CHAPTER FOUR — THE MISSING ROBOT

Oliver entered with his usual smile, but his eyes found Carol immediately.
“Mrs. Briggs,” he said.
“You two know each other?” Ethan asked.
“We met at an orientation session,” Oliver replied.
“My granddaughter attended that session,” Carol said.
Oliver tilted his head.
“Of course. Nell. An impressive young engineer.”
“She isn’t an engineer yet,” Carol said.
“She could be.”
Oliver set his laptop on a workbench.
“I hope we’re not discussing the unfortunate incident at the pool.”
“We are,” Ethan said.
Oliver looked toward the open garage door.
“Someone contaminated our competition site.”
“It’s my pool,

” Ethan replied.
“And I agreed to a contest, not to let you decide who gets near it.”
Oliver held up both hands.
“I don’t want an argument.”
“Then tell me why an orange propeller guard is caught under the drain.”
Oliver went still for a moment.
“A test unit must have shed a piece,” he said.
“Which test unit?”
“We’re cataloguing them.”
“Was it yours or a student’s?”
“That’s a technical question.”
“It has a simple answer.”
Oliver closed the laptop.
“I can arrange for a private pool technician to retrieve it.”
“My pool company is coming on Monday.”
“Monday will be too late.

”
“For what?”
Oliver glanced at Carol.
“For the competition.”
“The competition can move,” Ethan said.
“Not easily.”
Oliver leaned closer.
“Families are traveling. Sponsors paid for signage. Several students need Saturday’s result for their scholarship applications.”
Ethan felt the weight of those consequences.
He had promised the children a public demonstration.
He had also been careless about reading the agreements Oliver had distributed.
“What is your plan?” Ethan asked.
“We’ll skim the water, use a clarifier, and resume tomorrow.”
“You want to run robots with that piece trapped under the drain?”
“It isn’t dangerous.”
“Then you won’t mind explaining why you told Nell she could be accused of stealing technology.

”
Oliver turned toward Carol.
“She told you that?”
“She told me,” Carol answered.
Oliver smiled with no warmth.
“Teenagers misunderstand serious conversations.”
“Then have the serious conversation with her parents,” Ethan said.
“Gladly.”
Oliver reopened his laptop and began tapping.
A few seconds later, a message arrived on Ethan’s phone.
It was a proposed statement for every parent to sign, confirming that Blue Current owned all competition footage, test data, designs, and derivative inventions.
Ethan read it twice.
“This wasn’t in the permission form we gave them,” he said.
“It’s a clarification.”
“It changes ownership.”
“It protects the organization from future misunderstandings.

”
Ethan looked at Carol.
She had been right about the agreement, if not about how to handle the problem.
“I’m suspending the event,” he said.
Oliver stopped typing.
“You cannot do that.”
“I can close my own backyard.”
“The scholarship funding will disappear.”
“Then we’ll find another way.”
Oliver’s smile finally vanished.
“You don’t understand the pressure I’m under.”
“Explain it.”
Oliver closed his laptop again.
“Our investors are coming tomorrow.”
“You said sponsors.”
“They are both.”
“Investors in what?”
Oliver looked toward the orange robot chassis on the workbench.
“In the future of underwater inspection.”
Carol whispered, “The children’s designs.

”
Oliver ignored her.
“Ethan, we can all benefit if you stop making this emotional.”
“I want the students here with their parents in one hour,” Ethan replied.
“We’ll discuss what belongs to whom before anyone touches another machine.”
Oliver picked up his laptop.
“That is a mistake.”
He walked toward the house.
Carol watched him leave.
“He’s going to take the machines,” she said.
Ethan looked at the locked equipment crates.
“Not before we count them.”

CHAPTER FIVE — THE AGREEMENT

Ethan called the school robotics coach, Ms. Rios, and explained that the Saturday demonstration was on hold.
She arrived forty minutes later with a notebook,

a measuring tape, and a face like a thunderstorm.
“Where is Oliver?” she demanded.
“Upstairs,” Ethan said.
“Good. We can talk before he starts answering for everyone.”
Nell arrived with her mother and three other students.
Priya carried a folder of sketches.
Mateo held a controller with one missing joystick.
A younger boy named Sam brought a shoebox containing the remains of a small blue robot.
They gathered around the workbench while Carol stayed near the door.
Nell would not look at her grandmother.
“Before anyone talks about ownership,” Ms. Rios said, “I need to know what actually happened Thursday night.

”
Nell exhaled.
“I borrowed a test battery from the workshop.”
“Without permission?” Ethan asked.
“Yes.”
“That was wrong.”
“I know.”
“Keep going.”
Nell explained that she had wanted to test a modified steering system before the official trials.
Carol had driven her to Ethan’s house and waited on the patio.
Nell used the open side gate to enter.
She put the orange prototype into the shallow end and operated it with a borrowed controller.
For the first few minutes, the machine moved normally.
Then the controller stopped responding.
“It turned toward the deep end,” Nell said.
“I pushed reverse, but it just kept going.

”
“Did the battery fail?” Mateo asked.
“The power light stayed on.”
“Was it in autonomous mode?” Priya asked.
“I didn’t switch it.”
“Maybe someone else did,” Ms. Rios said.
Nell nodded.
“When it hit the drain grate, the guard broke.”
“What did Oliver do?” Ethan asked.
“He came out of the house and took the controller.”
“Was he angry?”
“He asked what I’d seen.”
“What did you say?”
“I said the robot steered itself.”
“And then?”
“He told me I had accessed a private demonstration.”
Nell stared at her shoes.
“He said if I told anyone, Blue Current might notify my school that I had interfered with expensive equipment.

”
Her mother stood up so abruptly that the stool scraped the floor.
“He threatened a child?”
“He didn’t say it like a threat,” Nell replied.
“He said he wanted to protect my future.”
Ms. Rios closed her notebook.
“That is still a threat.”
Priya unfolded a sketch.
It showed a three-pronged propeller guard with a handwritten date from the previous spring.
“I designed this for the first regional contest,” she said.
“It’s not exactly the one under the grate.”
“What’s different?” Ethan asked.
“His version has an extra mounting notch.”
She pointed to a small drawing.
“The original was mine and Mateo’s.

”
Mateo opened his controller case and displayed an early prototype guard.
His was blue, not orange, and made from a different plastic.
The same unusual three-pronged shape was unmistakable.
“We made that shape to keep the motor clear of floating lane rope,” Mateo explained.
“It worked better than a round cage.”
Ms. Rios turned a page in her notebook.
“Do you have dated design files?”
“Yes,” Priya said.
“But this isn’t just about files.”
“What do you mean?”
“Oliver asked every team to submit their best modifications in advance.”
Sam opened his shoebox.
Inside were three damaged parts and a hand-drawn control circuit.


“He said the best designs would go into a surprise challenge,” Sam said.
“We thought he was helping us.”
Ethan studied the pieces.
He had been proud to watch those children work together.
Now he wondered whether he had invited someone to take advantage of their trust.
“What if his machine really is better?” Ethan asked.
Priya looked offended.
“Then he should enter a contest for adults.”
For the first time that afternoon, Carol smiled.
Nell finally looked at her grandmother.
“Why did you put garbage in the pool?”
Carol hesitated.
“Because I thought I could force Ethan to stop the demonstration.

”
“You could have told him.”
“I tried and failed.”
Nell shook her head.
“You made everyone think I was involved in wrecking his pool.”
Carol’s smile disappeared.
“I’m sorry.”
Before she could add anything, Ethan’s garage camera notified him that a crate was moving.
The feed showed Oliver carrying a black equipment case toward the driveway.
“He’s leaving,” Ethan said.
Ms. Rios grabbed her keys.
“Then we had better meet him outside.”

CHAPTER SIX — THE CASE IN THE DRIVEWAY

Oliver had almost reached his rented car when Ethan stepped through the side gate.
Ms. Rios followed him, and the students came out behind her.
The black equipment case rested on the pavement beside the open trunk.
Oliver looked at the group and sighed.
“This is becoming unnecessarily dramatic.”
“What is in that case?” Ms. Rios asked.
“Company property.”
“Is any of it student property?”
“The distinction is complicated.”
“Open it and make the distinction simple,” Ethan said.
Oliver shut the trunk without putting the case inside.
“I am not obligated to let strangers search my possessions.”
“You’re right,” Ethan replied.
“But you’re also not authorized to remove equipment belonging to the children.”
“I have receipts.”
“So do they.”
Oliver studied the adults, searching for an ally.
His eyes settled on Nell.
“I hoped we could keep our earlier conversation private,” he said.
Nell glanced at her mother.
“You shouldn’t have asked me to keep it private.”
Oliver’s face tightened.
“You entered this property without permission.”
“I did,” Nell answered.
“I was wrong to do that.”
She took a breath.
“But I didn’t steal your design.”
For a moment, Oliver seemed surprised that she had admitted her mistake without surrendering the argument.
He changed direction.
“This could all be settled with a demonstration tomorrow.”
“A demonstration of whose machine?” Priya demanded.
“Blue Current’s autonomous platform.”
“The one with our propeller guard?”
“Engineers often arrive at similar solutions.”
“Then why did you request our design files?”
Oliver’s jaw shifted.
“To evaluate your progress.”
Ms. Rios stepped between the teenagers and the car.
“Nobody needs to prove ownership in this driveway,” she said.
“What we need is an inventory and a clear agreement that no student equipment leaves without permission.”
Oliver pulled out his phone.
“I’ll call our attorney.”
“You may,” Ms. Rios replied.
“I am calling the parents who are expecting you to judge their children tomorrow.”
The word parents changed Oliver’s expression more than attorney had changed hers.
He picked up the case.
“It’s just battery management hardware,” he said.
“Then you should have no reason to hide the label,” Ethan replied.
The case had a paper shipping tag tucked behind its handle.
Ethan saw a familiar school name printed on it.
It was the name of Priya’s school.
Priya stepped forward and pointed.
“That case came to our workshop in February.”
Oliver covered the tag with his hand.
“It was donated.”
“The box was donated,” Priya said.
“The equipment inside was ours.”
“You don’t know what’s inside.”
“Then show us.”
Oliver hesitated before setting the case down.
He opened the latches slowly.
Inside lay a computer module, two orange housings, and a pile of neatly coiled cables.
None of the pieces were obviously stolen.
But the computer module had a crooked strip of silver tape along one edge.
Mateo leaned forward.
“I did that,” he said.
Oliver laughed once.
“Many people use silver tape.”
“I put it there because the mounting hole was stripped,” Mateo said.
“Under it, you’ll find a piece of pencil lead I used to mark the center.”
Ethan looked at Oliver.
“May he check?”
Oliver did not answer.
Mateo peeled back a corner of the tape.
The gray mark was there.
He stopped without removing anything further.
The discovery was small and unimpressive to anyone who had not spent months helping children build machines.
To Ethan, it was unmistakable.
A boy recognized a repair he had made with his own hands.
“Why is that in your case?” Ms. Rios asked.
Oliver closed his eyes for a second.
“It was incorporated into our prototype.”
“With permission?”
“The participation agreement allows use of submitted materials.”
“The participation agreement allows evaluation,” Ms. Rios replied.
“It doesn’t allow you to dismantle a child’s machine and claim the parts as yours.”
Oliver’s phone rang.
He glanced at the caller name and walked several paces away.
“I need to take this.”
Ethan heard only fragments.
“They’re causing delays,” Oliver said.
“No, the venue isn’t ready.”
A sharp voice came through the phone speaker, and Oliver turned the volume down.
The call ended after less than a minute.
He returned looking more exhausted than angry.
“My investors arrive at five,” he said.
“They have traveled from out of state.”
“They can meet the students,” Ethan replied.
“They are expecting a product demonstration.”
“Then tell them exactly what product they’re coming to see.”
Oliver stared at him.
“You really don’t understand what happens when funding disappears.”
“I understand what happens when you promise scholarships using someone else’s work,” Ethan said.
He surprised himself with the force of the answer.
Oliver locked the case again.
“I’ll leave the equipment here until we sort this out.”
He dragged it back into the garage, then disappeared into the house.
The teenagers remained silent for a moment.
Sam asked the question that mattered to them.
“Does this mean there’s no contest tomorrow?”
Ethan looked at the brown water beyond the fence.
“There won’t be a contest in that pool tomorrow,” he said.
“But there may still be something worth showing.”