32 THE OLD BARN

CHAPTER 32 THE OLD BARN Long ago, Hilltop Farm was a very different place. The original farmers grew vegetable gardens and fruit orchards, and they raised chickens and sheep and goats. The farm had changed a lot since then, but there were still signs of its past. Low stone walls lined some of the fields. A rusty tractor sat in the weeds. And hidden within a densely wooded grove was the old barn. The barn hadn't been used in generations. Over the years, trees had quietly grown up around it and moss had spread across its roof. But the barn was still strong and solid, and Roz wanted to take a look inside. The big barn door screeched along its rails. "Hello?" said the robot, peering into the darkness. "Is anyone here?"

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A mouse squeaked and scurried out of sight, and then Roz had the barn to herself. She stepped through the doorway and switched on her headlights. The vast interior was crisscrossed with thick wooden beams. Stairways and ramps led up to lofts and platforms. Lanterns hung from hooks on the walls. Old- fashioned farm equipment lay here and there. The barn still had the faint smell of farm animals, even though none had lived there in ages. A large trunk sat on a worktable, covered in dust. Roz carefully opened the lid and examined its contents: a collection of farming magazines, a pair of leather gloves, a pencil nub. And then she noticed a small journal. The name Cyrus Shareef was elegantly scrawled across its cover. The pages were filled with his handwritten notes and hand-drawn diagrams about raising livestock and growing crops and building barns, about working the land with the help of strong animals and simple machines. Cyrus Shareef had also jotted down his thoughts about the long history of farming. He believed that the modern world owed its entire existence to ancient farms, when early humans first started growing their food. Those farms were small and primitive, but they

supported villages, which became towns, which became cities. The writings were so wise and insightful that Roz read the journal from cover to cover. By the end, she almost felt as if she knew Cyrus Shareef, whoever he was. The journal was a treasure. And she tucked it into a pocket of her tool belt for safekeeping.