“Yeah?” I respond, still a little miffed. “You think you know me pretty good, huh?”
“Well, it always happens when you watch too much of that space stuff,” he says. “You go flying off into the ozone, or what’s left of it,” he grins at his attempt at levity, “and then it takes a couple of days before you’re back here on Earth.”
“It happens more often than that, you know. It’s almost like I’m being begged to find the answer to that problem. Somebody’s going to.”
“Well you should listen to your gramps more. He seems almost positive that it’s already been solved. It’s just that they don’t want us to know about it yet.”
“Yeah, he’s got his opinions on stuff, that’s for sure.”
Jared pulls into a parking slot, the car silently rolling to a stop. That’s one thing I’ve always liked about the hybrids; they’re so quiet. In this parking lot though, it looks like an antique and I’m guessing it almost is. There aren’t too many gas burners around anymore. At six dollars a gallon, gas is almost as cheap as the hydrogen used in the fuel-cell cars. That’s why his dad figures they might as well keep it going as long as they can. His dad can fix almost any problem it has because of his mechanical experience at the launch facility. In fact, Jared is getting pretty good at fixing things, too.
“Here comes Willie,” he says confidently, hearing the roar of an even older internal combustion engine.
Willie Charles is Jared’s cousin somehow or other. I have a hard time keeping it straight. He’s a good guy, and has joined us on some of our expeditions through the old graveyard of aircraft that the launch facility was built around. He loves old engines and is real good at fabricating parts. Sometimes better than Jared’s dad. Today he is driving an antique 4 x 4 originally built in 2003, I think. He restored it and, though it gets lousy mileage, loves driving what he calls his “Beast”. Because they polluted so much, some ecologists credit the SUV, and other gas guzzlers like it, for creating the need for fuel-cell vehicles. He pulls into a spot a couple down from us.
“Hey Willie!” Jared shouts as he gets out of the hybrid with a quick wave. Willie can’t hear him, but gives a nod as he revs the 4 x 4 a few times before shutting it down. The huge grin on his face looks almost out of place on his thin frame. He jumps out of the Beast, walking around to the back of it with the slight limp he was left with when he flipped a four wheeler a couple of years back. Swore he’d never race anybody again.
“Hey Jer, Tyler, how’s it going?” he says quietly. Nobody’s really sure why Willie calls Jared, Jer.
“Not too bad. Just glad it’s Friday is all,” I reply. “I see you got it running good,” I add, pointing towards the Beast.
“Yep. Got the rebuilt carb installed just last night and she fired up with no problems.” You can tell he takes pride in his work.
We walk towards the school. The original building is old, made of brick, and pretty ugly. They put a shiny new addition on about eight years ago. It’s constructed out of composite materials and designed with a futuristic thought in mind, but just as ugly as the original, or so most everybody thinks. I make my way towards the old section. It’s about five minutes until the first warning bell.
“Hey Willie. We’re going to watch the landing tonight. Want to come with?” Jared asks.
“Not this time,” he says. “I gotta do some stuff around the house for Ma. And Mr. Barrat wants to see me before class about something so I gotta run. See ya.” Willie takes off in the direction of the shop building.
“Okay. See ya,” Jared calls after him. Willie waves back, moving on as best he can.
“I better get moving too, or I’ll be late. We’re still on for tonight then?” I ask.
“I guess,” he says unenthusiastically.
“I read about it on-line last night. One of the comments mentioned they were dropping it in without a pilot.”
“That’s strange,” Jared comments. “What time?”
“Touchdown is scheduled for 7:32, and they’re always accurate with their times. Why don’t you come to my house around 6:30. That would give us plenty of time to get to The Hill.”
“Okay. You’re riding home with us, right?”
“Um, yeah,” I reply, like it’s a dumb question.
“See you after the last class then,” and he is off.
I’m glad there is something to look forward to. At least the start of the long holiday weekend looks good. Now I just need to get through the next seven and a half hours.
Finally! The last class of the day. Thankfully it is Physics which usually puts me in a good mood. And even though Friday is quiz day, they’re usually not too hard. Sometimes, after the quiz, Mr. Venturi lets us talk about whatever we want even if it’s not physics. It can be a lot of fun, and kind of makes up for the quiz.
Today’s quiz is on electro-magnets and how they work. I like this subject in particular; anything with magnets really, because I believe it relates to gravity. I breeze through the multiple choice questions about current flows, flux density, and polarity. I finish quickly and have a little time until everybody else gets done. I think about the experiments we’ve done in class and how much fun I had doing them.
Some of the kids have a few questions about the quiz after it’s over, so Mr. Venturi has to explain a couple of the answers. But it’s Jennifer Hawley who starts the real discussion.
“Mr. Venturi?” she starts out, “now that some of Einstein’s theories are being reconsidered, how soon do you think it will be before we develop warp drives like they talk about in those old movies about space exploration?”
Jennifer’s favorite subject is space and astrophysics. She has to take physics because light is part of the electromagnetic spectrum. It’s a stretch to get from the subject of our quiz to warp drives, but that’s Jennifer. I try to hide my amusement. She’s such a brain.
“Well,” the answer starts slowly, “it will still be a while so don’t pack your bags for Alpha Centari yet, Jennifer.” The class laughs at his little joke but she’s not embarrassed by it.
“But seriously,” he continues after the class quiets down, “it seems that somebody has discovered a way to energize photons using a charged gas of some sort. When this gas is put into a vacuum, which is what space is, its molecules separate a small amount causing their electrons to be released and join with the photons giving them additional energy and create a form of plasma, I think. So what needs to happen next, I guess, is that somebody has to figure out a way to continuously replace or recharge the gas in the vacuum to keep the reaction going. Then they have to figure out how to channel that energy into some sort of propulsion system that can be used in deep space. What’s really cool is, if you can carry enough of the gas or figure out a way to recharge it as it’s depleted, there’s always going to be enough photons out there, even between solar systems, to carry us anywhere we want to go.”
He stops talking but appears to be in deep thought. Sometimes I think Mr. V. is really an astrophysicist wannabe, but somehow he got stuck teaching kids things most of them really don’t care to know. He looks up and smiles. “My guess is it’ll be at least thirty years before anybody has a prototype working Jennifer.”
I look over at her in time to see a hint of disappointment. First, her favorite read, hero actually, Einstein, gets his long-standing theories questioned, and now this long wait until she can ride around the planets. I admire her ambition.
Time passes quickly with a few other comments until the bell rings. Mr. Venturi dismisses class with an “enjoy the long weekend.” I stash my books in the bag and head for the door.
“Tyler! Wait up, will you?” I hear a voice ask behind me.
It’s Jennifer. I slow my pace a bit and turn to face her. “Hey Jen. What’s up?” She quickly comes up beside me. She has her glasses off now and my gaze is drawn to her brown eyes. They seem almost hypnotic and, framed by her long brown hair, they could easily take you to another place if you let them.
&nb
sp; But not today. We continue down the hall.
“Not much,” she says. “I was wondering if you and Jared are going to watch the landing later on?”
She knows pretty well, that whenever there is a landing, Jared and I are there. “Uh huh,” I reply simply.
Jen has had a crush on Jared since the third grade. He never acknowledged it until the eighth grade, and then only for a little while. I don’t know what feelings are left on either side, but I do know they are still friends. And what she is going to ask next. “Can I come along?”
We arrive at my locker. It’s near the end of the hall, not too far from where the stairs come down from the third floor. As I complete the combination on my lock, Jen comes around the side to face me. I look up at her as I swing my locker door open. Those eyes are looking at me expectantly. I look away to the stairs and see Jared take a hop off the last step. “If it’s okay with him, it’s okay with me.” I nod towards the stairs behind her.
“Hi Jen. Okay with me what?” Jared asks cheerfully as he walks up.
“Jen was asking if she could watch the landing with us tonight.”
“I guess. Sure. Why not?” he quickly replies.
“Great! Where should I meet you guys?” she asks.
“We’re meeting at Tyler’s because my dad is entertaining some investors and doesn’t want us around to get in his way. We’ll head over to The Hill from there.”
“Sounds good,” she says and turns to me. “What time?”
“6:30,” I say, and she’s off with a bounce. “And bring your walking shoes because we’re hiking out there.” She waves as we watch her go around the corner and down another hall to her locker.
I briefly recall our eighth grade summer when Jared and Jennifer spent a lot of time around the hangars at the launch facility. I felt like the odd one; like they really didn’t want me around when they rode bikes and explored around the old planes. Jared told me a few stories about how they would sit talking, and pretending they were flying or traveling to other planets. She was his first kiss, he confided. Then things changed when we started high school.
I look at Jared as I close my locker. He has a slight grin on his face. “What’s that look for?” I ask.
“If you want Jen to come along you don’t need my permission.”
“What? That was her idea. Doesn’t matter to me one way or the other. Besides, you’re the one that has history with her.” There’s a short pause. Jared seems to have gone on a memory tour. “Hey!” I shout to get his attention. “I almost forgot. Why don’t you join Gramps and me for dinner around 6:00 tonight? He’ll probably barbeque something.”
“Sounds good,” he says, coming back to reality. “Let’s get out of here.”
Kylie is waiting by the car. Since her school gets out earlier than ours, she’s walked over to guarantee her ride home. Some freshmen are talking to her, but as we get closer, they scatter.
“What was that about?” Jared asks suspiciously as he stops in front of her.
“None of your business,” comes a snotty-voiced reply.
“None of your business,” he echoes back, mocking her. “Get in the car.”
We roll out of the parking lot. A lot of kids are standing around making plans, so we’re able to get out before the rush.
I feel relaxed and happy on the road home, and notice a sweet new fragrance in the air. Probably some cologne Kylie got from a friend. Suddenly I’m aware of the music playing on the radio. “I love this song!” I yell, reaching over to turn up the volume. Jared just looks at me for a second as I start to sing along with the chorus.
“..which brings us to The Question,
Is it bad? I don't think so,
Facts will be found to keep the world alive.
Are we mad? I don't think so,
It may be our best chance to survive.”
“You and your space songs,” Jared cuts in, reaching over to turn the volume down.
“Better than that techno crap you listen to,” I shoot back.
“Knock it off you jerks,” comes Kylie’s voice from the back seat. “I’m thinking.”
I listen to the rest of the song without additional vocalizing. I accept the fact that I can’t sing too good, but I still enjoy it. Too bad for anybody listening.
“Hey Ty?” Kylie says, leaning forward, the delicate perfumed scent wafting more invasively into the front seat.
“Yeah?” I reply with half my attention.
“What do you know about gyroscopes?”
“Nothing,” I say, hoping to return to my own thoughts.
“My last paper in science is supposed to be about gyroscopes,” she continues. “I want to write a computer program to control pitch and speed in order to maintain stability like those astronaut training things do.”
I turn my head to look at her. I have never heard her say anything remotely scientific before. I look over at Jared, then back at Kylie.
“Umm. I, uh…” I manage to utter. “I really don’t remember much about gyroscopes, Ky. Just that the spinning causes inertia which somehow... I don’t know.” I turn to watch more scenery pass by as I end my sentence with frustration at not being able to answer her.
“Dad says if she can get a program working, he’ll help her adapt it to an old training module that’s in one of the hangars. He says he’d like to make it into another exhibit at the launch facility, but the old controllers are shot. I think he’s just leading her on so she’ll get better grades,” Jared explains.
“He is not,” she rebuts. “My grades are okay, and he’ll figure out a way to make it work. You wait and see.” She sits back in the seat only a little annoyed.
A few more minutes and we’ll be home. Maybe I’ll surf a few web pages about gyroscopes to help Kylie. And because I’m curious now. I wouldn’t mind helping her. Ky and Ty. Hmmm. Has a cute sort of ring to it.
“Finally!” Kylie’s voice chimes magically from the back. “Elf City.” Then she giggles.
A Mysterious Cargo
Gramps and I are sitting outside on the porch talking, smoke from the grill wafting around our heads. We’re having ribs and beans tonight, one of my favorites and his specialty. I can see they’re almost ready when Jared pulls in about five minutes before 6:00.
“Hey young fella,” Gramps greets Jared as he walks up the steps. “Ty was just telling me you guys are watching the landing later on.”
“Yep,” Jared answers. “We’re heading over to The Hill in a half hour or so.”
“I used to love watching the old shuttles take off and land,” Gramps continues. “There was something romantic about it; going into space and seeing the world from the outside.”
“Still is, Grandpa,” I say. “The planes aren’t as big, but the dreams still are. They just have to finish the outpost, set up the staging area for expeditions, and we’ll be doing all those things your old TV shows tell about.”
Jared nods his agreement adding, “Why don’t you come with us?” I look at him quickly wondering where that idea came from.
“Nope. Not this time,” Gramps answers. “Henri is coming over later and we’re going for a ride the old fashioned way.”
Gramps loves taking his vintage motorcycle “out for a little exercise,” as he puts it. He used to have a stable of bikes, but when the government started cutting the benefits for older folks, he just couldn’t afford to keep them any longer. I felt sorry for him, being independent for so many years, and then having to come live with us because of those cutbacks.
“I think we’re ready,” he says after getting up and flipping the ribs a few times. “Tyler, grab the plates. Take a seat, Jared.”
I eagerly assist as the ribs are moved onto a platter and set on the table. Jared is into the pot of beans before Gramps and I even sit down. A few seconds later the only sound that’s heard is one of chowing down.
The ribs are hot and sticky, with just enough sauce, as we gnaw without interruption for the next few minutes. I think it
’s Gramps who finally, in between licking his fingers, mutters, “Nothing like it,” to nobody in particular. Jared and I look up for a minute before indulging in another few bites to indicate our agreement.
We finish our ribs in no time. I sit back noticing the other satisfied smiles while licking the leftover sauce from the corners of my mouth. “That was fun,” I comment.
“Thanks for dinner,” Jared says. “That was real good!”
“Glad you liked it. We’ll do it again sometime,” Gramps offers.
As we finish clearing the dishes away, I hear the unmistakable sound of Henri’s bike coming up the drive. Henrietta Watts is a few years younger than my grandfather, but they both love to ride and have been friends for many years as far as I know. We all walk out to greet her, admiring her motorcycle.
Her old bike coughs a blue cloud as she shuts it off. I’ll never get used to the noise and smell these old machines make. It’s great history, but definitely an assault on the senses.
“Hi ya, Tom; Tyler,” she says with a grin on her face. “How you boys doing?” Her southwestern accent is warm and friendly.
“We’re doing okay, Henri,” says Gramps, patting his belly gently.
I nod in agreement adding, “This is my friend Jared, Ms. Watts.”
“Good to meet you,” Henri responds, extending her gloved hand to Jared. “Bet you boys are gonna watch that space plane come down tonight, eh Tyler?”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” I reply enthusiastically.
“So, Tom?” she asks turning to Gramps, “We gonna ride or what?”
“Sure thing,” comes his reply. “Why don’t you stretch a minute while I get my gear?”
“Yeah. I suppose that’s a good idea,” she says, getting off her bike. “I sure stiffen up quickly these days.”
“We’ll be up in the loft, Gramps. See you later, Ms. Watts,” I say as they head up the porch. I hear Gramps ask Henri if she needs anything to drink as Jared and I walk across the parking area to the door of the shed.
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