Free The 8th Continent by Matt London

work.”
    â€œYuck! You went to Winterpole? Do you realize how many of my incredible condo construction projects they have vetoed with their stupid bylaws? Those bureaucrats are useless.”
    Diana’s mom always said that Winterpole kept the world clean and organized, but it was not worth arguing with Vesuvia. It would just send her off on another tangent, after Diana had finally gotten her attention. “Earlier today, Rick and Evie Lane snuck into Winterpole Headquarters.”
    â€œYou mean I haven’t gotten those nerds to flee the country yet? Yuckfest.”
    â€œThey tried to erase all the terrible crimes their father has committed from Winterpole records. And then I found this on the security cameras.”
    Diana pulled out her phone and played the video she’d downloaded from Winterpole’s security camera archive. It showed a grainy image of Rick and Evie racing down a hallway in Winterpole Headquarters. The audio was scratchy, but they clearly heard Rick say, “And that’s why I want to terraform the Great Pacific Garbage Patch and make the eighth continent, just like you.”
    â€œTerra-what the who now?” Vesuvia asked.
    â€œThat’s what I said!” Diana replied. “So I did some research. Apparently, there’s this giant island of trash in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.”
    â€œYeah, so?” Vesuvia shrugged.
    Diana continued, “I think Rick and Evie are trying to turn that garbage into a new landmass, a whole continent, like Australia, but without the kangaroos.”
    â€œSounds like a waste of perfectly good plastic,” Vesuvia said.
    â€œDon’t you get it? If they build a continent, they’ll own it. No one will be able to tell them what to do.”
    Vesuvia growled, “Ooh, I want to decapitate teddy bears when people tell me what to do.”
    â€œExactly! And with all that extra land, you could finally build New Miami—and you could do it without having to kick people out of their homes or needing to tear up existing environments or being forced to—” Diana stopped herself. She saw that Vesuvia’s eyes had glazed over. “You could even build a
triple
-decker ocean.”
    Vesuvia bubbled with excitement. “I could create the most prettiest, perfect plastic place on the planet, and I would be that place’s princess. Diana, alert the Piffle Pink Patrol and tell Daddy I won’t be coming to dinner. I want that continent!”

THE WINTERPOLE SANITATION TRUCK PULLED INTO A MASSIVE GARBAGE DUMP OUTSIDE GENEVA. It had a full load of office waste, broken computer punchcards, and cafeteria leftovers, so even the security guard at the front of the dump, who must have been accustomed to mysterious odors, held his nose and waved it inside.
    Upon reaching the designated dump point, the truck backed up, tilted the container, and let the refuse fall.
    The old diesel truck shifted gears, coughed smoke, and sputtered away.
    A moment passed.
    Evie burst out of the pile of steaming garbage, gasping for breath. “Bleeeeeyagh! My nose will never forgive me.”
    Beside her, Rick’s head emerged like a gopher from a hole. He gagged, wiping brown ketchup from his eyes. “
I
will never forgive you. That was your worst idea since . . . well, not that long ago, actually.” He removed the banana peel he had been wearing as a hat.
    Evie ran her fingers through her hair, straining out eggshells and yolk. As usual, Rick failed to appreciate her brilliance. They were lucky she had spotted the garbage chute while they were on Mister Punchcard’s Wild Ride—it was the only way they could sneak out of Winterpole Headquarters without getting caught. “I got us out of there, didn’t I?” she said.
    Rick extracted himself from the pile, looking quite green. “We could have just walked out like normal people if you hadn’t felt the urge to hack us into that