didnât surprise Rick at all. His father had made a fortune creating new engines, robots, and other incredible inventions, but his passion had always been for ridding the world of waste. Whether turning old landfills into public parks or recycling bottles and cans into motorcycles, Dad was always trying to make the grass greener, the ocean bluer, and the air clearer.
âWhat are we doing way out here, then?â Evie asked. âThereâs no garbage out here.â
âQuite the contrary,â Dad replied. âTake a look out the front window.â
Rick wrenched his face in disgust as he peered down at the water. There was so much trash it made the Buhana Jungle look like the wastebasket under his bathroom sink.
What appeared to be the worldâs largest collection of empty drink bottles covered the water. They bobbed on the waves, gray weathered plastic reflecting the sunâs harsh rays. The labels that had not fallen off the bottles were faded white.
âDid a Pepsi shipping freighter sink?â Evie asked.
2-Tor wagged a metal feather at her. âEvelyn, you know quite well that is incorrect.â
âAny ideas, Rick?â George asked.
Rick adjusted his glasses. âAccording to the
Roost
âs Global Positioning System, at the moment we are flying over whatâs known as the North Pacific Gyre. Itâs an area in the Pacific where a bunch of ocean currents swirl together in a kind of vortex. That must be what brought all this trash here. People litter, then the trash gets washed out to sea. The trash floats along with the currents until it ends up here. But, Dad, we really need to talk about Winterpole. Whatâs Mom going to say when she finds outââ
His father interrupted, âOcean currents! Exactly right, Rick. Well done!â
Evie scowled. âGive me a second and I could have come up with that answer too.â
In the distance, what looked like a big island came into view. As the hovership got closer, Rick saw that it was a giant mountain of trash. It was so enormous he couldnât see the ends of it. It stretched to infinity in three directions. Rolling hills of milk jugs, soda cans, car tires, and shopping bags. Vast plains of yogurt cups and potato chip cans, dotted with little green baskets that used to house strawberries and crumpled plastic sheets peeled off the back of fruit roll-ups.
There were a million specks of junk. Stretched and worn and waterlogged, the expanse of trash created a surface that looked almost dense enough to walk on.
âOh, Iâve heard about this!â Evie said. âThe Great Pacific Garbage Patch.â
Rick had heard about it tooâall the garbage in the North Pacific Gyre sticking together to create one immense island in the middle of the ocean. âIs it really the size of Texas?â he asked.
His father chortled. âOh-ho, no. Itâs nothing like that. Well, sort of. This here, what most people consider the garbage patch, is actually just a tiny piece of it. Itâs not as large as Texas. More like . . . Rhode Island. But weâve scooped up trash from all over the oceans and transported it here. Most of the garbage patch, which is
twice
the size of Texas, is more like a filmy soup of chemicals with little bits of weathered plastic floating in it. Smells awful!â He pinched his nose for effect.
âAre you trying to clean up the garbage patch?â Evie asked.
Hearing her question, Rick knew that this couldnât quite be it. If it was, then why would his father have
brought
additional trash here instead of just disposing of the trash that already existed?
Sure enough, Dad replied, âNot exactly! Look over there!â He pointed out the window at what appeared to be a trio of enormous metal elephants floating on the water. Each machine was so big that just one of them could easily fill Rickâs school gymnasium. All stood rigidly at attention, gray legs