by Paul Stein
“You’re a fool,” Jarrod spit back. “This isn’t over by a long shot. Since you know my reputation as a scrapper, I assume you know it goes hand in hand with a reputation for revenge. Just ask my cousin, Ryan Marshall…I believe you’ve heard of him?”
He paused and looked toward Aldin, who had been watching the proceedings like he was about to piss his pants.
“Mills, huh?” he continued. “That goes double for you. Whatever this guy’s paying you won’t be nearly enough when I get through with you. For one, the entire scientific community is going to know you sold out and helped these thugs steal my research. You won’t be able to get a job shoveling dog shit at an animal shelter when I get through with you,” he threatened, red-faced, still trying to recover from the blow to his stomach.
“Uncle Jarrod,” Jer’s voice called out excitedly, recognizing his presence. He struggled to break free of Starkovich, who was forcibly holding him back at the far end of the warehouse.
Jarrod was relieved to see him, feeling as though it was worth having been choked and punched to verify he was on the premises. At first glance, it didn’t look like Jer was any worse for wear.
“I’m okay, Jer,” Jarrod strained to say, still trying to catch his breath. “Do what these guys tell you. Your mom and dad are both fine.” He hoped Jer would catch his subtle message that Ryan was still at large and both his parents were trying to find him.
“Cut the bullshit, Professor,” Kilmer demanded. “Git yer arse movin’ and fire up the machine…Now!”
“I’ll need the laptop,” he said, looking at Starkovich. “But this isn’t a one- shot deal, Mr. Leader. You see, to levitate anything, you need to know certain parameters to generate the correct flow of gravitrons. I don’t expect you know what I mean, but I’m sure Mills here understands. How much core is available?” he asked, looking at Aldin.
“There’s five pounds in the generator right now, Professor,” Aldin replied, sheepishly, still frightened from the confrontation he had just witnessed.
“What’s your maximum electrical throughput?” Jarrod asked next, his mind switching to technical considerations for firing up the biggest gravitron accelerator he’d ever imagined.
“We’ve got 440 volts on a 300-amp circuit connected to the generator assembly, Professor Conrad,” Aldin replied.
“Wow…that much, huh?” Jarrod said, arching his eyebrows. That’s all I need to know. “What shall we levitate, then?” he asked, looking to Kilmer for direction.
“Ya tell me, Professor. What will five pounds of radioactive fuel lift?”
“How about we lift…that?” Jarrod said, pointing at Colt’s Humvee standing midway between the trailer and the center of the ware-house. The Humvee looked like it had just come off a battlefield. There were bullet-hole pockmarks over the entire shell of the vehicle and the front bumper was partially askew from ramming the concrete barrier at the entrance to the Livermore property. Jarrod figured this was the vehicle they used to steal the missing nuclear fuel.
“You’re kidding…right?” Colt exclaimed blown away that Jarrod was actually considering levitating the ten-ton Humvee.
“Kidding…no. Confident it’ll work…no. I’ve only done this under closely controlled lab conditions using grams of nuclear fuel in the core. This will be the biggest mass I’ve ever attempted to levitate,” he answered, careful to handicap his chances in case of failure. “But assuming you’ve assembled the device according to my specifications, the core you’ve provided should be capable of generating a flow of gravitrons enough to lift that vehicle. Since I have no empirical evidence to guarantee what the machine will do, however…personally, I’d get everyone as far back as possible.”
Jarrod intended to make the uncertainty of operating his machine grave enough that he would be left unguarded in the control console with Mills. True to his words, though, he really had no idea what to expect; stimulating the core with too much electrical force could theoretically start a nuclear chain reaction. A five-pound nuclear bomb of this size would be catastrophic to the entire Bay Area.
“Good oh, but no funny stuff, pally,” Kilmer groused. “R’member, I hold all the cards. How far back is safe?”
“Out of the state,” Jarrod said sarcastically, “but since I know you won’t fall for that, I would suggest you at least gather at the far end of the building. We lose control of the core containment, though, and this entire area will be contaminated. You won’t be far enough away if that happens.”
He turned his attention to his nephew once more. “Jeremiah, are you alright, son? We’re going to be okay…you hear me?”
“I’m fine, Uncle Jarrod. Don’t worry about me,” Jer replied confidently. “Let’s see you levitate the Humvee. That’ll be sweet,” he added, caught up in the momentous possibility of witnessing his uncle achieve history.
Jarrod grabbed his laptop from Starkovich and followed Aldin Mills to the collapsible steps mounted to the side of the trailer. Starkovich accompanied both men onto the platform of the trailer, standing guard over them as they initiated the start-up sequence of the antigravity machine. Mills entered the control console first and began powering up the various systems to actuate the machine. The console looked like it was designed for the Space Shuttle—dials, buttons, gauges, and switches covered the entire surface of the six-foot by three-foot control center. It looked to Jarrod as if Mills had followed his instructions to the letter, keeping the focal array in the direct center of the console to capture the operator’s undivided attention.
When all the systems were powered up, Mills began slowly turning an oversized orange knob, and the activator arm on the microwave dish started to move into position. It rose systematically from its prone position on the trailer to a height of about fifteen feet and then oriented toward the Humvee. Mills then used the camera located within the microwave dish to focus on the target, much like sighting a gun. The monitor at the center of the console had a crosshair superimposed upon the glass that Mills used to perfectly center the Humvee. With the target centered, he locked the actuating arm in place and a red blinking light on the console turned steadily green. The microwave dish would be beaming the gravitrons generated by the turbine directly at the center of the crosshairs.
These steps completed, Mills began the initiating sequence for powering up the gravitron generator. He input a series of coordinates and set a number of dials to account for the five-pound nuclear core with an electrical throughput of 440 volts and 300 amperes. He engaged another green dial marked “turbine” and slowly the generator came to life. It began spinning a u-joint coupling, converting the electrical impulse to a mechanical force, rotating the huge generator atop the trailer.
“Okay, Professor, it’s up to you…this is as far as your plans have taken me,” Mills shouted, looking over at Jarrod. “I know you don’t approve of my job here…but I hope you’ll appreciate I’ve completed your design without deviation. This machine is a veritable work of art, Professor Conrad. Be my guest,” he said, standing out of the way and bowing differentially to Jarrod as he entered the command module.
“Is there Wi-Fi available, or do I need a patch?” Jarrod asked, taking the opportunity to send Sarah and Ryan a message.
“Yeah, thanks to Dallas Weaver, we have Internet capability everywhere in the warehouse,” Mills replied enthusiastically.
“Perfect. I may need to interface the mainframe at Stanford; hopefully I have everything I need right here,” he said, keeping the ruse alive.
Jarrod opened the laptop and quickly entered the security password that protected against anyone but him accessing the program files. He then opened his Microsoft Outlook, which automatically uploaded email messages stored in his outbox—and his message to Sarah was on its way. Next he opened the sent file to verify it was delivered and deleted the message to make it difficult to trace. Fortunately the control panel shrouded by Plexiglas made it hard for Starkovich to see exactly what he was doing. Good thinking, Dr. Mills.
With the urgent email about Jer’s safety uploaded to Sarah, he turned his full attention to activation of the machine. He moved cautiously at first, making sure his laptop was turned away from Mills and Starkovich, both of whom continued to hover on the outside of the command module.
Jarrod made the interface between the machine’s computer and his laptop without difficulty, feeding input that would control the precise electrical force applied to the spinning five-pound nuclear core. As he did so, there was a slight change in pitch coming from the machine; it now emitted a low-decibel rumble rather than the higher-pitched hum that preceded his new input. Corresponding with the lower-pitched rumble, the entire trailer began to shudder slightly. Jarrod felt a sense of exhilaration upon realizing that the rumble and change in pitch meant that his antigravity machine was undoubtedly generating gravitrons for the very first time.
“Okay, boys, keep your eyes peeled on the Humvee,” Jarrod yelled excitedly over the din of the machine forcefully vibrating and spinning at full speed.
To everyone’s astonishment and Jarrod’s delight, the unthinkable happened. The microwave dish began emitting an eerie energy flow that resembled heat waves rising from a hot desert landscape. The particles of surrounding air looked iridescent and began shimmering as the wave of gravitrons focused like a ray gun on the Humvee. At first the vehicle continued to remain stationary but then it, too, began to shimmy, sliding a bit sideways as if trying to rise, but lacking enough energy to fully levitate.
Jarrod recognized the problem and immediately entered new data into his formulas on the laptop, which increased the electrical throughput to the core. He then turned the green dial to the new coordinates and the generator immediately responded, rotating faster, beaming more gravitrons at the Humvee. Seconds after the correction, the massive ten-ton vehicle slowly started to rise, lifting about six inches before the heavy tires rose from the floor.
He looked out at Mills, who stood slack-jawed, unable to comprehend what he was witnessing. Jarrod beamed with satisfaction. Except for aviation and rocketry, this was the first known experience of mankind overcoming the bounds of gravity. Pioneers of theoretical physics—from the likes of Isaac Newton to Albert Einstein to Steven Hawking—had each been thwarted in their efforts to harness gravity: the fourth fundamental law of nature. Never in the history of mankind had there been anything close to an achievement of this magnitude; levitating an object of this mass was unprecedented. Jarrod’s theoretical lab experiments paled in comparison to the practical application he was conducting. Levitation was unquestionably one of the most profound human achievements of all time.
Jarrod left the machine running at capacity for several moments, basking in the glory of the moment. He made a mental note of the operating parameters on the command module and the machine’s steady production of elusive gravitrons. He couldn’t be more pleased with the results. He had never experienced such a sated sense of conquest. When he was comfortable that everything was holding steady, with no apparent glitches, he began reducing the electrical input and the Humvee slowly settled back to the warehouse floor. It didn’t appear detrimentally affected in the least.
As soon as the vehicle came to rest, Jarrod pushed the red all-stop button on the console, terminating the electrical connection. The first test of the gravity machine was an unqualified success.
Before closing the laptop, Jarrod went to his file directory to access his proprietary formulas. He found the one he needed and sent the link to the generator’s main computer, comfortable he could later access this whenever needed. Once installed, he alone would control the machine that Mills and Kilmer thought belonged exclusively to them. He then took the opportunity to send another message to Sarah, acting as if he were compiling information regarding the machine’s performance. He could see that both Starkovich and Mills were preoccupied, giddy from observing the first verifiable demonstration of levitation; they weren’t paying him the least bit of attention. He composed the next message, sending it on its way: “Sarah—Jer and I are OK, in warehouse fifty-two minutes from house. Machine works!”
“You’re a genius, Professor! My God…that was incredible,” Mills exclaimed rushing to the entrance of the console as the turbine rolled to a stop.
“Yes, I should say…that exceeded my expectation as well,” Jarrod replied almost inconsequentially. His heightened sense of exhilaration was nearly palpable but he managed to maintain his composure. Under the duress of captivity he felt no compulsion to embrace his incredible achievement. “I’ve never levitated anything beyond the size of a walnut, so to see the full extent of my research come to fruition was pretty cool.”
He quickly checked his email, looking for a return message from Sarah before shutting down the laptop. She had sent a response to his first message: “Will be searching for your location. Keep the faith…Sarah.”
Good. We have a connection. Do your thing, Ryan, Jarrod thought. Jarrod would have never believed in a million years he’d be rooting for his cousin’s help. My, oh, my, how things have changed in the past twenty-four hours.
Jarrod awkwardly drew himself up from the control console, feeling the lingering effects of the sharp punch to his abdomen. He could see Kilmer rushing back toward the trailer and resolved not to make any more concessions until he spoke with Sela. This was his next priority. He walked down the steps of the trailer to be greeted by Jer.
“You’re awesome, Uncle Jarrod,” Jer gushed enthusiastically, rushing to give him a hug. “That was unbelievable. I wish Dad were here…he’d be proud of you, too.”
“Thanks, Jeremiah. Believe me…I wish he were here, too… under very different circumstances. Ryan’s the only one who really knows the significance of this discovery. We’ve both taken different paths to get to this point,” Jarrod replied, breaking away from his embrace. He grimaced, holding his stomach in obvious discomfort.
The mood was uncharacteristically chaotic, with all of the men exchanging high-fives and enjoying the carnival-like atmosphere following Jarrod’s amazing feat of levitation. Each man knew this was a huge step toward the ultimate goal—which, if achieved, would make them all incredibly wealthy.
“Enough,” Kilmer barked, interrupting the revelry. “By jingos, Professor, that was ripper indeed. Good on ya. Why, ya look just as amazed as us. But this is just a start. We have a bigger project in mind and I need to know if this thin’s got the goods.”
“Not so fast, Mr. Kilmer. You promised me a conversation with Sela Coscarelli if I carried out your order. I’ve complied. You owe me,” Jarrod said defiantly, straightening up to disguise any sign of weakness. The mood turned suddenly darker as it appeared another confrontation was brewing between the quarrelsome scientist and the autocratic mercenary.
“Blimey, use yer loaf, Conrad! Yer up shit creek,” Kilmer glowered. “But I’ll cop ya sweet as promised. But don’t think me soft. I take rules of negotiation dead serious. Any commander worth ‘is ribbons would do the same,” Kilmer added, putting a fine point on his rationale to concede to Jarrod’s demand.
Kilmer turned to his men. “Stark, contact Sully. Give ‘im the deal. Have ‘im ring when Coscarelli’s ready to chat with the professor here.”
“I’m on it,” Starkovich replied, flipping open his cell to make the call to Sully Metusack in South Carolina.
“Now, as I said, Professor…we’re on a good wicket here. Mills claims yer contraption can run in reverse to increase gravity. Just wonderin’,” he paused, “what happens to the Humvee if we ran the machine in reverse with the same core?”
“The beauty of the equations lies in their flexibility,” Jarrod replied, intrigued by the question. “Any object levitated with a given energized nuclear force can have its mass theoretically reversed to produce the squared value of the object’s original mass.”
“What’s that mean for an Aussie fool like me?” Kilmer asked, parroting Jarrod’s earlier insult.
Jarrod took a long, exasperated breath. “For exa
mple, if an object normally weighs 100 pounds, the gravity machine could exert 100 pounds squared…or 10,000 pounds of additional force on the object. Einstein first defined this mathematical constant when he discovered relativity. He proved that the amount of energy available in splitting an atom was equal to its mass times the speed of light squared. This is his famous formula, E=mc2. Gravity follows this exact same proportional relationship.
“The Humvee would be flattened if the square of its weight was applied to its fullest extent,” Jarrod explained, smoothly slipping into his customary teaching role, aware that he was speaking well above Kilmer’s learning. “In this case the formula G=m2e defines the amount of available gravity that can be converted by squaring the mass of an object times the amount of electrical force. It’s really rather simple.”
At that moment, Starkovich returned to the group, interrupting the discussion. “I’ve got Sully if you want to talk to him before he puts the woman on,” he said, offering his cell phone to Kilmer. “He understands the drill.”
“No,” Kilmer said. “Let’s git the yappin’ over with. I want to run the next test before we quit and mobilize.”
“Okay, put her on,” Stark said.
Jarrod took the phone from Starkovich and waited.
“Jarrod?” Sela’s voice on the end of the line sounded curious.
“Sela, thank God,” he said, relieved to hear her voice. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine for now. What’s all this craziness about?” she asked hurriedly.
“I don’t know how much time I have, Sela, but everything you’ve heard about Ryan and me is a total fabrication…we’ve been set up…” was all he was able to say before Kilmer cut him off, wresting the phone from his hand.
“Listen up, Coscarelli,” Kilmer said. “I’m holdin’ the professor here. Do what yer told and it’ll all be aces. If I hear yer mixin’ it up, I promise it’ll go badly for ‘em. We clear?”
“Very clear, Mr. Whoever-you-are. But mark my words…my father will not take this matter lying down. I’m sure by now every lawman in the country is aware of my predicament. You’ll rue the day you got involved with my family, sir” she brazenly threatened.
