The Chemy Called Al

By Wendy Isdell

Second Edition, E-book version. Back by popular request! Newly revised and expanded, this is the second edition of the popular sequel to the fiction title, "A Gebra Named Al" by Wendy Isdell.
Julie finds herself lost once more in the land of Science, which borders Mathematics. With the help of some scientific horses and a mysterious lion, she learns about the roots of chemistry, the history of alchemy, and the four states of matter.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Jun 5, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458397737

Book preview

The Chemy Called Al

The Chemy Called Al

by Wendy Isdell

THE CHEMY CALLED AL  by Wendy Isdell (second edition)

Third Release [09/2012]

Copyright © 2012 Wendy Isdell. All rights reserved.

ISBN 978-1-4583-9773-7

All rights reserved.  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, except for brief reviews, without written permission of the copyright holder.

Publisher’s Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Isdell, Wendy, 1975-

The chemy called Al, second edition / by Wendy Isdell

cm.

Sequel to A gebra named Al.

Summary: When her reading light goes out, Julie opens a mysterious portal to the Land of Science, where she discovers that Tungsten the rogue Periodic has been making trouble.

1.  Youths’ writings, American.  [1. Fantasy.  2. Chemistry-Fiction.  3. Youths’ writings.]  II. Title.

Cover, illustrations, and book design by W. D. Isdell

10   9   8   7   6   5   4   3   2 

W. D. Isdell

P. O. Box 185

Lanexa, VA 23089-0185

www.WendyIsdell.com

Author’s Preface

When the first edition of this book went out of print, I figured that would be the end of the tale. Little did I know how Chemy’s popularity had spread, and how soon so many strangers would begin emailing me, asking where to find copies. After some debate, followed by waffling, followed by some hot tea and a handful of chocolates, I concluded that it might be best to bring Chemy back into print. After all, I didn’t have enough copies on hand to answer all the requests, and I was also low on chocolates. Therefore, to make everyone happy I decided to have more printed. (Chemys, I mean, not chocolates. Printed chocolates taste a lot like trees.)

At any rate, you hold in your hands the result of several months of work and several years of history. Originally released in 1996, the first edition circulated for a few years before going out of print.  In this, the second edition, the text has been thoroughly revised from its original state and clarified in places.[1] However, the central meaning, characters, and plot remain the same.

I give credit here to Pamela Espeland, whose editing of the first edition brought polish to a sixteen-year-old’s prose. Over a decade later, I returned to put a fresh sheen on things and smooth off a couple rough edges.

Thanks to all of you who asked (and asked, and asked) for copies I could not provide. Here, with my compliments, I deliver. For those of you who are new readers, well, make yourself at home!

~Wendy Isdell

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[1] This is third release of the second edition, with some revisions to conform to Using The Chemy Called Al in the Classroom (available separately) and About the Author changes. 

1

A Tungsten Malfunction

The first thing Julie noticed was that her reading light went out. She looked up from her homework, blinking, and reached over to click the switch off and on again. No response.

Julie yawned, stretching, and looked blearily out over her cluttered room. A little light leaked in from behind the curtains, just enough so she could make out the outlines of the more distinctive debris.

There, high on the shelf was the small metal box with pure, elemental lithium in it. She pushed back her chemistry book and rose to collect that, tracing the shape of a running horse with her finger. On instructions from the friend who had given it, she had never tried to open the box. Apparently water made lithium burn, even just the humidity in air. Since she lived in an especially humid area, Julie had figured it best not to press her luck.

Next to that drooped the worn good luck tassel given to her by Al, the gebra. She set down the first to play with the second. It was rough in her fingers, with frizzy dark hairs sticking out.

Julie recalled her friend with a soft, lonely smile. At first sight, she’d thought Al was a zebra—until she realized the stripes on his fur were actually long, zigzagging math equations. (The fact that he could talk didn’t encourage the idea, either.)

Her smile spread in the semi-darkness, as she thought of the strange friends she’d left behind in the even stranger land of Mathematics. Little had she known, when she followed that Imaginary Number through a hole in space, that she would begin a great adventure. She hadn’t imagined there could be intelligent horses, one for every element and isotope of the Periodic Table; nor she had ever pictured math ideas like the Order of Operations being solid, physical things. She was lucky the kindly Mathematician had helped her get back home.

She yawned again, grumbling about the sun going to bed too early in the wintertime. She crossed the room, navigating past piles of papers, clean and dirty clothes, Science Fair projects, and overdue library books (causing a little twinge of guilt). She found the far wall by touch and flicked on the overhead light to aid the failing sun.

Nothing happened.

That’s odd.  She mused, maybe the power’s out.  She stepped over some more debris and peered at the electric clock on the desk. The bright red, digital numerals still glared 5:17, then changed to 5:18 while she watched. Julie scratched her head and flicked the light switch a few more times. Still nothing. She wandered out into the hall. To her great confusion, the lights didn’t work there, either.

"Now, this is really bizarre, she remarked, returning to her room. How could the clock work, but not the lights? Reaching up, she turned on the tiny black-and-white TV above her desk. The pale numbers jumped to life on the dial, but the screen did not light. She turned up the volume and heard a female weathercaster’s voice: . . . 54 degrees. A nice day in Washington. . . ."

Julie turned the volume down again, deeply troubled. How strange, she thought again. No lights, no TV picture, but the electric clock and the TV sound still work.

Finally Julie shrugged, deciding that the problem must be due to unusual power fluctuations or atmospheric conditions. She’d probably hear about it tomorrow on the news: Freak power shortage partially dims a neighborhood! By the light of the TV numerals, she rifled through desk drawers until she found a candle and a book of matches. What the sun won’t provide, and the electric company—or whatever—refuses, I will just have to get for myself! She scratched one match along the edge of the box. It took three tries, but finally a little yellow flame flared and she was able to light the candle wick. At last she set it on the desk, shoved some old papers away from it—just in case—and retrieved her chemistry book. The lights are bound to come on sooner or later, she thought, and I might as well get my homework done while I wait.

Forms of Light and the Elements, proclaimed the section heading, and Julie chuckled. She knew more about the elements than almost anyone, having met them in person! She kept reading.

Sodium vapor street lamps, which give off a characteristic yellow color, produce light by the excitation of their electrons. . . .

After a while Julie yawned yet again, gazing into the golden candle flame. Its projected ring of light fell in a quavering three-inch radius on her book, papers, and hands. Blinking, she got up abruptly and went to the window. She lifted the curtain just enough to glance outside. The streetlight on the corner sent a wash of illumination over the otherwise-darkened houses, reflecting yellow in every empty window. Are no one’s lights working? She returned to her desk, scratching her head, and turned up the volume on the TV.

. . . Live from Channel Five: Emergency Newsbreak. Two nurses and a patient at Washington Hospital were injured moments ago when the new radiology equipment there malfunctioned, emitting X-rays in all directions. There was a pause. This just in: X-ray machines around the country are having serious malfunctions. While some machines are not working at all, others are emitting un-slowed electrons—known as beta rays—into the surrounding areas. The reason for this odd occurrence is currently unknown. We turn now to Mary Thompson at Washington Hospital for a report. . . .

Julie turned the volume back down. X-ray machines weren’t working? Something tugged at the back of her mind, something about a quality X-ray machines and light bulbs had in common. . . .

Why was there suddenly a tight, hot knot in her stomach? She jerked her chemistry book forward and flipped to the index, skimming for X-ray machines.

The indicated page had a diagram showing an electron emitter and a tungsten target.

Her heart gave a loud thump, then seemed to stop. With fingers shaking—in excitement or fear, she wasn’t sure—she quickly turned back to the section on Forms of Light and the Elements. Light bulbs. Light bulbs employ a tungsten filament suspended in a partial vacuum. . . . Light bulbs, tungsten. X-ray machines, tungsten.

She jumped out of her chair and ran to the encyclopedias down the hall, turning back halfway there to retrieve the candle. As she hunted for the entry on cathode-ray tubes such as those found in televisions, she already knew that she had solved at least part of the mystery. Tungsten was a Periodic—a supernatural, equine representative of the element tungsten—who had been rebelling when she had previously been to the land of Mathematics. His servants, the wolframs, had attacked her and her companions. Now the items in her world that used tungsten weren’t working. . . . That couldn’t be good, because only Tungsten could do such a thing. She was pretty sure, anyway.

There was the page she was looking for. Cathode-ray tubes employ a tungsten filament. . . . Tungsten, again. She was right.

Julie dropped the encyclopedia and sat there in shock, chewing idly on her lower lip. This meant trouble in a big way. There was a problem with Tungsten again. And there was no way she could return to Mathematics to warn people. Her last trip had been an accident, more or less, and this time she had no Imaginary Number to follow in order to get there. Her mind worked uneasily through the possibilities. Had Tungsten’s rebellion succeeded, perhaps? Had he taken over the lands of both Science and Math? Or perhaps he was dead, or captured, and that’s why his element wasn’t working on Earth. What if her friends—Al, and the Periodics, and the Mathematician—were in danger? She brought the candle back to her room and went to her shelf.  She took down the small, important gray box.  Again she traced the running horse and the chemical symbol beside it, Li. The gift was preternaturally cool and heavy in her hands. She turned it over, inspecting the seamless corners and the smooth underside. She traced the horse-figure’s flowing mane, thinking of the silver-white one belonging to her friend, the Periodic Lithium. That, and of the soft, soft fuzz that covered his whole body. She missed her friends, and she was worried.

Al, she murmured to herself, it looks like I’ll see you again, soon. . . . Well, I hope. She set down the heavy little box and tied the braid around one belt-loop of her jeans. There had to be some way to get back to Mathematics! Maybe it would bring her luck.

She plopped down at her desk, leaving the candle on its shelf across the room. She had to think. She had been brought to Mathematics the first time through a peculiar set of circumstances: she had fallen asleep on her algebra book, and an Imaginary Number had appeared like a white, translucent cloud. Behind him had been the portal, an inky hole in the air. It had been an accident the first time, but maybe . . . maybe she could make the portal appear again. In the past she had wondered whether she could, but had never really had a reason to try. Now, knowing that something