ABACUS Read Free Page A

wasn’t happening back in North America, where there were bears and wolves to worry about.
    Just as they were getting comfortable, a bloodcurdling screech ripped through the silence.
    â€œWhat’s that?” gasped Kate.
    â€œOnly an owl—I think. Let’s forget it and try to sleep. I’m exhausted.”
    They both slept fitfully. At one point AP sat bolt upright, convinced he’d just seen a bear ambling through the trees. But bears didn’t exist in England. He lay down again, closed his eyes, and tried blotting out the forest.
    When they awoke the following morning and discovered how they were dressed, Kate was horrified.
    â€œWhat am I doing in this?” she shrieked. A drab blue dress hung shapelessly from her shoulders to her ankles. “It’s so gross.” She wore flat-soled shoes of soft leather, like moccasins. They reached up to her ankles and were tied with leather strips.
    â€œWhat about me?” AP groaned, sounding equally offended, though he had no interest in clothes.
    His long-sleeved tunic was knee-length and made of coarse brown material, like the burlap used to wrap shrubs in the fall. A wide leather belt with a heavy buckle held up his pants.
    â€œYou look good for a change,” she quipped, unable to suppress a grin.
    Suddenly remembering the African crate, AP put a hand to his chest. The abacus was still there. Surely this all had to do with the pendant. Pulling it out from beneath his tunic, he started turning it over in his hands. He could only see the beads from one side and the back looked like a plain rectangle of wood. Then, for the first time, he noticed a tiny white button. “Hey, look at this! Should I give it a try?”
    â€œSure. Whatever.”
    As soon as AP pressed the button, the abacus lit up with a map of the world, each country outlined in brilliant blue.
    Both stared down with gaping mouths.
    â€œHow does it do that?” asked Kate incredulously. “And how come the map’s tiny, yet we can see each country in detail, like an enlargement?”
    â€œNo idea,” admitted AP, shaking his head.
    â€œAnd what’s all that?” She pointed to the bottom of the map where the South Pacific was filled with numbers. The first was 2009, the year, but she didn’t recognize the second.
    â€œThat’s the number I picked to show how an abacus works.” A red circle in front of the 1524 had a flashing minus sign inside.
    Ignoring this for the moment, he pointed to the numbers beneath it: s = 2,551,442.9s.
    â€œLooks like some sort of equation. But I can’t figure it out.” Then AP had an idea. “Look,” he said, tapping the flashing sign in front of the number 1524. Each time he did so it changed from plus to minus. “The map’s a touch-screen.”
    Then he noticed a flashing red dot over England, surrounded by a circle. When he tried touching this, nothing happened. But when he slid his finger along the map, the dot followed. He parked the spot on Sweden and it stayed there, but stopped flashing. When he moved it back to its circle over England, it began flashing again.
    â€œI know what’s happened,” AP began. “This is some sort of time machine and we’ve been—”
    Suddenly the sound of voices drifted through the forest.
    â€œQuick!” whispered AP, grabbing Kate’s arm. “Get behind that tree.”
    Safely hidden from view, they watched in silence as a small procession made its way along a well-worn footpath. Thirty or forty people walked by—men, women and children—dressed in simple clothes like Kate and AP’s. Most carried wicker baskets on their backs, filled with vegetables, apples, loaves of bread, sacks of grain and balls of coarse wool. Two of the men carried a live pig, slung from a pole between its tethered feet.
    â€œCome on,” said AP when the procession was out of sight, “let’s follow