Free Trapped!: The 2031 Journal of Otis Fitzmorgan by Bill Doyle Page B

prejudiced.” I was going against all my training by being hostile to a potential witness.
    “Prejudiced!” Lysa spat back at me. Traces of a the mousy girl slipped away as she grew more frazzled. “Are you honestly here
     to insult me? Let's just cut to the chase. In case you haven't noticed, my mom is knocked out and lying sick in bed. Do you
     think l'd ever do anything to endanger her life?”
    Lysa's face was red, and there were tears pooling in her eyes.
    “No,” I answered. “I guess you're right. I'm sorry.”
    “Doesn't that fact clear me of suspicion?” she asked angrily.
    “Again, I'm sorry,” I said. “I just have one question: Why are you and your mom on the Climber?”
    “Two tickets were e-mailed to us. The note said we had won first prize in a sweepstakes. My mom and I couldn't remember entering
     any sweepstakes—but we decided not to ask too many questions. The tickets were real, and who wouldn't want a free ride on
     the Space Elevator?”
    I opened my mouth, but she interrupted me. “Before you ask who sent them, I don't know. The e-mail is gone. It's been erased.
     Satisfied?”
    Without waiting for me to respond, she said, “I'd like you to leave now.”
    I nodded and left the room. Judge was waiting for me outside the door.
    “That didn't go so well,” I told her.
    “I Know,” she said. “I could hear it all. Now what?”
    “Let's try Charlotte.”
    If it's possible, that interview went even worse. In fact, there really wasn't an interview.
    When we 1:knocked on Charlotte's door, we heard her muffled, voice say, “Go away!”
    “Charlotte, I just want to ask you one or two questions,” I called. “Did someone send you tickets for the Elevator?”
    “They came in an e-mail. They were prizes in a sweepstakes.” “What sweepstakes?”
    “I don't know,” she answered. “I figured my dad had entered and forgotten about doing it.”
    My brain went into hyperdrive. Clearly, the sweepstakes had been a fake. Someone …the thief …was trying to throw a potential
     investigation off-track by having so many people with the same DNA located in one place.

    JUDGE LED ME AWAY FROM CHARLOTTE'S ROOM.
    Before I could shout another question through the door, Charlotte bellowed, “NOW GO …AWAY!”
    “Come on,” Judge said, gently pulling me back toward the elevater.
    “Well we're getting nowhere,” I said. “There's no one else to ask.”
    “I thin there might be, Otis.”
    “Who?”
    “Asyla Notabe.”
    Once again, Judge and I were in the Common Room. Crockett was seated at the table, watching us pace back and forth. We had
     just filled him in on our progress.
    “I think it's a great idea to bring Asyla to lift the way you brought me back,” Judge said. “Then we can ask her questions
     about her clones and find out if she knows anything about what they might be up to.”
    “It won't be the real Asyla,” I replied. “It will only be the woman as my family's written about her in their journals. And
     the journals say much more about you than about her.”
    “If you added other information in your hard drive—like news stories or encyclopedias—she should still be well rounded.” Judge
     stopped pacing and looked at me. “What's the real reason you're hesitating?”
    I took a breath. “I'm concerned about what will happen to you.”
    “It's true.” Judge acknowledged. “We will have to use some of the nanobots I'm made of.”
    Crockett chimed in, “If we do that, you'll have to be younger and smaller.”
    “What do you mean?” I asked.
    “Think about the nanobots that make up Judge like the sand in a sand castle,” Crocket explained. “If you want to make a second
     castle using the same sand, the first one will have to get smaller.”
    “So I'll have to be younger and less experienced,”Judge said. “But it still might work.”
    I stopped pacing. “Are you sure you want to do this, Judge?”
    Judge stood still. “Honestly, it's scares me a little. But