Depth Perception Read online

  We ran back to the dock, and Noah opened the front hatch. “My turn to drive?”

  “Definitely,” I replied as I lifted the rear hatch and untied the line at the stern.

  Noah carefully lowered himself inside as I released the line at the bow. I tossed him the rope and grabbed on to the open rear hatch to keep the sub from drifting away from the dock.

  “How’s the battery level?” I called.

  Noah flicked the power switch. “Ninety-five percent.”

  “Okay, here goes,” I said as I swung a leg into the rear hatch. As I slowly climbed in, I hoped that all our calculations had been correct. I caught my breath as the vessel dipped with my added weight. Luckily, as I settled into the rear seat, the sub bobbed back up again.

  Noah reached out of the hatch and pointed to a thin horizontal mark on the sub’s hull. The line was where we’d estimated the waterline would be once the craft was launched. Just as we’d predicted, the water gently lapped at the thin line. “Perfect,” he said with a grin.

  “Looking good, guys,” came a familiar voice.

  Noah and I glanced up at the dock, but there was no one there. The voice was coming from our left—from the water.

  J. J. Jefferson paddled alongside us in a long blue kayak. Dry bags were strapped to the bow and stern, as if he was heading out on a long expedition.

  “Hiya, Tom,” Jefferson said. “And you must be Noah Newton.”

  “Yes, sir.” Noah gave a small wave.

  “Tom’s told me a lot about you,” Jefferson said. “I may have to steal that noise-canceling program for your drone.”

  Noah grinned and nodded. “You bet.”

  I could see my friend swell with pride at the thought of the tech giant wanting to steal his idea. I’d learned firsthand just how much J. J. Jefferson could instill confidence in someone with a few choice words. It was nice to see my friend getting the same treatment.

  “Are you two field-testing already?” Mr. Jefferson asked.

  “We’re not submerging yet,” Noah quickly replied. “This is just a shakedown of the basic controls and a buoyancy check.”

  “Smart,” Jefferson replied.

  “Cool kayak,” I said. “I—we thought you might show up in a big RV or something.”

  “Not me,” Jefferson said with a shake of his head. “I like to get this beauty out whenever possible.” He tapped the side of the kayak. “In fact, I took this baby up a highway in Alaska.”

  “Up a highway?” Noah asked, scratching his head.

  Jefferson smiled. “Well, it’s only a road in the winter when it’s frozen over. In the summer, it’s a nice little ocean inlet full of sea lions, orcas, and humpback whales. Remind me later, and I’ll show you some pics.”

  “Great,” Noah said.

  J. J. Jefferson dipped his paddle into the water and turned toward the third dock. “I’ll catch you later,” he called as his kayak glided away.

  When Mr. Jefferson was several meters out, Noah grinned back at me. “Dude! That was so cool.”

  I chuckled. “Are you okay to drive?”

  Noah rolled his eyes and faced front again. “Where should we go?”

  “Think we have enough power to make it around the island and back?”

  “Easily.” My friend’s confidence was off the charts.

  I heard the propeller churn in the water behind me as Noah directed our craft toward the island. It was the perfect landmark for our first two-man field test, and crossing the open water was way more exciting than simply hugging the shoreline.

  Our sub moved up and down as we left the relatively calm waters of the shore and began crossing the large expanse that stretched between the docks and the island. There wasn’t anyone cliff diving today, and even though the island was usually packed with visitors, only a single large boat was anchored off its sheer edge. As we drew closer, I noticed a blue-and-white flag flying from the boat’s stern and remembered from my open water dive that the alpha flag meant that the boat was hosting scuba divers.

  “Those are new,” Noah said, pointing to one of the many buoys bobbing in the waves around the island, each sporting a red flag with a diagonal white stripe.

  “We better turn around,” I said.

  “Why?”

  “Those are diver-down flags,” I explained. “That means there are scuba divers in the area. Boats are supposed to steer clear of them.”

  “Aw man,” Noah grumbled as he brought the sub about.

  It looked as if the island was off-limits for now. So much for our perfect landmark.

  5 The Primary Preliminary

  “A LITTLE HIGHER, GUYS,” SAM instructed.

  Noah and I grunted as we raised the left extension. I felt the metal vibrate as Sam slid the retaining pin into place.

  “Okay,” she said.

  We carefully lowered the piece of equipment and moved to the other side of the machine, where we repeated the routine while Amy inserted her pin. I stepped back and wiped my brow. Sam and Amy’s Beach Comber was officially assembled.

  The large invention resembled a riding mower with two combs fanning out on either side. Of course the center unit didn’t have a seat for a driver. Solar panels lined the top, instead. And there was no steering wheel. Operations would be done remotely by either Sam or Amy. Noah and I had helped them build many of the components, and I couldn’t wait to see their Beach Comber in action.

  The few volunteers with inventions not focused on the environment would be helping everyone else with theirs. I didn’t mind. Swift Academy has always been about collaboration. The arrangement also meant there was a chance to test other inventions during the trip—like our submarine—that would be harder to try out back home. Noah and I had originally planned to make it an official eco-invention by adding robotic arms and a mounted collection bin so we could pick up trash that had sunk in the shallow parts of the lake. Unfortunately, we’d run out of time. Now the Advance was an elective invention—one that we’d have to wait to test until after the eco-inventions were up and running.

  As a few students and teachers gathered around Amy and Sam’s invention, J. J. Jefferson leaned over the Beach Comber and rubbed his hands together. “Who’s going to tell me how this works?”

  Mr. Jefferson had gone around and introduced himself to all of our classmates. (As if they didn’t already know who he was.) That had relieved a lot of the general tension of being on a camping trip with a celebrity.

  If I was being honest, Amy was still a little starstruck. She seemed even shyer than usual. Her head dropped as she wrung her hands.

  “The combs on either side sift through dirt or sand,” Sam explained. “The flexible tines move in waves, pushing any debris toward the center.” She nodded at Amy.

  Amy took out her phone and tapped on the screen. After a few more taps, the machine came to life, slowly inching across the open shoreline. Hypnotic waves rippled toward the center as each tine pitched forward and back, picking up various bits of litter, forcing them toward the center. A crushed soda can, a candy wrapper, and part of a chip bag gracefully danced toward one another, meeting in the middle. They disappeared under the solar panels only to reappear inside the clear bin mounted on the back of the machine.

  “Nice,” Jefferson said. “They kind of look like the legs on a millipede.”

  Sam grinned. “That’s where we got the idea.”

  “Nature has some of the best designs,” Jefferson replied. “And always steal from the best, that’s my motto.”

  While Noah and I watched Sam and Amy’s invention at work, J. J. Jefferson snapped some pics with his phone before moving on to review other students’ inventions. Most of the student volunteers had brought something small to test out, like Kent Jackson’s floating trash sifter or Deena Bittick’s plastic bag collector, which she’d called the Porcupine. Picture a remote-controlled ball covered in thin ten-centimeter spikes—way cool.

  One of the two other large inventions was Jessie Steele’s so
rter. Using a system of magnets, lasers, and some creative programming, her machine ran collected litter up a conveyor belt and separated out the objects that could be recycled. The long rectangular device had different bins on each side and was covered with, and powered by, six small solar panels. From what I had seen in engineering class, its sorting was impressively accurate.

  The final big project was a watercraft, like our sub, but this one was piloted remotely. Tony Garret and Maggie Ortiz had invented a device to collect litter floating along the shoreline. Their craft consisted of two small pontoons, a little shorter than canoes, with a mesh conveyor belt mounted between them. Floating litter would go up the belt, where it would be collected in a large net stretched along the back. A curved fin on either side of the craft would funnel the litter toward the belt. Like many of the other inventions being tested out on this trip, it was powered by solar energy. They’d named it the Basker after basking sharks, which swim along collecting plankton in their open mouths.

  I gazed longingly at the lake and Tony and Maggie in their life vests, floating on either side of their craft as they assembled it in the water. Even though I was still a bit anxious about giving the Advance a proper underwater test run, the inventor in me was ready to try our newest creation.

  After the Beach Comber had traveled several meters, Amy tapped on her phone again to make it stop. She jumped at the light applause from the students and teachers who’d stopped to watch. I don’t think she’d noticed that she and Sam had drawn a crowd.

  “Nice work,” Mr. Edge called.

  “Thanks,” Sam said. Amy nodded and gave a small smile but didn’t say anything.

  As everyone went back to their own inventions, Noah and I joined Sam and Amy as they inspected the ground their machine had just covered. A few scraps of litter were still embedded in the earth.

  “I think we should lower the arms a bit,” Amy suggested. “See if that gets some of that dug-in stuff.”

  Sam nodded. “Good idea.”

  “You need help with that?” Noah asked.

  Sam pulled a wrench out of her back pocket. “No thanks. We added a simple tension spring on either side.”

  Noah looked at me and smiled. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

  I grinned and nodded. “Oh yeah.” It was sub time!

  We turned, ready to head to the dock, when we almost ran right into Mrs. Scott. “Do you know what works best when picking up litter?” she asked holding two pairs of work gloves and two empty garbage bags. “Good old-fashioned elbow grease.”

  Noah shrugged. “What’s elbow grease?”

  “Moving the old elbows,” she answered, holding out the supplies. “Doing things by hand. Since it looks like the invention testing has the shore and water covered, why don’t you two tackle the woods.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said as we took the gloves and bags. It looked like our sub would have to wait.

  Noah and I headed into the nearby trees and began picking up litter as fast as possible. I think we’d had the same idea: the sooner we filled our bags, the sooner we’d get to test our submarine.

  “I don’t get it,” Noah said as he held up an empty soda can. “If people come out here to enjoy the great outdoors, why do they trash the place?” His nose wrinkled as he poured out the liquid still inside before tossing the can into his bag.

  “Beats me,” I replied, pulling a faded, brittle ice bag from a tangle of leaves and twigs. “I guess they think someone else will take care of the mess.”

  Noah shook his head. “Yeah, and today that someone is us.”

  We kept at clearing the litter, not worrying about sorting as we went. We’d leave our bags for Jessie’s sorter. I was sure she’d be glad to have more material to use to test her invention.

  A flash of silver caught my eye, and I dug in the leaves to pull it out before flipping it over. HAPPY BIRTHDAY was written across the other side in big bright letters. I held the Mylar up for Noah to see. “I guess someone’s balloon got away from them.”

  “Oh yeah,” Noah agreed; then he shook his head. “Can you believe people still do those big balloon releases? I mean, they know those things have to come down somewhere, right? That’s just mass littering, if you ask me.”

  It was hard not to share my friend’s disgust as our trash bags got heavier. If all this litter was from only a week of neglect, I’d hate to see what the campgrounds would look like if the park rangers never came through to clean up.

  When our bags were almost full, Mrs. Scott arrived to check on our progress. “You fellas want to put a pin in that for a while? Tony and Maggie have been looking for you. I think they could use your help.”

  She didn’t have to ask us twice. We followed her out of the woods, dropping our gloves and bags near the sorter before veering off toward the shore. Tony and Maggie’s invention inched along the water’s edge as the conveyor belt sifted out floating garbage.

  “I wonder what they need help with,” I said. “Everything looks fine from here.”

  Noah glanced over his shoulder to make sure Mrs. Scott was out of earshot. “Dude, anything’s better than picking up trash.”

  Spotting us, Tony waved as he stepped away from the bank. He had a towel draped over his shoulders, and it looked like he was shivering.

  “That water’s not cold, is it, this early in the spring?” Noah asked with a smirk.

  Tony grimaced and held up his phone. “I tried to get some video of the underside of our invention at work.” His phone was encased in a clear pouch. “The video quality isn’t so good shooting it through my dry bag.”

  “The underside, you say?” Noah asked with a sly grin. “Like through the view port of a brand-new submarine?”

  Tony nodded. “That’s what I was thinking.”

  Noah and I smiled at each other. “I bet we could arrange that,” I said before we took off toward the dock.

  I was going to shoot my dad a text, but luckily, we passed him on the way. “Get your radio ready,” I said without slowing down. “We’re going for a test dive.”

  “Great!” he replied.

  When we reached the sub, Noah unclamped the front hatch while I opened the back one, which had just been resting shut since we’d propped a small solar panel on the dock to charge the Advance while we were away. Wires trailed from the panel into the rear hatch, where they attached to the onboard battery.

  “What’s our charge?” I asked as I leaned inside to remove the clamps from the battery.

  Noah reached in and held down a toggle switch, and the battery charge appeared on a small screen. “One hundred percent.”

  “Nice,” I said as I carefully removed a round piece of foam from the back seat.

  Noah reached into the back hatch once I was clear. He carefully pulled out a thick coil of hose and wire—our submarine’s snorkel. While Noah attached one end to the stern of the submarine, I fastened the other to the float. We’d also added an antenna so we could communicate with whoever had the radio on shore, since we couldn’t count on cell coverage being great several meters underwater. I pushed the float into the water and carefully fed out the long hose.

  Once everything was set, Noah began to climb into the front hatch.

  “Hold up,” I called. “My turn to drive, remember?”

  Noah grinned. “I was afraid you’d remember that,” he said as he moved to the stern.

  Once he was past, I stepped into the front opening and reached down to unclip the line from where it was attached to the long rail on the side.

  “I can cast you off,” Mr. Edge said as he walked out onto the dock.

  “Thanks,” Noah said, settling into the seat behind me.

  “Now, you two be careful,” our teacher warned.

  I met his eye and felt that wave of anxiety wash over me again. I don’t know why, but his concern shook my confidence. Maybe Mr. Edge was especially concerned because I was usually the act-first-and-make-a-plan-on-the-fly guy.

  But not this ti
me. Sure, this was our most ambitious invention yet, but I was positive Noah and I had all contingencies covered. We had designed the sub to ascend if it lost power. We had a radio and an onboard compass. We even had an emergency air tank inside. We’d gone through everything that could possibly go wrong and come up with a protocol to address it. Even so, Mr. Edge’s concern made me worry that maybe we’d forgotten something.

  After Noah and I had both settled in, I gave a nervous wave to our teacher before closing my hatch and pulling the lever that made a watertight seal. “Hatch one sealed,” I announced.

  “Hatch two sealed,” Noah called behind me. “Switching on the air pump.”

  I heard the switch click, followed by a soft whir. After a couple of seconds, I felt a cool breeze as fresh air began pumping into the sub.

  Reaching over, I removed the small radio from its mount. A thin insulated wire connected it to the antenna at the end of the sub’s long snorkel. “Radio check.”

  “I hear you loud and clear,” my dad’s voice squawked from the tiny speaker. “Be careful and good luck.”

  “Thanks,” I replied before returning the radio to its mount. Then I turned and smiled at Noah through our clear domes. “You ready?”

  “Let’s do this!”

  “Powering up,” I announced, reaching for the throttle. Water churned behind us as the sub moved away from the dock.

  Turning the small steering wheel, I guided the sub away from shore, bringing us about in a small arc before pushing the wheel away. This motion pulled cables running along the inside of the sub back toward the propeller, angling it down so we’d dive. Water splashed over the front of my dome as the sky disappeared, and the sound of the propeller softened as our submarine slipped completely underwater.

  We’d done it. Our submarine worked!

  6 The Successful Assessment

  “HOW’S IT LOOK, FELLAS?” MY dad’s voice asked over the radio.

  Part of me heard his question, but I was too busy gazing at the underwater environment to respond. I smiled as I watched schools of fish swim by. When people walk into a forest, most wildlife scatters and hides. But I’d learned from scuba diving that underwater, the wildlife may flee at first, but they usually come back to investigate.