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Artemis did not pat his pockets searching for his phone, because he always kept his phone in the same pocket. Indeed, he always had his tailors sew a leather-flapped zipper into his right breast pocket so that his phone could not be mislaid. For if Artemis Fowl mislaid his modified phone, it would be a little more serious than if Johnny Highschool happened to lose the latest touch-screen model, unless Johnny Highschool’s phone happened to have enough tech inside it to easily hack any government site, a nice little laser pointer that could be focused to burn through metal, and the first draft of Artemis Fowl’s memoirs, which did a little more than kiss and tell. Artemis’s fingers were cold and numb, but after a few attempts he managed to paw the zipper open and fumble out his phone. On screen the phone was playing a photo slideshow of his mother while the opening bars of “Siren Song” soared through the tiny speakers. “Phone,” he said clearly, holding in a button on the casing to activate voice control. “Yes, Artemis,” said the phone in Lily Frond’s voice, a voice that Artemis had picked simply to annoy Holly. “Accept the call.” “Of course, Artemis.” A moment later the connection was made. The signal was weak, but that did not matter as Artemis’s phone had speech auto-fill software that was ninety-five percent accurate. “Hello, Mother. How are you?” … “So you are in Iceland?” Artemis was glad there was no video feed, as it was more difficult to lie face-to-face. “Of course I am. Why do you ask?” “I ask because the GPS puts you in the North Atlantic Ocean.” Artemis frowned. His mother had insisted on a GPS function on the phone if she were to allow him to go off alone. “That’s probably just a bug in the program,” said Artemis as he quickly tapped into the GPS application and manually set his location to Reykjavík. “Sometimes the locater is a little off. Give it another try.” Silence for moment, but for the tapping of keys, then another hmmm. - The Atlantis Complex, Chapter 8
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