فصل سوم

chapter-3

“Racing through the first turn, it’s Seabiscuit leading in a surprise move!” cried the scratchy recorded voice of an old-fashioned racetrack announcer talking through his nose.

Kyle and his friends leapt out of the way as the two horses and their jockeys whipped around the rim of the rotunda as if it were a racetrack.

The breathless announcer kept going.

“Seabiscuit is in the lead by one length…two lengths. War Admiral is right on his heels.” Dust clouds billowed up behind the holographic horses’ dirt-churning hooves.

“Down the back stretch. There goes War Admiral after him. Now the horse race is on. They’re neck and neck, head and head, nose and nose. And it is either one; take your choice.” Kyle could feel the floor quaking as the two powerful horses galloped around the room.

“Go, Seabiscuit!” shouted Sierra, waving her book in the air.

“Both jockeys driving!” cried the track announcer. “It’s horse against horse. Seabiscuit leads by a length. Now Seabiscuit by a length and a half. Seabiscuit by three! Seabiscuit is the winner!” The horses vanished.

“Woo-hoo!” shouted Kyle.

“Whoa!” cried Miguel. “That was amazing!”

“That was Seabiscuit and War Admiral from their match race of 1938 at Pimlico—a racetrack near Baltimore,” said Sierra.

“It was unreal,” said Akimi.

“I know,” said Kyle. “It was incredible!”

“No, I mean it wasn’t real! You could see through the horses!” “Those stupid horses scared me!” whined Andrew Peckleman, sliding his goggle-sized glasses up the bridge of his nose with one finger. “I thought they were going to run right over us. Then I realized they were just holograms!” “Well, Andrew,” said Mr. Lemoncello, “let this be a lesson to us all: The first answer isn’t always the best answer. Chet?” “Yes, sir?”

“Tell them about our brand-new Nonfictionator.”

“Sorry, sir. No can do. That information is top-secret, classified, and, I believe, restrictified. I also believe that ‘restrictified’ is not an actual word.” “Actually, it’s a new word—one I invented and wrote down with my frindle! Plus, I hereby and forthwith—not to mention fifthwith—officially declassify and derestrictify the information in question.” Mr. Lemoncello turned to the kids. “Mr. Raymo is new here at the library and somewhat shy. Perhaps, if you clap your hands as you would for Tinker Bell, we can convince him to tell us about our new Nonfictionator!” Everybody clapped. Kyle even whistled.

“Very well.” Mr. Raymo stood up and smoothed out his lab coat. “Thanks to its high-speed processor and enormous database, the Nonfictionator can generate historical holograms capable of conversing with our library patrons. Ask a question, they’ll answer it. The Nonfictionator can bring historical characters to interactive life.” “With this new invention,” added Mr. Lemoncello, “nonfiction doesn’t have to be dry and dusty, unless, of course, it’s a horse race or Lawrence of Arabia. Chet, if you please—astound me!” “Yes, sir,” said Mr. Raymo. He tapped the glass on his tablet computer.

“Careful, dear,” trilled a voice from the second floor. “I smell horse poop.” “I am very familiar with horse droppings,” said another.

“That’s Eleanor Roosevelt,” said Akimi, grabbing Kyle’s arm. “She’s my hero!” “And Sacagawea!” added Miguel. “The Shoshone interpreter and guide from the Lewis and Clark expedition!” The two holographic women descended a spiral staircase from the second floor.

“Go ahead,” said Mr. Lemoncello. “Ask them a question.” Kyle couldn’t resist. “Um, Ms. Sacagawea, how come you know so much about horse poop?” “Because I know much about horses,” she replied. “In 1805, when I was the only woman traveling with Lewis and Clark, they needed fresh horses to cross the Rockies. I helped them barter a pony deal with the nearest Shoshone tribe, whose leader turned out to be my long-lost brother, Cameahwait.” “Fascinating,” said Eleanor Roosevelt. “We could’ve used your negotiating skills when creating the United Nations.” The two women drifted across the library floor toward one of the meeting rooms and then vanished.

“Now, that’s incredible,” said Andrew.

Kyle snapped his fingers. “With the Nonfictionator, we could create all sorts of new exhibits where historical holograms answer questions people ask them!” Mr. Lemoncello slapped himself in the forehead. “Why didn’t I think of that? Oh, wait. I did. Several months ago.” “Is this why we’re having that special board of trustees meeting this weekend?” asked Andrew. “To unveil your new invention?” “Perhaps,” said Mr. Lemoncello mischievously. “I also have a very special announcement to make. Something that will definitely keep several board members from being bored! Oh—slight change of plans. Instead of meeting here at the library, we will gather at my new home!” He handed out flashy business cards with an address printed on them.

“You have a new house?” asked Miguel.

“Well, it’s new to me! Moved in on Tuesday. I would’ve moved in sooner, but it took them longer than anticipated to install the floor in the living room.” “Why’d it take so long?” asked Akimi.

“Because,” said Mr. Lemoncello, “it’s a trampoline.” Okay, thought Kyle. Witnessing a famous horse race and chatting with historical characters was cool. But a trampoline floor?

That was going to be awesome!