Free Dinosaur Boy Saves Mars by Cory Putman Oakes Page B

it is to not have to worry about preparing food. I don’t know how we ever got along without these things! They’ve quite revolutionized Martian culture.”
    Despite Chancellor Fontana’s enthusiasm, Elliot was looking doubtfully at the brown rectangle in his hand.
    â€œIt kind of reminds me of something,” he said, turning it around in his hands. “I’m trying to think of what…”
    â€œIf you don’t like the texture, then I have just the thing,” Chancellor Fontana said, reaching into her purse again and handing Elliot a small bottle.
    â€œNutri Juice,” Elliot read.
    â€œThe next generation of condensed nutrition. Same thing as the nuggets, but in liquid form!” Chancellor Fontana explained, taking a quick glance around us. “Don’t let on that I gave you that. They’re not on the market yet. The plan is to reveal them for the first time during the toast after the Friendship and Goodwill Game.”
    â€œThe toast?” I asked.
    â€œThere’s a toast at the end of every Intergalactic Soccer Federation game,” Venetio told us. “The winners pour the losers a drink, and the losers have to toast the winners while they take a sip. It’s about sportsmanship and stuff. The drink is supposed to be something special and meaningful from the winner’s home planet.”
    â€œBut,” Sylvie cut in, “since the losers have to drink it and the winners don’t, it usually ends up being the most disgusting drink the winning team can think of.”
    â€œReally?” I asked.
    Sylvie nodded solemnly.
    â€œOh yeah. After we won the ’14 Finals, we poured the Plutonians raw Bruno egg whites. Some of them actually threw up on camera.”
    â€œNutri Juice isn’t too bad,” Ms. Helen admitted. “I think the Plutonians will get off easy this time.”
    Everyone looked expectantly at Elliot.
    Elliot grinned sheepishly and handed me the Nutri Juice.
    â€œMaybe I’m not quite as hungry as I thought.”
    â€¢ • •
    We eventually made it out toward the outskirts of the city. We started walking through caverns that weren’t quite as tall with walls that weren’t quite as smooth. In some places, the walls were covered in thin wire mesh and I could see orangey-red Martian dirt peeking through.
    â€œCentral is constantly expanding,” Chancellor Fontana droned on. “Our population rises at a steady rate each year, and engineers work around the clock to create more livable areas.”
    We passed a wall that had three large, gaping holes in it. I couldn’t see too far inside any of them, but I could hear the hum of working machinery. There was also a touch of reddish dust in the air.
    Elliot sneezed loudly.
    â€œWhat’s that?” Sylvie asked, pointing at a fourth hole. It was smaller than the others, and it had strips of red tape crisscrossing its entrance.
    â€œOh, the engineers must have hit a vein of iron ore,” our guide explained. “Or possibly peridotite. Those are the densest kinds of rocks on Mars. They’re great if you’re looking to mine them, but they’re not really cost effective to dig through. We tunnel around them when we can.”
    â€œYou mean you can’t get through them?” Sylvie asked.
    â€œWe can,” Chancellor Fontana replied, sounding a bit miffed at the suggestion that they couldn’t. “But it takes longer and it costs more. Not really worth doing when so much of Mars is made up of sediments and siltstone.”
    â€œHuh,” Sylvie said thoughtfully, as our guide steered us away from the tunnels and back toward the larger caverns of downtown Central.
    â€¢ • •
    As we walked back toward Sylvie’s apartment, we passed the big screen again. A large crowd was gathered underneath it now, and a tight circle of Martian police ringed a temporary stage.
    Three people were on the stage. One was a