Artemis Fowl and the Atlantis Complex

Artemis cleared his throat and switched his focus from numbers to the project, or, as he liked to think of it, THE PROJECT. In the end, when it came down to it, this was the only plan that mattered.

Holly punched his shoulder gently.

“You look pale. Even paler than usual. You okay, birthday boy?”

Artemis finally succeeded in meeting her eyes-one hazel, one blue-framed by a wide brow and a slash of auburn fringe, which Holly had grown out from her usual crew cut.

“Fifteen years old today,” muttered Artemis. “Three fives. That’s a good thing.”

Holly blinked.

Artemis Fowl muttering? And no mention of her new hairstyle- usually Artemis picked up on physical changes straight away.

“I. . ah. . I suppose so. Where’s Butler? Scouting the perimeter?”

“No. No, I sent him away. Juliet needed him.”

“Nothing too serious?”

“Not serious but necessary. Family business. He trusts you to look after me.”

Holly’s lips tightened as though she had tasted something sour.

“He trusts somebody else to shepherd his principal? Are you sure this is Butler we’re talking about?”

“Of course. And anyway, it’s better that he’s not here. Whenever my plans go awry, he’s close at hand. It’s vital, imperative, that this meeting go ahead and that nothing goes wrong.”

Holly’s jaw actually dropped in shock. It was almost comical to see. If she understood Artemis correctly, he was blaming Butler for the failure of previous schemes. Butler? His staunchest ally?

“Good idea. Let’s go ahead, then. The four of us should get this show on the road.”

This from Foaly, who had spoken the dreaded number with no thought for the consequences.

Four. Very bad number. The absolute worst. Chinese people hate the number four because it sounds like their word for death.

Almost worse than saying the number four was the fact that there were only four people in the room. Commander Trouble Kelp had apparently not been able to make it. In spite of their historic dislike for each other, Artemis wished the commander were here now.

“Where is Commander Kelp, Holly? I thought he was attending today. We could use the protection.”

Holly stood at the table, ramrod straight in her blue jumpsuit, acorn cluster glittering on her chest.

“Trouble. . Commander Kelp has enough to deal with in Police Plaza, but don’t worry. There’s an entire squadron of LEPtactical hovering overhead in a shielded shuttle. Not even a snow fox could make it in here without a singed tail.”

Artemis shucked off his snow jacket and gloves. “Thank you, Captain. I am encouraged by your thoroughness. As a matter of interest, how many fairies are there in an LEP squadron? Exactly?”

“Fourteen,” replied Holly, one jagged eyebrow raised.

“Fourteen. Hmm. That is not so. .” Then a lightbulb moment. “And a pilot, I presume?”

“Fourteen including the pilot. That’s enough to take on any human squadron you care to throw at them.”

For a moment it seemed as though Artemis Fowl would turn around and flee the meeting that he himself had requested. A tendon tugged at his neck, and one forefinger tapped the chair’s wooden headrest. Then Artemis swallowed and nodded with a nervousness that escaped from him like a canary from a cat’s mouth before being swallowed back down.

“Very well. Fourteen will have to do. Please, Holly, sit. Let me tell you about the project.”

Holly backed up slowly, searching Artemis’s face for the cockiness that usually dwelled in his smirk lines. It was not there.

Whatever this project is, she thought, it’s big.

Artemis placed his case on the table, popped it open, and spun the lid to reveal a screen inside. For a moment his delight in gadgetry surfaced, and he even managed a faint grin in Foaly’s direction. The grin stretched his lips no more than an inch.

“Look. You’ll like this little box.”

Foaly snickered. “Oh my stars! Is that. . could that possibly be. . a laptop? You have shamed us all with your brilliance, Arty.”

The centaur’s sarcasm drew groans from everyone.

“What?” he protested. “It’s a laptop. Even humans can’t expect anyone to be impressed by a laptop.”

“If I know Artemis,” said Holly, “something impressive is about to happen. Am I right?”

“You may judge for yourself,” said Artemis, pressing his thumb against a scanner on the case.

The scanner flickered, considering the proffered thumb, then flashed green, deciding to accept it. Nothing happened for a second or two, then a motor inside the case buzzed as though there were a small satisfied cat stretching in the case’s belly.

“Motor,” said Foaly. “Big deal.”

The lid’s reinforced metal corners suddenly detached, blasting away from the lid with a squirt of propellant, and suckered themselves to the ceiling. Simultaneously, the screen unfolded until it was more than three feet square with speaker bars along each edge.

“So it’s a big screen,” Foaly said. “This is just grandstanding. All we needed were a few sets of V- goggles.”

Artemis pressed another button on the case, and the metal corners suckered to the ceiling revealed themselves to be projectors, spewing forth streams of digi-data that coalesced in the center of the room to form a rotating model of the planet Earth. The screen displayed the Fowl Industries company logo surrounded by a number of files.

“It’s a holographic case,” said Foaly, delighted to remain unimpressed. “We’ve had those for years.”

“It is not a holographic case-the case is completely real,” corrected Artemis. “But the images you will see are holographic. I have made a few upgrades to the LEP system. The case is synced with several satellites, and the onboard computers can construct real-time images of objects not inside the sensors’ range.”

“I’ve got one of those at home,” mumbled the centaur. “For my kids’ game console.”

“And the system has smart interactive intelligence so I can construct or alter models by hand, so long as I’m wearing V-gloves,” Artemis went on.

Foaly scowled. “Okay, Mud Boy. That is good.” But he couldn’t help adding the P.S.: “For a human.”

Vinyaya’s pupils contracted in the light from the projectors. “This is all very pretty, Fowl, but we still don’t know the point of this meeting.”

Artemis stepped into the hologram and inserted his hands into two V-gloves floating over Australia. The gloves were slightly transparent with thick tubular digits and an unsophisticated polystyrene-look render. Once again the briefcase’s sensor flickered thoughtfully before deciding to accept Artemis’s hands. The gloves beeped softly and shrank to form a second skin around his fingers, each knuckle highlighted by a digi-marker.

“Earth,” he began, ignoring the impulse to open his notes folder and count the words. He knew this lecture by heart.

“Our home. She feeds us, she shelters us. Her gravity prevents us from flying off into space and freezing, before thawing out again and being crisped by the sun, none of which really matters, as we would have long since asphyxiated.” Artemis paused for laughter and was surprised when it did not arrive. “That was a little joke. I read in a presentation manual that a joke often serves to break the ice. And I actually worked icebreaking into the joke, so there were layers to my humor.”

“That was a joke?” said Vinyaya. “I’ve had officers court-martialed for less.”

“If I had some rotten fruit, I would throw it,” added Foaly. “Why don’t you do the science and leave the jokes to people with experience?”

Artemis frowned, upset that he had ad-libbed, and now could not be certain how many words were in his presentation. If he finished on a multiple of four that was not also a multiple of five, that could be very bad. Perhaps he should start again? But that was cheating, and the number gods would simply add the two speeches together and he’d be no better off.