onlookers. His phone was out and recording, just like the others.

  What was he doing here?

  2 The Discounted Encounter

  LET ME BACK UP A bit. I knew Andrew Foger from way back when we were younger. My dad and his dad had worked together. They were partners in my father’s first company. Of course, Andrew would tell you that my dad actually worked for his dad. That was only true in the sense that my father did all the work while Mr. Foger paid for everything. But what did I know at the time? I was just a little kid. A little kid who ended up getting into trouble a lot because Andrew goaded me into testing all of the crazy inventions we came up with.

  Okay, maybe “goaded” is too strong a word. I’ve always been an act-first-come-up-with-a-plan-later kind of a guy, even when I was a little kid. But, hey, when you fracture your wrist testing a homemade hang glider by jumping off the roof (thankfully only a one-story drop), you expect there to be consequences. What you don’t expect is your friend to say the entire thing was your idea. And stuff like that happened a lot.

  “Are you okay, Amy?” I asked as I dusted some confetti from her shoulder.

  “I’m fine,” she muttered. “Just really embarrassed.” She brushed past me, making her way through the crowd of onlookers.

  I bent down and grabbed Raider, turning the robot on his side, letting a mound of confetti pour to the elevator floor.

  “Looks like someone got you good,” Andrew said as he ran a hand through his frizzy blond hair. It looked the same as it had when we were kids, like Andrew didn’t know what a comb was.

  “What are you doing here?” I demanded.

  “What’s he doing here?” echoed Noah as he pushed through the crowd.

  Noah had the pleasure of meeting Andrew a while back when several of the academy students spent the weekend at a nearby summer camp. It had been a cool retreat meant to let us work on bigger outdoor inventions for a couple of days. Two other STEM schools participated, and we all competed against one another. Andrew was enrolled in one of our rival schools.

  “I just transferred here from Bradley,” Andrew replied, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “I’m a Swift Academy student now.”

  Noah and I exchanged a look. It was turning out to be a great day.

  Principal Davenport pushed through the crowd and peered into the elevator. “What in the world.…” He brought his radio up and keyed the mic. “Mr. Jacobs? We need a cleanup in the east elevator, please. Second floor.”

  “Animal, vegetable, or mineral?” asked Mr. Jacobs’s voice from the small radio. I guess that was his way of asking if anyone had hurled.

  Mr. Davenport sighed. “Confetti.”

  “On my way,” the custodian replied.

  Mr. Osborne was still examining the contraption attached to the elevator ceiling. “Does this type of thing happen often here?”

  “Sometimes,” replied Mr. Davenport wearily. He removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You get this many intelligent kids together in one place, and you have to keep on your toes.” He turned to face the onlookers. “Speaking of… shouldn’t you all be heading for class?”

  And like that, the assembled students lowered their phones and dispersed.

  I tried to join them, but Mr. Davenport caught my eye. “Ah, Mr. Swift. I see Mr. Foger found you. He tells me that you used to be close friends.”

  Andrew nodded. “That’s right, sir.”

  “Good,” replied Mr. Davenport. “Because I’ve mirrored his class schedule with yours.”

  I did my best to force a smile. “Great.”

  This day was getting better and better.

  Noah reached for the robot in my arms and gave a sly grin. “I’ll take Raider to robotics while you show your friend around.”

  I clutched Raider tighter for a second before finally handing him over. “Thanks,” I replied through gritted teeth.

  “I’d love to see your robotics lab,” Andrew chimed in.

  I nodded, flashing Noah a triumphant look. “Great, we’ll all go.”

  With the elevator locked open and out of commission, we took the stairs up to the third floor. Since Noah had tried to ditch me with Andrew, I didn’t feel so bad about him having to carry the heavy robot up the steps.

  “Why Raider?” Andrew asked.

  “It stands for Roving Artificial Intelligence Dog Robot,” I explained.

  “Artificial intelligence, huh?” Andrew asked with an eye roll. “Okay.”

  Noah couldn’t help but rise to the challenge. “Raider has a cool program we designed, so he actually learns as he goes.”

  “So you taught it to run away from you?” Andrew asked. “That’s all I saw it do. You didn’t add any voice commands? That’s one of the first things I did when I built my own robotic dog.”

  Noah sighed and shook his head. “I just have to adjust the sensitivity of his fight-or-flight response,” he explained. “And we’re adding voice commands with the next update.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “We are?”

  “That’s next on the list,” he replied quickly, cutting an eye in Andrew’s direction.

  “You should’ve seen how he ducked under Mr. Osborne’s cart, though,” I said, before telling them how Raider’s head and tail had retracted.

  “Cool,” he said as we reached the robotics lab.

  The classroom had several large worktables spaced evenly. A number of first-period students were sitting on stools around the tables littered with robot arms, gears, and pulleys, while others filed in.

  Noah set our robot against the wall next to one of the many large toolboxes.
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br />   “Huh,” Andrew said, glancing over his shoulder back into the classroom as we left for the next stop on our tour. “I was hoping it would be bigger. Bradley’s robotics lab is huge.”

  I opened my mouth to reply, but Noah beat me to it. “I guess the school decided to save a little space here since we can always go next door to Swift Enterprises and use their lab if we need to.”

  Andrew didn’t have anything to say after that.

  The three of us had just enough time to get to our lockers before heading to first period. Honestly, I was kind of dreading going to algebra with Andrew in tow. And it wasn’t because Andrew was, well… Andrew. It was because Samantha Watson would be there. Like Amy and Noah, Sam’s a really good friend, and the final member of the Formidable Foursome, as my dad likes to call us.

  Back when we were all at that summer camp retreat, Andrew was behind all the Swift Academy inventions being sabotaged. Worse than that, he’d capitalized on a rumor that Sam was the saboteur. Unfortunately, I was the source of the rumor. I’d only been joking, and Sam had long since forgiven me, but I’m pretty sure she never forgave Andrew. I wasn’t looking forward to her reaction when he suddenly joined us in class. Sam was a great person and all, but she has a devious side that is… well, honestly a little spooky.

  Noah, Andrew, and I walked into the algebra classroom just as the bell rang. Noah and I quickly took our usual seats next to each other—Noah in front of Amy and me in front of Sam. I glanced back to see Andrew nervously slide into an empty desk in the back.

  “All right, sports fans,” Mr. Jenkins said, his standard greeting to his students. “It seems we have a new student.” He glanced down at a sheet of paper. “Andrew Foger, is it?”

  “Yes, sir,” Andrew replied.

  I turned with the rest of the class as Andrew gave a nervous wave.

  Mr. Jenkins dropped the paper onto his desk. “I’d have everyone introduce themselves, but we have a lot to cover today.”

  “I already know some students, sir,” Andrew replied. “Besides, Tom and I go way back.”

  I hardly noticed what Andrew had said. I was too busy staring at the back of Sam’s head. I could only imagine the expression of shock, horror, and/or disgust that I knew had to be on the other side of her short brown hair.