by J. J. Lorden
“Yeah, I’ll be okay. It just hit me real hard when you got going. I was one of those corporate pricks. I know those assholes, and I know you’re not full of shit.” He looked away slightly and exhaled. “It’s fine, part of my path. Let’s do this.”
Bendik gripped his shoulder firmly, and they both turned to face the auditorium side by side. Bendik spoke. “Carbon is the most versatile and critical element in our world and perhaps in the universe. Humanity has understood this for hundreds of years, as we’ve manipulated it to harden steel, burned it to stay warm and, used it as a store of wealth when we dig diamonds out of the ground.
“It’s the principal bonding element in plastics and fossil fuels. It also makes up nearly 20% of the mass of every human body. It is the basis of all organic life and inherently one of the strongest molecules in existence. It is also notoriously difficult to manipulate with any kind of precision.”
Behind him, the black sheet completed, tinting the area within the frame. Those seated closest to the front leaned in as another layer began covering the first and darkening the pane.
“More than forty years ago, a couple of guys were messing around with some carbon bricks and discovered that a simple piece of tape could be used to extract a one-molecule-thick layer of carbon from its surface. That was the discovery of a material we’ve come to call graphene.
“Testing at the time showed graphene to be more than ten thousand times stronger than hardened steel or titanium. It was acclaimed as a miracle material. And in all the time since then, we’ve managed to do basically nothing with it.
“Nobody’s been able to figure out how to work with the stuff. We could make disorganized piles of it; we just couldn’t make it bond the way we wanted. A molecularly uniform sheet of graphene has been nothing but a dream.
“I will avoid delving any deeper into the science, however…” He trailed off and stepped aside, gesturing to the tinted pane. Another layer began to grow over the three that were already present. “That is now a problem of the past.”
“Each layer you see spreading across this frame is exactly one carbon molecule thick. The lattice connections of succeeding layers are being formed with slightly different initial bond angles. This allows the sheets to slide across each other while still equally distributing forces across all sheets.
“In addition, the nano-bots in suspension that are doing this work will remain in the material after the barrier is completed. They will actively maintain and repair it in real-time as it takes damage. When it is complete, the barrier you see here will be exactly seven molecules thick. That’s a hundred times thinner than a sheet of paper.”
He paused and leaned forward slightly. “Those seven layers could support the weight of an eighteen-wheeler balanced on a pen.”
Bendik regarded the darkening graphene barrier as the fifth layer began. Looking back to the audience, he smiled slightly. “As you can imagine, we don’t need to be balancing many semi-trucks on pens.” His smile expanded and then disappeared.
“However, bullets are also small pointed objects. And those we’d very much like to stop.”
Jim lifted the case he was holding, unclasped the latches, opened the lid, and spun it toward Bendik. Bendik reached into the case and removed a massive, steel-grey hand cannon.
The gun was the size of his forearm; most of the length was a square barrel with crenulations running along the top. It looked almost cartoonish. He held the gun up for the audience to see, and hushed whispers rippled across them.
“This is a custom-made, semi-automatic, .454 magnum. Those of you familiar with anime or manga may find it looks similar to the Hellsing Casull. If you are wondering why I have a gun up here, that question will be answered momentarily.
“As to the question of why such a large gun”–he smiled at them–“I don’t believe in half measures.” Laughter ripped through the space.
“This weapon delivers almost two-and-a-half times more power than a .44 magnum and is capable of defeating all of the lightweight body armors currently in use.” He paused momentarily. “It is a very, very dangerous weapon. And, in case you are wondering, no–it is not commercially available.”
Bendik lowered the gun and reached into the case, removing a foot-long suppressor nearly the diameter of a baseball bat. He deftly screwed it onto the end of the barrel. Next, he pulled out two pieces that snapped together into a stock, which he attached at the back of the pistol grip.
Bendick checked the chamber, then held up what now appeared to be a rifle with an oversized barrel. Jim handed him a magazine, closed the case, and set it on the ground beside the frame.
“The rounds from this gun will be traveling at over one thousand nine hundred feet per second and would punch clean through a quarter-inch plate of hardened steel.” He looked back down at the nearly opaque frame as a seventh layer began to expand over the surface; six small green dots were illuminated on the frame edge, while a seventh flashed red.
Bendik nodded to Jim and began walking diagonally across the stage away from him. “This technology is in its very infancy, and this demonstration will only scratch the surface of what our carbon-manipulation technology will make possible. However, we think you’ll agree that it’s convincing.”
Bendik turned about and saw that all seven lights were green. He nodded to Jim, and the big, red-faced executive got behind the black sheet, where he appeared as a shadowy outline. Murmuring spread across the crowd.
Jim stepped back out, and his commanding voice boomed through the auditorium. “Enough of that. You can gossip later. Right now, just sit and watch. Please.” He went back behind the black rectangle as the murmuring died to a few chuckles, then silence.
Bendik smiled, looked over his shoulder at the crowd, and addressed his President. “Thanks, Jim!”
Jim’s deep baritone responded from behind the sheet, “You’re welcome. That’s what you pay me for. I’m standing back here for free.”
Bendik chuckled as he jammed a couple of foam earplugs into his ears. He then slid the magazine into the handle of the gun with a decisive click. The flat black of the oversized magazine stuck out several inches.
He raised the gun to his shoulder and briefly sighted down the barrel, then pulled his head back and called out, “Ready?”
“Ready!” Jim replied.
Bendik didn’t hesitate. He leaned his head to the sight and squeezed off a round. Pffft.
The gun rocked back against his shoulder, and the black sheet rippled in the center like a stone dropped in a pond. He pulled his chin away from the sight and verified his aim was true. Seeing the ripple spot center mass on the target, he bent his head back and fired again. Pffft. And again, Pffft. And again, Pffft.
In rapid succession, Bendik emptied the fifteen-round magazine into what looked like nothing more than a dark window. Its surface danced like a drum.
In less than thirty seconds, he was done and lowered the weapon, deftly flipping the safety back on with his thumb. Jim stepped out from behind the sheet and took a knee, picking the spent rounds off the ground.
Then he grabbed up the case and kicked a release at the base of the frame. It rose a couple inches and two perpendicular legs with wheels folded out of the bottom. Jim walked to the front of the stage where Bendik waited, pushing the frame next to him like an odd piece of luggage.
He bent and handed the fifteen flattened bullets to a black-clad security man, who then walked back and started handing them out, one every few rows for people to inspect and pass along.
Bendik gripped the other side of the frame and pulled it parallel to the front edge of the stage. “Nano-carbon manipulation will change the world. And it is the dozens of small breakthroughs that many people in this room are responsible for that have made it a reality.
“In short, this technology will make it possible to solve our energy issues. We will be able to pull excess carbon from our atmosphere and re-sequester it in plants and soils where it belongs.
“It will be the keystone around which a new era of chemical-free fertilization will dawn. We’ll be able to build carbon cords strong enough to suspend the entire Golden Gate Bridge on a single cable no thicker than my wrist.
“A day trip into space will someday be your plan for a holiday weekend.” He offered a small laugh. “I’m looking forward to that.” The audience rumbled with mirth.
“And I am not exaggerating when I tell you that nano-carbon manipulation will not just keep us safe but, in time, will enable us to travel between the stars.
“The age of James T. Kirk and other fictional characters like him is visible from where we stand now.” He paused, holding the tension in the room.
A few of the most experienced bloggers bent over their devices to scribble furiously. The gentle tapping of plastic styluses on hard crystal screens carried over the space as if they were the only ones present.
“However.” He paused. “You are owed nothing. This fantastic future is not your right.
“You must evolve; we as a race must evolve to earn it. You must dare the darkness in search of the truth.
“Become the unlikely warriors silently moving the needle of acceptance and action toward some yet unseen but absolutely possible answer.
“Focus your individual power upon imagining and creating a solution that pulls our small blue orb back from the brink of brushing humanity off like so many interstellar gnats.
“We are so small and so grand at the very same time. This world, this universe, will not continue to include us if we cannot find a way to connect and balance our needs against its demand for respect.
“There are a thousand right actions available to each of you. You must find them for yourself. This is my memo to you and my message to humanity.
“Look for truth, accept the pain, find the beautiful unseen, and then get to the work at hand. It’s the only work worth doing.”
He stopped and stood there, looking at them all. The silence stretched on for a long minute.
Some eyes teared yet again. Several people bent forward in their seats, faces hidden in shame or fear. Others lolled their heads back, staring up in contemplation, feeling the impact of the challenge issued.
Bendik had no interest in letting them off the hook. He was clear about the impact he’d engineered in the auditorium; he had intended to jumpstart this small group and kick them out of complacency.
He knew very well the emotions roiling in them all–he could both see and feel it. Bendik had been an empath from a young age, and it had made him a kind and compassionate youngster, one who detested conflict and violence.
In a single decade, he’d built Texier Quantum to the power it was by leveraging his passion for exploring the capacity of quantum energies. For the latter half of that decade, he’d been dancing in a ring of fire that burned with political agendas and power struggles.
He was always the outspoken voice that was pressured to play along. Death threats, corporate espionage, and subversive government actions meant to cripple his company and silence him were all part of his recent past, and he’d learned much from them.
Early on, he’d been forced to curtail his outspoken stance or risk losing his business. His apparent willingness to fall in line had placated the forces set against him.
In his heart, however, he held fast to those beliefs.
The dirty business had tempered his beautiful but passive tendencies, and during these past years, he’d observed and built his power base behind the disguise of playing by the rules.
Now he was done with that. Now he needed leverage. He needed new leaders.
Eventually, the tension started to drop, and a few people began fidgeting. He turned to Jim and nodded.
Jim broke the spell. “Seems like most of you actually got the message. Congratulations. Welcome to the club.” He smiled warmly. The gesture was genuine with a knowing energy that captured them all.
Beside Jim, Bendik discretely bent a hand toward the nanite screen, twisted his wrist, and closed his palm. The graphene started retreating, lights winking from green to red.
Jim continued, “In the company app, you’ll find a link to sign up for Arete Ascending. Arete Ascending is a week-long seclusion intensive created by Doctor Bazzle Candelaria designed to draw out human greatness.
“During it, you’ll have the opportunity to transcend your fears, rewire ineffective thinking patterns, and be revealed for the glorious human that you are.”
He grinned. “It’s fucking incredible.”
The auditorium undulated with laughter at Jim’s break from character.
“For those of you who have a schedule that permits leaving for a week on short notice, please sign up for the first one. Everyone else, sign up for another. If your family needs support while you’re away, indicate as much, and it will be provided.”
Muffled chatter accompanied devices lighting up about the room.
Jim held up his hands and the chatter died. “You’ve got a mountain to climb now, as do I. This is the beginning of the opportunity of your life.”
He held up a hand then clinched it into a fist. “Grab it.” Jim’s intense eyes swept over them all.
“Take personal responsibility for realizing the truth of who you are and free yourself, whatever the cost. I’ll be right here with you.” The moisture darkening his shirt and his red-rimmed eyes told the truth of Jim’s statement.
“Mr. Texier will take questions now.”
The room dragged itself slowly back into reality. The press core shook themselves awake, and after a bit, Gloria Brass, a woman in the press area, raised a hand. Jim prompted her.
“Mr. Texier, what’s your source for the unredacted foreign government research.”
Bendik replied with a shrug. “The truth doesn’t belong to anyone Gloria. We must simply allow ourselves to see it. In this case, it is available because anonymous individuals followed their conscience and decided I needed to see it.”
Jim had to silently laugh at that response. It wasn’t a lie, not exactly. The self-titled, Texier Intelligence Liberation Team, or TILT as they liked to call themselves, who’d acquired the data were all very conscientious people.
After that first question, a flood of others followed, both from the writers and the Texier employees. Jim corralled them like a pro, and Bendik answered them with an undisguised agenda.
Those pertaining to his intended message he handled with thought and sincerity. Those that did not, he answered curtly or, in some cases, declined to answer. He was clearly done pandering to authority.
Twenty minutes later, Bendik removed his rod of graphene from the now-empty frame, and he and Jim walked off the stage.
Backstage, Bendik kissed his wife and high-fived his son. Then he squeezed Jim’s shoulder and handed him a black fiberglass case with a silver-embossed Texier logo.
“Not sure how long I’ll be gone, but these will work to contact me no matter the distance.”
Jim popped the box open. Inside was a pair of stylish, tortoise-shell sporting glasses with amber lenses. They were similar to the ones Bendik wore, though much less bookish.
Jim got a bit wide-eyed. “Really? I thought these weren’t working yet.”
Bendik smiled back. “We got them figured last week, and I wanted to surprise you. Call it a thank you. I know I’m asking a lot.”
Jim put the glasses on and looked around appraisingly. “Damn, these are great. Everything is crisper.” He pulled them down the bridge of his nose to check the view without the glasses, then pushed them back up. “Oh yeah. Wow, that makes a big difference. Thanks, Ben, I appreciate it.”
Bendick pointed a finger toward them. “I’d recommend that you wear those as often as possible. They’ll help me keep tabs on you, and the imbued nanites are keyed to your ocular cells. Over time, they’ll improve your vision.”
“Really?” Jim replied. He pulled the glasses off, turning them about with a disbelieving look.
Bendik nodded. “Yes, real
ly. Those are the same as mine.” Jim looked between the pair Bendik wore and those he was holding. There were minor differences, but they looked like two styles from the same line.
Bendik continued, “I’ve been wearing them for only ten days, Jim, and I can read street signs like I could 20 years ago.” Jim’s brow rose and he smoothly slipped the glasses back on.
Bendik smiled; he appreciated the genuine response. He motioned at the box Jim was still holding out. “Also, keep that on you at all times.”
Jim looked down at the box–he’d thought it was empty. Seeing nothing else in it, he looked quizzically at Bendik. Bendik indicated the area beneath the void left by the glasses.
Jim looked more closely and saw it.
There, snugged into the felt, was a black oval slightly larger than a walnut but flat like a skipping stone.
Jim picked up the device and rubbed it between thumb and forefinger. It had a dry, smooth feel. He let it fall into his hand. It was surprisingly light and fit neatly into the bowl of his palm.
He looked at Bendik. “What is it?”
Bendik pointed at it. “That is a personal protection device. It’s made of kinetic nanites, a bit more advanced than those we demonstrated on stage. These are keyed to you and you alone.”
Jim regarded it with disbelief. “Really?”
Bendik smiled again. Jim’s repeated surprise was endearing from such a talented and accomplished man. “Yes, Jim. Really.” His words were kind but amused.
“If you’re threatened with violence and need to protect yourself, grip it between your thumb and forefinger and press firmly twice. It’ll buzz, then hold the stone to your breastbone or belly, and a graphene nano-shield will deploy around your body. You can also keep it in your hand if you need to–it will just take longer to cover your body.
“You’ll be able to move when it’s deployed, but not quickly; at best, you can manage a brisk walk. So, if you’re in a position where you can, try to call for help before you activate it.
“It’s thick, overkill really, 41 layers, so the shell will stop basically anything. And the carbon will distribute the force from the point of impact with excellent efficiency, but it is still a flexible material, so they won’t bounce off you like Superman. If you get shot–it will hurt.” He smiled. “But fast pointy things can’t get through.”
