Changers' Summer

By Mike Lewis

One hundred years ago a group of mysterious scientists took charge of the Earth's weather in order to control climate change. Their experiments damaged the planet and in the ensuing chaos they disappeared.

Tom is a twelve year old boy living on a farming commune in a world of constant cloud and acid rain. When one of the "Changers" appears in the grain barn out of thin air, Tom is forced into an adventure where he must choose between his family and friends, and helping the Changers repair the damage they have done.

The Changers are back, but can they be trusted this time?

Changers’ Summer is a 60,000 word Young Adult/Children's science fiction time travel novel about climate change, genetics and the consequences of science.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mike Lewis
• Release date: Jun 3, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458167361

Mike Lewis

Mike Lewis worked at Bain Capital before chasing his dream of playing professional squash. He is the founder and CEO of When to Jump, a global community of people who have left one path to pursue a very different one. When to Jump has reached millions through media impressions, in-person events, and brand collaborations. When to Jump, a collection of case studies with clear guidance on how and when to jump, is Mike's first book. He received his BA from Dartmouth College and lives in San Francisco.

Book preview

Chapter One

It was raining the day it started. The thin, green, sticky rain that stuck your hair to your head in tangled strands. The kind of rain that dripped in long strings from the bottom of your coat.

Tom sat at the kitchen window looking out across the farmyard, his feet tucked under him. He half watched the rain and half watched his mother baking. Although Tom didn’t like the green rain -- he hated the way it marked your shoes and stained your clothes –- it was a welcome sight after the days of yellow rain.

You couldn’t go out in the yellow rain. It attacked your clothes, ate holes in the soles of your shoes and generally messed you up. Yellow rain meant days stuck in doors.

What’re you looking at? Tom’s mother asked from behind him. He could see her reflection in the window, her features wavering in the light from the oil lamp.

Nothing much, he said, staring through her reflection and out into the green, wet world beyond.

You should go out while you can, his mother said. It’ll be school again soon and then you’ll be stuck in doors even on green rain days. Tom turned to face her and watched her hands kneading the large, soft ball of dough.

I’ll go out, he said, pushing up his glasses. He knew that his mother would soon find a chore for him to do if he didn’t leave now. Perhaps he could find Jordan?

Good. His mother turned back to her cooking, humming an old song quietly to herself.

Tom put on his big old black boots and the thick raincoat, which had been new that year. He pushed open the heavy back door and stepped into the porch. The patter of the rain was louder now and Tom could smell the wet stickiness of the ground.

Bess, their old collie dog, was lying across the doorstep and Tom had to step across her to reach the yard. She looked up with sad old eyes and muttered something in a deep growl before flopping back onto her paws. She didn’t speak much nowadays. Her voice-box was wearing out and Tom’s father hadn’t been able to get the parts to replace it. Tom nodded at her and stroked her head for a moment, tracing the grey hairs now showing through the black. Just going for a walk, Bess, he said. Bess had taught him his first few words and they used to have long conversations when he had been much younger.

He walked across the yard, the hood of his coat pulled firmly over his head. The rain still managed to seep in though, and he could feel the sticky trails it left on his face. He sheltered from the rain for a moment, by the doors of the first barn, and tried to wipe clinging droplets from his glasses. He could smell the warm, dank air that seeped through the doorway and he took a deep breath, savouring the metallic tang at the back of his throat. He wanted to go inside and look at the animals and play with their young but he could hear his father’s voice through the door. Tom had been told often enough that he should keep away from the animals -- he didn’t have a special suit like the workers wore in there.

He picked his way through the puddles, the sticky, green mud glooping around his boots, and went between the barns to the back of the farm. He glanced at the abandoned wrecks of machinery. Normally, they excited him but today he didn’t feel like pretending to drive a tractor or climbing on the back of the great bailer. The machines looked sad, their metal rusted and pitted by the yellow rain as they slowly subsided into twisted heaps.

Tom reached the end barn and stopped when he saw a scruffy figure walking round the corner. The boy looked up and shouted Tom’s name in greeting. It was Jordan; Tom recognised the patched coat with its multi-coloured squares of welded plastic. He waved in answer and walked over to the other boy.

Jordan was standing washing his boots in a puddle. The two of them stood for a moment and watched the oily water cascade in rainbow patterns across the brown leather.

What you doing? Tom asked.

Nothing much. Been a boring week.

Yeah, Tom agreed, there had been little to do with no school to go to. It nearly made you want to be back in the school with Mrs Finch.

Let’s look for rats, Jordan said. He pointed to the end barn. We haven’t tried there for a while.

Tom nodded. The grain barn was one of the best places to catch rats and they could get a penny a head from the farm.

The barn door was heavy and it took their combined weight to shift the lever back. Jordan was a head taller than Tom so he was able to reach the bolt and undo it. Tom always had to jump up and swing on the bolt before it would open. They slipped through the doorway and then closed the door behind them.

Tom stood for a moment, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the bright light of the barn. He waved his arms around, luxuriating in the warmth and light of the huge, open space. He let the warm air, pushed by the fans at the far end of the barn, play over his face.

Jordan was already walking away, between the tall rows of swaying corn that stretched to the other end of the barn. Tom ran after him, not wanting to be alone in this space which somehow seemed to be larger than the world outside. As he reached Jordan, the two of them stopped and then bent down. They walked slowly along the row, searching the crop tubs for signs of the rats. There were the odd tell-tale signs here and there; a broken plant stem or a track marked in the dust. Tom pointed excitedly to the end of one tub.

See there! he said to Jordan and pulled his discovery from the soil. He held it up for Jordan to see. It was a crude ladder made from stalks of grass and plaited crosspieces. The rats were becoming more adept at making tools, it seemed. Tom studied the ladder, entranced by the plaiting and the intricate way it had been built.

Give me a look, Jordan said. He snatched it from Tom’s hands.

Hey! Tom tried to snatch it back and the ladder tore across the middle, leaving them holding two halves.

I wanted to keep that, Tom said.

Why? said Jordan. It’s only a stupid rat ladder. He dropped his half of the ladder on the floor. He turned away and moved to the back of the barn, his shadow stretching out in front of him as he passed under the overhead arc lights. Let’s find some proper rats, he said over his shoulder.

Tom picked up the pieces of the ladder and put them in his pocket. He might be able to repair it and add it to the other things he had collected from here -- the crude knives and bags he had found.

Tom followed him again, scuffing the ground with his feet. He was so intent on the cloud of dust his feet raised that he nearly ran into Jordan who stood in the middle of the row.

Watch it, Tom said.

What’s that? Jordan asked, pointing to something ahead of him.

Tom stepped past him and looked. At first Tom thought that Jordan was holding something, then he realised that he was actually pointing at something in front of him in mid-air.

Tom walked round to the other side of the object, which seemed to hover three feet off the ground. Jordan reached out to touch it.

Oh, he said and stepped back. That’s strange!

What?

I can’t touch it, Jordan said.

Tom reached for the object from the other side and saw what Jordan meant. As your hand reached out, it stopped short as though there was a wall in the way, and your hand tingled.

What is it? Jordan asked, kneeling down so he could see under the object.

Tom shrugged. I dunno, but it looks like a finger. Tom looked closer and realised that it was a finger. A finger that ended where it should join the hand. A finger hanging in mid-air.

Chapter Two

There was a small group now, crowded together in the narrow space between the corn stalks. They stood and stared at the finger, not looking at each other.

Tom had run to fetch his parents and Jordan had brought his father. The two men stood together conversing in low tones as they circled the finger at a distance. They had come straight from the animal barns and still wore the long boots and overalls. Their protective masks were slung around their necks and the goggles rested on their foreheads, like a second pair of eyes.

Tom’s mother stood back from the two men, resting her hands on Tom and Jordan’s shoulders as if to hold them back. Tom could feel her squeezing his shoulder and smell the dough and flour still on her hands. He looked across at Jordan, hoping to catch his eye, but the other boy was intently watching his father.

The two men finally stopped talking and rejoined the three of them.

It’s a finger all right, said Jordan’s father slowly. Tom had to stifle a grin. Mr. Jones was always stating the obvious. He was a big ponderous man; the opposite of Tom’s father, who was thin and quick.

It is that, Alex, said Tom’s father and clapped the big man on the back with a laugh.

But what are we going to do about it? asked Tom’s mother in a tone which showed she thought it was no laughing matter.

Do? Well, nothing I guess. There is nothing we can do. We can’t touch it and it’s doing no harm.

Well, I don’t want it here, Tom’s mother said firmly. She let go of Tom’s shoulder and then walked over to the finger. It looked to Tom as if she meant to snatch it up and throw it away. The two men shuffled back and Tom’s father shrugged at Mr. Jones with a resigned expression that Tom had seen before.

At that moment the barn was plunged into darkness. Tom jumped at the sudden absence of light and felt Jordan also start beside him. There was a scream from his mother and Tom could hear his father cursing.

Then came the sound of footsteps heading away from them to the side of the barn.

It's okay Christine, Tom’s father said from somewhere nearby. It’s just night kicking in.

The lights came back on and Tom could see his father had an arm around his mother and that she seemed upset.

I knew that, she said and pulled away from his arms.

Okay, leave it if you want to, she said, looking at the finger again. But you mark my words it’s the work of the Changers.

With that she walked off and left the three of them. They stood for a moment and looked at each other and the finger until Mr. Jones came back to join them.

I’ve set it for five minutes, he said to Tom’s father, nodding in the direction of the lights.

Come on lads, it’s time we were back at work, Tom’s father said. The two men shepherded the boys out of the barn and left them standing outside in the rain.

Let’s have another look? said Jordan eagerly.

No, Tom shook his head. It’s dark in there now. We can’t see anything and anyway father will be looking out for us.

What did your mother mean by the Changers? Jordan asked. Is it like the things Mrs Finch talked about?

I don’t know, Tom said, but somehow he knew it was something significant and he intended to find out.

*****

Tom didn’t manage to get to the barn the next day. He was suddenly very busy. One moment his mother wanted him to help her in the kitchen, refilling the oil lamps. The next it was his father who needed someone to pass tools as he worked on the wind generator.

Tom didn’t mind helping his father. He liked being up on the generator platform looking across the farm and the hills beyond. It hadn’t rained yet, and light grey clouds scurried across the sky above his head. From up here you could see the other houses in the commune and the square shed that was Tom’s school. He wondered when they would get a new teacher and he’d go back to lessons again. His mother had said it might be weeks before someone else could be found.

Pass the wrench, Tom, his father said from above him, interrupting Tom’s thoughts.

Tom picked up the heavy, oily wrench and passed it to his father who was leaning over the rotating mechanism at the base of the wind tower. Tom looked up at him and the long vanes of the turbine that towered above them both.

Who are the Changers? Tom asked. It was a question that had bothered him all of the previous night. He had wanted to ask his mother as he poured oil into the lamps but she was not in one of her better moods and he thought it better just to finish the job as quickly as possible.

The Changers? His father’s voice had an odd, metallic quality to it as it echoed in the rotation chamber. Then he stood up and looked down at Tom, and wiped his hand across his forehead, leaving streaks of white through the grime.

Who were the Changers you mean, he said, There aren’t any of them left these days. Despite what your mother might think.

Okay, who were they then?

His father sat down on the edge of the rotation chamber and took a swig of water from a bottle. He passed the bottle to Tom who drank a mouthful of the cool liquid. Tom sat next to his father and repeated his question.

Okay, I’ll tell you, but you mustn’t repeat this to anyone, his father said, looking at him. You understand? Tom nodded.

Was that why Mrs Finch went away? Tom asked.

His father grimaced and shook his head. He took a swig of water.

Partly, he said. "But, about the Changers.

They were a group of people who lived a long time ago, before you were born, before I was born even. They wanted to change things, improve on things all the time.

Like what? Tom asked, trying to think of all the things he would change -- like the yellow rain, and having to fill oil lamps.

The world wasn’t always like this, his father waved a hand at the valley below them. It didn’t always rain, we used to be able to grow things outside.

Outside? Tom said in amazement. Everyone knew that nothing you could eat grew outside without a barn to protect it from the yellow rain.

Yes, outside under blue skies with no clouds, apparently. I’ve never seen it myself, but my grandfather once told me about it.

So, why do we have clouds now? Tom said, trying to imagine what a blue sky would look like.

Because of the things the Changers did. They adapted things, improved on nature. The pigoats come from Changer animals. They wanted to improve things, but they changed too many things and it all went wrong. Their changes caused the rain, and the clouds and a lot of other things to happen.

What happened to them?

"A lot of them were killed in the fighting that started after the problems. Most people blamed them. It wasn’t safe after the Change, so most of them just stopped changing things and concentrated on surviving. It was difficult in those first few years.

Then a lot of them just disappeared, or so people said. I don’t know where they went to, but people certainly didn’t miss them.

But are there still people who can change things? Tom asked, If they wanted to?

His father shook his head. No, we’ve forgotten a lot of things and thankfully one of them is how to Change things.

Oh, Tom said, slightly disappointed. Changing had sounded interesting if a little frightening.

We’d better get back, your mother will be wondering where we’ve got to. And I don’t want her worrying too much -- so don’t go asking her questions about the Changers, okay?

Tom nodded.

Besides, this business about fingers in barns has got her occupied enough as it is, his father added and starting gathering up the tools. Tom bent down to help him. If the finger wasn’t to do with Changers, Tom thought, then what was it?

Chapter Three

Tom lifted the heavy pan and poured another measure of the mixture slowly and carefully into the jar. The sweet, sticky smell of the jam filled the kitchen and Tom’s nostrils burnt from the overpowering sweetness. The liquid reached the top of the jar and he set the pan back down on the stove.

Five, his mother said, and screwed the lid down tightly. She put the full jar next to the other four on the shelf above the table. Tom flexed his hands. His forearms ached from holding the heavy pan.

Only another twelve to do, his mother said brightly. Tom groaned and turned to pick up the pan again. He had spent the whole morning trapped in the house with his mother while yellow rain fell outside. Ordinarily he wouldn’t have minded helping with the jam making. He liked the way his mother sang to herself as they worked. But he still hadn’t been back to the barn and it had been three days now since he and Jordan had seen the finger.

If you can fill these five Tom, I’ll take your father his lunch. His mother lined up five jars on the kitchen table. Tom could feel the heat radiating from them as they

Reviews for Changers' Summer

[bemislibrary · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Interesting premise on how time travel may change the environmental past, present and future. The characters acted consistently throughout, but lacked visual descriptions and emotional depth. The ending sets the foundation for the next book in the series.

[ncrainstorm · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This book started out slow for me. I hate to say that because there was an event that was so totally creative at the beginning, it held a lot of promise. However, I felt the writing of it did not hold up to that promise. I won't say what it was because I hate spoilers!The adult characters were a bit too two-dimensional for me, but as the story was meant to be focused on the children, it was fine. Tom was a great young protagonist, ready to jump in and get things done. Some things I absolutely loved in this book: Bess, the talking dog (should have used her more!); rats that build tools; colored rain; and time travel! Mike Lewis, the author, did a good job with his editing. Many authors I find tend to write books that are too long, fill them up with a lot of "stuff" that doesn't really need to be in the book. This is a good book for young adults. I think their natural curiosity and creative minds will find the story fascinating.*Disclaimer: I received this book from the author through Librarything. I was not required to write a positive review.

[roudyjsoule · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This was a very interesting novel. The post-changers world was a creative twist on the dangers of technology and nature tampering. The plot did seem to proceed slowly, though it was broken up with large bursts of action. My only problem with the story was that Tom and Alison seemed to act and speak way above their age in some parts, which was confusing at times. Overall this was a good story and I can't wait for the sequel.

[amcreech · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Living in a world altered by scientists or "changers," Tom and his family now live in a world very different from our own. When Tom and his friend discover a man appearing out of thin air, Tom's world is forever changed. The Changers have come from the past to try to help make the world what it once was. An interesting read.