From who knows where, she produced a wheelchair with a Smarty-Pants Science Corporation logo on the back. We helped the injured Lal into the chair, and Sadie took charge of pushing it out of the break room and down a long lab hallway.
As we all walked, K. P. Babu turned to Bunty and asked, “Now, tiger, tell me the secret to your killer serve. How do you get that topspin?”
Lal and Sadie were at the lead, while Bunty, K. P. Das, and Tuni were chatting in happy tones about table tennis. So that left Neel and me to walk quietly together at the end of the group.
He wasn’t looking at me, and I felt a twinge of guilt at how upset he seemed. “Neel, I didn’t want to hurt your feelings, really, but I can’t think of another explanation as to why Pinki would want to marry Sesha.”
“Feelings hurt? My feelings aren’t hurt, what makes you say that?” snapped Neel in a way that kind of proved the opposite point. “No, Kiran, you’re right, as usual. Once a villain, always a villain. My mom’s obviously marrying Sesha to be a part of his latest dastardly plan. I’m probably just not thinking straight. Being in that detention center obviously messed me up bad. Gosh, I can’t even trust my own judgment anymore.”
“Hey, I didn’t mean any of that,” I protested.
“No, seriously. I’m so, so glad you’re here to set me right,” Neel said, still refusing to look at me.
“It’s just a theory,” I said, trying to be nice. “Like K. P. Babu said, we should gather some more facts or whatever before we assume our theory’s right.”
“Your theory,” Neel muttered. “Not mine.”
Ugh. How could he be so gullible? I crossed my arms over my chest. “I wonder where my invitation went? There’s a strict ‘no rakkhosh’ policy on the invite, but they still sent you a card.”
Neel snorted. “Are you seriously upset that your killer of a serpent dad didn’t invite you to his wedding?”
“No, I just—well, maybe,” I said, feeling unnecessarily flustered. “I don’t know. I hate him, but he’s also my bio dad. And also, well, I hate him.”
“Yeah, I know how that one goes.” Neel looked down at his feet. “It’s hard to figure out how I feel about my mom too. Obviously.”
I didn’t have a chance to respond, because just then Sadie pushed open the steel double doors to the atom-smasher laboratory.
“Whoa!” I glanced at Neel, who just shrugged and moved away.
But Bunty the tiger heard my words. “Impressive, is it not? I felt the same way when I first got here.”
I felt torn, like I should go after Neel and make up with him, but I also didn’t want to make a scene in front of the others. So I just ignored the grumpy prince and looked around the room some more. Impressive was an understatement. The room was dark and cool, with ceilings so high I wasn’t even sure how far up they were. There were pipes and tubes—blue, silver, red—running in twisting patterns over the wall, all toward a big mechanical eye at the far end of the room.
“That’s the atom smasher.” Sadie pointed at the eye thing. “Where my colleagues and I try to re-create the conditions of the big bang. Conveniently, it can also double as an interdimensional wormhole maker.”
The atom smasher had a bright blue sphere at the center of a bunch of complicated gears and clock innards that moved constantly around it. Interlocking, shifting, opening, refitting together, the movement of the gears was absolutely mesmerizing. And just to the side of the giant eye-clock thing was a very welcome old friend.
“Raat!” I cried, running over to the winged horse and putting my arms around his neck. He was Neel’s horse but had served me well on my last adventure, when I was shutting down Sesha’s evil game show, Who Wants to Be a Demon Slayer?
Princess! the midnight-black horse said into my mind. I brought my boy to you across the dimensions.
“Yes, I know you did, my wonderful friend,” I murmured, sneaking a look over at Neel. The prince was standing alone, looking into space, chewing on a nail. I felt a confusing flood of emotions rush through me at how sad Neel was looking. My face felt so hot, I pressed my nose into Raat’s velvety temple. His wings expanded and contracted in pleasure.
And then I heard the familiar, accented voice right above our heads. “Ev-ry-sing is connected to ev-ry-sing.”
“But how?” I responded. Raat whinnied, looking up too. We were staring into the face of the scientist I’d met on my first trip to the Kingdom Beyond. He was floating in midair, legs folded, like he was meditating. Just like he’d been the first time I’d seen him.
“Smartie-ji!” chirped Tuni, flying up to give the floating scientist an affectionate peck on the cheek. “How’s it hangin’?”
That’s right, it was Albert Einstein, one of the world’s most famous scientists, hanging out in this atom-smashing lab in Parsippany, New Jersey. Never mind he was defying gravity. Also never mind he was actually dead.
“How are you, Einstein-ji?” I said respectfully, putting my hands together in a namaskar. “Can I introduce you …”
“No need, no need!” said Albert Einstein in his distinctive accent. “I’ve spent a most pleasant day being taught ze rules of foosball by your tiger and bird friends here. And of course I know ze Princes Lalkamal and Neelkamal.”
Lal waved happily at the scientist, but Neel just gave a little head nod.
The scientist went on, “Ze good pakkhiraj horse and I just had to take a small break from the fray when, ahem, some people started to get rather competitive with ze table tennis!”
Competition stresses me out, Raat admitted into my mind.
Shady Sadie and K. P. Das looked guiltily at the floor, but they didn’t say anything. Everyone seemed a little bit in awe of the famous scientist. Maybe it was the fact that he’d discovered important scientific formulas like E = mc2 or maybe it was just that he was the only one among us who wasn’t supposed to be alive.
The other strange thing about Einstein-ji (well, other than him just being there) was how he was dressed. The last time we’d seen him, he’d been wearing a turban, kurta, and pajamas. Now he was in gray robes and a floppy gray wizard’s hat, and carrying a wand that he kept twirling and tossing in the air like some kind of overage marching band baton twirler. His outfit reminded me too much of a certain wizarding headmaster from another famous story, but I decided to keep quiet about the scientist’s fashion choices.
“How are the star babies, Smartie-ji?” Neel asked. He was referring to the fact that the last time we’d seen him, Einstein-ji was teaching star nursery school in an outer space nebula known in the other dimension as Maya Pahar. “I didn’t ask you before, but did you retire from teaching?”
“Oh, I’m just here temporarily, so I got a substitute!” Albert Einstein flipped, so his folded legs were up and his head was down. Despite this feat of gravity, his wizard’s hat stayed on his head. “Dr. Hawking is very popular with ze star babies! He is most excellent at remembering ze nursery rhymes and playing ring around ze rosie.”
“Dr. Hawking?” I asked. “Like Dr. Stephen Hawking?”
“Ze one and ze same!” said Einstein-ji, pointing at me with his wand.