By Jason Bradbury
Twelve year-old Jackson Farley is a electronic genius. On a robotics scholarship at a high-tech American collage, he is having the time of his existence - yet then an explosion on the nuclear reactor on campus alterations every little thing. Jackson and his fellow players are hugely suspicious - the assault bears the hallmark of maniacal dot.com billionaire Devlin Lear and his rogue robots. And it sounds as if to join a terrifying multimillion-dollar grasp plan. yet Jackson cannot think Lear is in the back of the sinister dealings. Devlin Lear is useless. is not he?
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Extra info for Atomic Swarm (Dot Robot)
You were driving at a perfectly steady speed for the conditions. ’ she fumed, pointing at Mr Pinstripe. ‘Excuse me, little girl, but the adults are talking. ’ ‘That’s it! I’ve had enough of this guy,’ said Brooke, glowering at Mr Pinstripe. ’ Brooke walked straight up to Jackson and snatched the handset from him. She turned to the pickup as Fist, now under her control, rose from the bonnet. It was the first time Mr Pinstripe had been quiet since the accident. He just stood, gaping like a goldfish, as Brooke’s yellow mechanical creation sprang from the rusty pickup and bounded straight for his sports car, like a dog chasing a bone.
She looked down and could see the potentially explosive steel-blue liquid streaming around her running shoes. ’ Brooke shouted in horror at the ranting man next to her. ’ he replied arrogantly. Brooke just pointed at the gasoline. ’ The man went pale and hurriedly stubbed out his cigarette on a credit card from his pocket. ’ Brooke ignored him. Time was running out. Come on, Jackson! Hurry up! CHAPTER 3 Jackson pedalled hard along the Cambridge streets on his mountain bike, his flapping coat revealing momentary flashes of the strange plastic skeleton wrapped round his back.
With his twelve sharp spikes retracted, the brushed-metal robot could have been mistaken for a miniature globe – his pockmarks and rough welds representing the planet’s oceans and continents. But in fact Punk’s hidden prongs packed a real punch. The sphere in the second pen looked like a giant eyeball. Its surface was pristine gloss white and, on one side, it had a centrally mounted fish-eye lens. The third ball-shaped robot was as perfectly round as the other two, but was bright yellow and criss-crossed with black hazard-warning stripes.