with flashes of light and then—bam!—a complete
toy would be floating in front of him. Sky Writerz, Fib Finder Penz, Transplantz, Bubble Chase—all forty-nine ideas had come
to Vincent that way. The ideas looked so real he often tried to touch them, only to grab a handful of air.
Vincent could see every hair, every gear, every detail of each invention. But when it hit, the invention was the
only
thing Vincent could see. The rest of the world went black. Sometimes the blindness only lasted a few seconds. Sometimes it
would last for hours.
Vincent’s first idea hit him three years ago on his eighth birthday. It was the Everlasting H2O Gun, a squirt gun with a built-in
dehumidifier so it would never run out of water.
Vincent had been playing catch with his father in the park. His dad had just released the ball when Vincent saw flashes of
light, and then his world went black for the first time. The ball hit him in the forehead, knocking him to the ground. Vincent
could hear his father’s voice, but the only thing he could see was a giant green and gold squirt gun floating in front of
him. This terrified him. And when he told his parents, it terrified them, too.
Three more ideas struck Vincent that week. Each one was accompanied by flashes of light, darkness, and then an incredible
toy invention. Vincent quickly realized that he could spin, twist, and even play with the inventions in his head. He was sure
he was going crazy. His parents were sure he was sick.
They took him from doctor to doctor. Each one poked, prodded, and took blood. Lots of blood. And asked questions. Lots of
questions. But none of the doctors had answers.
The night before Vincent was to visit yet another doctor, his mom stopped in his room to kiss him good night, as she did every
night. Vincent was busy sketching in his notebook, as he did every night. But he wasn’t sketching Picassos, van Goghs, or
Salvador Dalís. He was drawing baseball bats that would quadruple in size when swung, bubble wands that would capture sound
in the bubbles, and rockets that would soar high up in the sky and pop into kites. His mom asked him about the sketches, and
Vincent said they were his ideas. His inventions.
It was then that Vincent’s mom realized her son had a gift. She remembered reading that the great inventor Nikola Tesla had
similar blinding experiences as a young man.
But to Vincent the visions were no gift. “Why can’t I be like everyone else?” he asked. He knew the kids at school would call
him “crazy” if they found out that he saw things. He made his mom promise never to tell anyone about his inventions. Not even
his father. She agreed to keep the secret and promised to help him draw and build his toy inventions. From that day on, they
would attribute Vincent’s blinding spells to migraines.
More than twenty toy ideas hit Vincent in the following six months. His mother helped him with his sketches, and on the nights
and weekends that Vincent’s dad was working, they built a secret lab—complete with a hidden door—in the unfinished attic space
behind his closet. They filled the lab with everything they would need to bring his inventions to life: hammers, saws, drills,
test tubes, beakers, glue, duct tape. His mother even created an elaborate alarm system to warn Vincent whenever someone was
coming up the stairs. They spent almost ten months working on the secret lab before she got sick.
That was two years ago. Since then, Vincent spent most of his free time in the lab working on his inventions. Just as Tesla
had—and just as his mother would have wanted him to do.
THE GREAT MR. TESLA
7
After a short nap, Vincent opened his eyes and the Biting Beast Ball was gone. He jumped out of bed, looked around his room, and grabbed the
New York Times
Stella had set on his dresser. On the front page, there was a black-and-white photo of a very old Nikola Tesla, with the
following story.
TESLA
toy would be floating in front of him. Sky Writerz, Fib Finder Penz, Transplantz, Bubble Chase—all forty-nine ideas had come
to Vincent that way. The ideas looked so real he often tried to touch them, only to grab a handful of air.
Vincent could see every hair, every gear, every detail of each invention. But when it hit, the invention was the
only
thing Vincent could see. The rest of the world went black. Sometimes the blindness only lasted a few seconds. Sometimes it
would last for hours.
Vincent’s first idea hit him three years ago on his eighth birthday. It was the Everlasting H2O Gun, a squirt gun with a built-in
dehumidifier so it would never run out of water.
Vincent had been playing catch with his father in the park. His dad had just released the ball when Vincent saw flashes of
light, and then his world went black for the first time. The ball hit him in the forehead, knocking him to the ground. Vincent
could hear his father’s voice, but the only thing he could see was a giant green and gold squirt gun floating in front of
him. This terrified him. And when he told his parents, it terrified them, too.
Three more ideas struck Vincent that week. Each one was accompanied by flashes of light, darkness, and then an incredible
toy invention. Vincent quickly realized that he could spin, twist, and even play with the inventions in his head. He was sure
he was going crazy. His parents were sure he was sick.
They took him from doctor to doctor. Each one poked, prodded, and took blood. Lots of blood. And asked questions. Lots of
questions. But none of the doctors had answers.
The night before Vincent was to visit yet another doctor, his mom stopped in his room to kiss him good night, as she did every
night. Vincent was busy sketching in his notebook, as he did every night. But he wasn’t sketching Picassos, van Goghs, or
Salvador Dalís. He was drawing baseball bats that would quadruple in size when swung, bubble wands that would capture sound
in the bubbles, and rockets that would soar high up in the sky and pop into kites. His mom asked him about the sketches, and
Vincent said they were his ideas. His inventions.
It was then that Vincent’s mom realized her son had a gift. She remembered reading that the great inventor Nikola Tesla had
similar blinding experiences as a young man.
But to Vincent the visions were no gift. “Why can’t I be like everyone else?” he asked. He knew the kids at school would call
him “crazy” if they found out that he saw things. He made his mom promise never to tell anyone about his inventions. Not even
his father. She agreed to keep the secret and promised to help him draw and build his toy inventions. From that day on, they
would attribute Vincent’s blinding spells to migraines.
More than twenty toy ideas hit Vincent in the following six months. His mother helped him with his sketches, and on the nights
and weekends that Vincent’s dad was working, they built a secret lab—complete with a hidden door—in the unfinished attic space
behind his closet. They filled the lab with everything they would need to bring his inventions to life: hammers, saws, drills,
test tubes, beakers, glue, duct tape. His mother even created an elaborate alarm system to warn Vincent whenever someone was
coming up the stairs. They spent almost ten months working on the secret lab before she got sick.
That was two years ago. Since then, Vincent spent most of his free time in the lab working on his inventions. Just as Tesla
had—and just as his mother would have wanted him to do.
THE GREAT MR. TESLA
7
After a short nap, Vincent opened his eyes and the Biting Beast Ball was gone. He jumped out of bed, looked around his room, and grabbed the
New York Times
Stella had set on his dresser. On the front page, there was a black-and-white photo of a very old Nikola Tesla, with the
following story.
TESLA
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