Motion(Laws of Physics #1)
Penny Reid
For nerds who aren’t a Bohr.
Author’s Note
If you have read the Elements of Chemistry trilogy (Hypothesis Trilogies #1), the action of this book (Laws of Physics: MOTION) occurs one year prior to the action of Elements of Chemistry: CAPTURE
If you have read Knitting in the City series, the action of this book occurs the summer between Love Hacked and Beauty and the Mustache (and one year prior to the action of Dating-ish) If you have read the Dear Professor series, the action of this book occurs two years prior to Kissing Tolstoy If you have read none of these books, ignore this note.
1
Physics in a Personal and Social Context
"You are receiving a collect call from ACCEPT THE CHARGES, MONA! at Cretin County Jail. If you accept the charges, press one. If not, disconnect,” the robot—apparently the love child between Alexa and Baymax—announced via my cell phone, the sound an odd amalgamation of her voice and his cadence.
No. Strike that. Inaccurate.
Most of the words were announced by the robot. But the words “ACCEPT THE CHARGES, MONA!” and the voice that whisper-shouted them belonged to my twin sister, Lisa. I didn’t press one and I didn’t disconnect. But I did stare at nothing, probably making my about-to-sneeze face, and attempted to parse through what I’d just heard.
“Is everything okay?”
Dr. Payton’s perfectly reasonable question hijacked my attention and reminded me that I wasn’t alone. I was in a restaurant. The planetary astrophysicist’s eyebrows inched upward as we stared at each other, his last bite of steak left forgotten on the tip of his fork.
Fraught and feeling illogically harassed, I sputtered, “I don’t know.”
This was one of the very few times in my nineteen years that I’d said I don’t know. I didn’t like not knowing. I preferred I’ll find out, I’ll figure it out, or I’ll know soon.
If he’d asked me the same question just thirty seconds ago, I would’ve known how to answer. Prior to my cell ringing seconds ago, today had been a great day. I’d meditated as soon as I’d awoken. I’d journaled. I’d located and eaten a perfectly ripe avocado for breakfast. The best. Avocados in Chicago and Cambridge, Mass were so seldom perfectly ripe, or they were ripe for only 4.4 seconds. Whereas California had all the ripe avocados.
Traffic on the I-5 had been light while my driver transported me from the Pasadena Marriott to the Palomar Observatory. I’d spent most of my day elbows deep with my best friends: the gorgeous symmetry and chaos of relativistic equations, infrared array imaging, spectroscopy data.
Late afternoon, I’d gone to the dentist for a teeth cleaning, X-rays, and exam where I’d been told that my home regimen of flossing and brushing was exemplary. Praise from the dentist always put me in a good mood.
Presently, I was having dinner with Dr. Poe Payton, a second-year fellow in planetary astrophysics who was as intelligent as he was handsome and charming, which was considerably. Not that his handsomeness or ability to charm was relevant. As with all my prospective colleagues, nothing was relevant about Dr. Payton other than his ability to keep up.
Afterward, my plans included swimming in the hotel pool, showering, and finally an hour of scheduled fiction reading before bed. Although, now that I was living on my own, and finally free of Dr. Steward’s daily oversight, I sometimes read for an hour and a half.
"You are receiving a collect call from ACCEPT THE CHARGES, MONA! at Cretin County Jail. If you accept the charges, press one. If not, disconnect,” the Alexa-Baymax hybrid announced again, startling me a second time.
Flustered, I pressed one and brought the phone back to my ear. “Uh, hello? Hello?”
“Thank God!” My twin sounded far away, like the connection was bad or she was speaking in a tunnel.
“Lisa?” I whisper-asked, my eyes darting to Dr. Payton’s curious and concerned expression.
“First, don’t freak out. Second, I don’t have a lot of time, so don’t ask questions. Just do what I say, okay? I’ve been arrested.”
Arrested.
Oh God. Oh my God! Okay . . . OH MY GOD!
Clutching my forehead, heart racing, I dropped my gaze to the napkin on my lap. “Are you okay? I-what? Where are—”
“Listen,” she said firmly, “I need you to listen to me.”
“Should I call—”
“No! Don’t call anyone. I already have a lawyer, and—if everything goes according to plan—I should be released by next week.”
What? “What?”
My eyes darted up, snagging on Dr. Payton, who was now looking at me with some alarm.
He asked, “What can I do?” But this time he mouthed his question.
I didn’t answer, I couldn’t. Lisa was still talking in my ear, my mind accelerating to a million miles per second.
“. . . so I need you to go home and pretend to be me. Otherwise, they’ll know what happened and I’ll be so, so screwed.”
I lifted a finger, motioning for Dr. Payton to give me a minute, and turned my body toward the window on my right. “Uh, pardon?”
“Mona, focus.” My typically imperturbable sister’s voice trembled. “You have to get to Chicago—tonight if possible—and be me.”