Part 9 (1/2)
I don't know about an energy s.h.i.+ft, but I could see right away what Bonnie meant by an inner city. It was like this separate miniature metropolis within Paris. Paved paths went off in every direction, and each one was lined with memorials and mausoleums. Some of them were simple stones, some were elaborate sculptures, and others looked like little houses. There was a strange hush over the place. Even Bud and Chaz were walking quietly ahead of us, though periodically one of them would suddenly lunge back and pantomime hurling a touch-down pa.s.s to a phantom quarterback.
”Where's the Famous People Section?” asked Janet.
”Well,” I replied patiently, ”I don't think there's any one section for them, Janet. I think they're probably scattered individually throughout the grounds.”
Janet looked appalled.
”But there must be thousands of graves here,” she said. ”Where do they give out maps? How are we going to find Edith Piaf?”
”And Jim Morrison,” added Bonnie, holding her hands palms downward over a small grave marker.
Tim shot us a look. ”Wait. Jim Morrison? As in The Doors? Jim Morrison is buried HERE?” he cried.
I had never seen him so animated.
”Yeah, man. Definitely,” said Bonnie, looking at Tim with a new level of interest. ”Morrison died in Paris, dude. They buried him right here.”
Tim seemed momentarily paralyzed with reverence. I was both surprised and impressed. Did other people's fathers also lecture them on fossil rock G.o.ds of the past? I would have pegged Tim as more of a Green Day fan.
”Jim Morrison? That is pretty cool. Let's find him!” Lewis said, powering up his Sidekick.
Lewis knew him too?
”Oh, yeah, we have to find him, definitely,” said Tim.
”I agree, bro,” Bonnie said. She peered over Lewis's shoulder. ”Whaddyagot?”
”Give me a minute,” said Lewis, tapping the b.u.t.tons. ”The Internet has never failed me.”
”Yo, dawg, what's the delay?” shouted Chaz or Bud, I'm not sure which. (I don't think I could identify one from the other in a court of law.) ”We're trying to find Jim Morrison,” I called back.
Bud and Chaz regarded each other.
”Is he in our cla.s.s?” one of them asked.
I took a brief moment to deliver a silent prayer that neither Bud nor Chaz would ever hold a position of authority in the U.S. government.
Lewis suddenly made a sound indicating some kind of victory (or maybe a spider had crawled into his sleeve). Charlotte and Bonnie were firmly planted at Lewis's shoulder, watching his Sidekick with apparent fascination. Tim (I no longer thought of him as the Mysterious Tim) was standing off to one side, hands thrust into his jeans pockets, as usual.
”Tim,” I said, ”you have to see what Lewis can do with this thing.”
Tim, whose face had been completely transformed since the name Jim Morrison was mentioned, joined us. Bonnie squinched closer, allowing him to sidle in and see what Lewis had found.
And what Lewis had found was extraordinary. He had found a virtual reality map of the cemetery. One half of the screen showed a picture of where we had come in. When Lewis put the cursor on the photograph, it began to rotate, giving the viewer a 360-degree view of the cemetery from the precise spot where we were standing. On the other half of the screen was a map of the cemetery.
”See, that pulsing red dot shows where we are right now,” said Lewis, pointing to the map.
We, his audience, were captivated.
”Now look back at the photograph. See how they've superimposed little red arrows on the picture? They show that we can go in any direction from here. Look at this one, to the right.”
There was, in fact, a narrow cobblestone road going off to the right of where we were standing.
”Okay, now, watch the photograph,” Lewis said. He clicked on the red arrow going to the right. The photograph faded out, and a new photograph appeared. Lewis made it turn 360 degrees again. ”This is what we'll see if we go thirty feet in that direction. And look at the map now. See, the red dot has moved, so we know which direction we're moving in.”
”How's that gonna get us to Jim Morrison, bro?” asked Bonnie.
Lewis tapped a few b.u.t.tons.
”Here's an alphabetical list of notable graves,” he said. ”We'll click on Morrison.”
A cross icon on the map blinked off and on in response.
”That's the one,” Lewis said. ”Now we know how to get there.”
”That is unbelievable,” said Tim.
Everyone looked at him simultaneously; then everyone looked away. We didn't want Tim to feel self-conscious about speaking. It should look like he'd been doing it all along.
”Who created this?” Tim asked. ”Who has that kind of time, to photograph a three-hundred-sixty-degree view from every spot in this graveyard and create a map for it? Some hardcore Morrison fan?”
”I'm going to create sites like this one day,” Lewis said shyly. ”When I'm out of school.”
”Lewis, I feel certain you're going to become world-famous for doing stuff like this,” I said with admiration.
Lewis turned the vibrant crimson color again, and he shot a quick glance in Charlotte's direction, like he was checking if she'd heard.
”But what about Edith Piaf?” cried Janet. ”Can Lewis's machine find her?”
Lewis. .h.i.t a few b.u.t.tons. Another cross pulsed on the map.
”There she is,” he said. ”But Jim Morrison is closer. Maybe we should go there first?”
Janet opened her mouth to object, but Charlotte interrupted her.
”Lewis, I say you're IN CHARGE of this expedition,” she said.
”I agree,” I stated firmly.
”Sounds good to me,” Tim said.
”Let's go see the Lizard King, gentlemen,” Bonnie cried.
I'd been called almost every male denomination in the world by Bonnie, but never ”gentlemen.” Paris seemed to be having a genteel effect on her.
Lewis started walking, holding his Sidekick in front of him the way Mr. Spock carries his tricorder while exploring an unknown planet. We filed behind him, not entirely unlike Madeline and the other eleven little girls in two straight lines trailing Miss Clavel. (You see, Dear Readers, everything DOES go back to Madeline in the end.) We followed Lewis along the outer wall of the cemetery, paused when he paused, then followed him left down a little road.