Nick and Tesla and the High-Voltage Danger Lab: A Mystery with Gadgets You Can Build Yourself ourself - Hardcover

Buch 1 von 6: Nick and Tesla

Pflugfelder, Bob; Hockensmith, Steve

 
9781594746482: Nick and Tesla and the High-Voltage Danger Lab: A Mystery with Gadgets You Can Build Yourself ourself
Hardcover
ISBN 10: 1594746486 ISBN 13: 9781594746482
Verlag: Quirk Books, 2013

Inhaltsangabe

Nick and Tesla are bright 11-year-old siblings with a knack for science, electronics, and getting into trouble. When their parents mysteriously vanish, they’re sent to live with their Uncle Newt, a brilliant inventor who engineers top-secret gadgets for a classified government agency. It’s not long before Nick and Tesla are embarking on adventures of their own—engineering all kinds of outrageous MacGyverish contraptions to save their skin: 9-volt burglar alarms, electromagnets, mobile tracking devices, and more. Readers are invited to join in the fun as each story contains instructions and blueprints for five different projects.

In Nick and Tesla’s High-Voltage Danger Lab, we meet the characters and learn how to make everything from rocket launchers to soda-powered vehicles. Learning about science has never been so dangerous—or so much fun!

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

“Science Bob” Pflugfelder is a science teacher, author, maker, and presenter that knows how to share the world of science like never before. He is a regular guest on Jimmy Kimmel Live!, Live With Kelly and Ryan, The Dr. Oz Show, and Nickelodeon’s Nicky, Ricky, Dicky and Dawn. His television appearances also include The Today Show, Hack My Life, Good Morning America, Home & Family and others.

Steve Hockensmith is both a New York Times bestselling author (for Pride and Prejudice and Zombies: Dawn of the Dreadfuls) and a Best First Novel Edgar Award nominee (for his mystery Holmes on the Range). He has two young children and lives near San Francisco.

Scott Garrett is a UK-based freelance illustrator whose clients have included Vodafone, Nestle, VW, GQ, The Guardian, Los Angeles Times, Boston Globe, Business Week, Klutz Books, Faber & Faber and Random House. He lives by the sea in Hastings, East Sussex, with his family.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

Chapter 1
Someone climbed into Joe Devlin’s cab, and he put down his newspaper and looked in the rearview mirror and started to say “Where to?”
     He froze.
     Sitting behind him were a boy and a girl with sad, serious expressions on their faces. They looked like they were eleven or twelve years old.
     There were no adults in sight.
     Two kids getting into a taxi, alone, outside San Francisco International Airport?
     Trouble, Joe’s gut said.
     The boy looked down at a letter he was holding.
     “Five-thirteen Chesterfield Avenue,” he said.
     Joe could hear the paper rustling as he spoke. The boy’s hands were shaking.
     “In Half Moon Bay,” the girl said, her voice firm, resolute. “That’s near here, right?”
     Joe turned around to squint at his would-be passengers. They were dressed like any other kids—T-shirts, jeans, sneakers—yet they seemed subdued and grave in a way that didn’t fit their ages. All they had with them were the letter and two small, black
suitcases and a book each.
      The boy was holding something called A Brief History of Time. The girl had Theory of Applied Robotics: Kinematics, Dynamics, and Control.
     “You’re not running away, are you?” Joe said. “Where are your parents?”
     “No, we’re not runaways,” the girl said. “Our parents are . . . well . . .”
     “They’re in Uzbekistan,” said the boy.
     Joe blinked.
     “Uzbekistan?” he said.
      The boy nodded. “Watching soybeans grow.”
     “Well,” the girl said, “it’s a little more complicated than that.”
     “Oh,” said Joe. “Oooooookay.”
     “We’ve been sent to live with our uncle for the summer,” the boy said. “He was supposed to meet us here, but he didn’t show up.”
      Joe stared at the kids a moment, trying to decide if he believed them. Even if he did, they still looked like trouble. And Joe didn’t like trouble.
     The girl stuffed a hand into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out a wad of wrinkled bills.
     “We have ninety-three dollars,” she said.
     The boy reached into his pocket, too. “And fifty-eight cents. That’s enough, right?”
     “Absolutely,” Joe said.
     He turned around and started the engine. And the meter.
     Joe didn’t like trouble. But he did like money.
 
Every so often, Joe stole a peek at the kids in the rearview mirror. The girl was watching the rolling Northern California hills slide by. The boy was toying with a silver pendant he wore on a chain around his neck. It was shaped like a star.
     “Stop that,” the girl said when she noticed what her brother was doing. “You might break it.”
     “Break what? I still haven’t even figured out what it is.”
     “It’s jewelry, that’s all. A keepsake from Mom and Dad.”
     “Since when have Mom and Dad been into keepsakes?”
     The girl shrugged.
     The boy started picking at the pendant again.
      “Anyway,” he muttered, “I don’t wear jewelry.”
     The girl went back to staring out the window.
     After a moment, though, she pulled out an identical pendant hanging around her neck and began rubbing it absentmindedly.
      About twenty yards behind her, Joe noticed, was a big, black SUV that had been following them for miles. It was probably just a coincidence that it had stayed with them as they went from the airport to 101 South to 92 West. But then again, if Trouble had
to drive, wouldn’t it drive a big, black SUV?
     Joe gave his cab a little more gas.
 
Joe made the winding drive down to Half Moon Bay at least once a week. Though it was just a speck of a city, it was perfectly situated—nestled on the coast at the edge of a long stretch of lush, hilly forest—and had built up a healthy tourist trade. The town itself
was quiet and quaint and cute. And boring, but the tourists didn’t seem to mind.
     Five-thirteen Chesterfield Avenue was in a nice neighborhood not far from the ocean. The house looked a little shabby, though. The paint was more faded, the driveway more cracked, the yard more choked with weeds than any of its neighbors. Even the mailbox was dented and scorched on one side.
     As Joe’s cab slowed to a stop out front, a lawn mower was going around and around in the yard. No one was going around and around behind it, though.
It looked like a ghost was mowing the lawn.
     Rope ran from the mower to a metal pole in the middle of the yard. The end of the rope was wrapped around the top of the pole in a coil. As the mower moved, the rope unraveled itself, slowly feeding more slack to the mower so it could go in bigger and bigger circles.
     It was a self-mowing lawn.
     “Cool,” said the girl.
     “Uhh,” said the boy.
     He pointed to the pole. The more the mower tugged on it, the more it tilted to the side.
     “Oh,” said the girl.
     The pole sagged, then fell over completely, and the mower rumbled off-course into a neighboring yard. It chewed through row after row of beautifully manicured flowers before rolling over a garden gnome, getting snagged, and—with a screech and a pop and a puff of black smoke—bursting into flames.
     “Well,” the girl said, “cool idea.”
     “Sixty-five dollars,” Joe said.
      The girl counted out the money.
     “And we’re supposed to tip you, right?” the boy said.
     “Don’t worry about it,” said Joe. His conscience was yelling at him not to abandon a couple of kids outside a run-down house with an exploding lawn mower. He needed to leave quick or he might actually listen.
      He glanced at the kids in his rearview mirror as he sped away. They were kneeling beside the fallen pole examining the rope. They looked like they wanted to put the pole back up, find another mower, and try again.
      A little farther down the street, Joe could see the black SUV he’d noticed behind them on the highway. A shadowy figure sat behind the wheel. Whoever it was, he or she seemed to be watching the kids.
      Joe’s gut had been right about those two. They were trouble. Weird trouble.
...

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Verlag
Quirk Books
Erscheinungsdatum
2013
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
1594746486
ISBN 13 
9781594746482
Einband
Gebundene Ausgabe
Zeichner
Garrett Scott
Anzahl der Seiten
237
Kontakt zum Hersteller
Nicht verfügbar
Verantwortliche Person
Nicht verfügbar

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