“I’d like to, but I told Willie I’d be there at noon when he goes to lunch.”
“Okay then. I’ll go get the money,” Gramps says. “Kylie, could you watch the pot here for a minute?”
“No problem,” Kylie answers, slipping off the chair and around to the stove to take the fork from Gramps. “Smells good,” she chimes.
“I guess I’ll go get mine too then,” I say sadly, sorry to part with my savings.
I get back and begin counting out what I have. Gramps walks in as I finish, and counts out up to the four hundred and fifty. “I expect a receipt,” Gramps says, businesslike.
“Not a problem,” Jared assures him. “I guess I’ll get going then.” He’s up quickly, heading out the door.
“See ya,” I say. I notice Kylie just wave over her shoulder. Seems like more of a brush off than a goodbye.
Gramps folds up his remaining cash, sliding a money clip around it before slipping it into a pocket of his jeans. Tossing a bag of sandwich rolls onto the table, he grabs a hot pad for the pan of BBQ. “Ms. Kylie, bring that pan over here. I’m famished.”
A half hour later, Kylie and I are on our way out to the loft. The sun is bright as we cross the driveway. She takes my hand, swinging it gently as we walk. A tasty lunch of Gramps’ pulled pork always puts me in a good mood, too.
“I want to show you this,” I say as we walk into the shed where Gramps and I have been working. I lead her to where the winding apparatus is set up.
“This is what Gramps came up with for making the windings. We salvage the wire off the motors and put it onto the containment field frames.” I turn the food processor on to demonstrate.
“You guys are so clever,” she says with mock admiration.
“Hey! It takes a lot of brain power to come up with these ideas and make them work,” I respond, playing along. “This process is not as easy as it looks.”
“No?”
“No. First you have to unwind the motor wires, then you have to wind the containment coils. It would be nice to be able to do it all in one step to cut the time in half.”
“What’s the big deal about that?” she teases.
“I only have two hands!” I point out. “I could really use some help.”
“Some help?”
“Okay. It would be really nice if you would help me with this.”
“Depends on how the program works, I suppose. All of this will be meaningless without the program.”
“Then we better go see if it works… this time,” I tease back.
She turns, quickly bounding up the stairs, almost as if she is trying to run away. I want to chase after, but have to carry the containment fields and the control modules. “Some help would’ve been nice,” I shout after her, but I don’t think she hears me.
When I get upstairs, Kylie is already busy at the computer loading the updated version of her software. I set the components on the table, quickly connecting the wires of the interface modules to the containment fields before retrieving the G-bits from their staging shelf back in the storage area.
Kylie has the program running by the time I return and is completing the cabling from the computer to the modules. “Almost ready.” Looking at the envelopes, she asks, “Are those already measured?”
“As close as I can get them,” I answer. I let go of the envelopes.
“Hey!” she shouts, starting to grab for them.
“It’s okay,” I reply, reaching out to stop her from interfering as the envelopes hover. “Each envelope has been weighed, and each has an equal weight of paper clips on them. Since the paperclips are of equal weight, I figure it must take an equal number of G-bits to get them to do that.” We watch them for a minute. The air currents in the room cause the envelopes to bob or turn slightly together.
“It’s like they’re dancing,” Kylie says softly, sounding a bit romantic. She takes hold of my left wrist, swings me gently around to face her, takes my right hand in her left and starts humming. I stumble a few times trying to match her step.
“Can’t you dance?” she asks, looking up at me, eyes sparkling.
“Umm… no, not really,” I stammer, feeling awkward.
“I can teach you,” she offers. Stepping back so we are at arms length, she instructs, “A waltz goes like this,” and begins counting, “one, two, three, one, two, three, one, two, three.”
I watch her feet as she demonstrates. “Just do what I’m doing,” she encourages me, continuing the one, two, three, one, two, three rhythm with her feet.
I try to match her side to side motion with one big step then bringing my feet together again. Two steps seem to work just fine for me. You just need to hold one for two counts. Then she starts turning causing me to stumble again.
“The third beat is so you can change directions and spin,” she informs me, patiently waiting for me to get in step again.
Once we are synchronized, the counting turns into a melody. She pulls me a little closer. I can feel my right hand getting a little sweaty as it rides on her waist, transferring the movement of her hip to my body so we can keep in step.
Finally we lock in motion. I look up, trying to quit watching my feet. She is smiling sweetly at me, her eyes glistening. I stumble. She catches me. I hear the music stop. We quit dancing but stand looking at each other, still in the dance embrace. She pulls me closer, burying her face in my shoulder. As both my arms reflexively wrap around her waist, I hear her say, “I think I love you.” I feel nervous inside. I enjoy holding Kylie.
I hear the creaking of the shed door downstairs, probably Gramps. Kylie looks up at me as I feel her hold loosen a little. She stretches up, kissing me lightly on the lips before letting go. Another tingle of excitement surges through my body. I turn to follow her over to the experiment table.
“How’s it going up here?” we hear Gramps ask, as he crests the top of the stairs.
“Power’s on,” Kylie replies quickly. “We just finished loading the new software and hooking everything up.
“Good,” he comments, joining me at the table. “I was afraid I might be too late to observe the test results.”
I look at him. “We’re, uh, almost ready,” I stammer. He looks suspiciously at me. I feel my face flush. I see him grin before I look away. I glance at Kylie who looks at me and giggles. I try to deliver a stern look, the kind a teacher would make if you were on the border of trouble. Except for the smile on my face, she might have taken me seriously.
“Okay. Where are the bits?” Gramps asks. He notices them floating by the book shelf and heads over to retrieve them. He passes the G-bit envelopes to me, then holds the compass near one of the containment fields. We watch the needle spin as he passes the compass around both towers, the tip indicating north, always pointing towards the coils. “Looks good,” he announces. “I think we’re ready for the G-bits.”
“Containment fields are at the initialization stage,” Kylie confirms, matter-of-factly.
“Hold on a minute,” Gramps says. “There’s no load here.”
“What?” Kylie asks with alarm. “You mean the power’s gone off?”
“No. I mean the towers aren’t attached to the table or anything. We have no way of telling how much weight they are lifting, or to keep them from stretching the power leads until they break for that matter.”
I feel stupid. “Should I run down and get some hooks and wire?”
“That’s a good idea,” Gramps replies. “No, wait. I’ll get that stuff. How many pounds of weights are there back in storage?”
“A hundred and forty.”
“You start bringing those in.” He heads for the stairs.
I let the envelopes loose to hover again and turn to get the weights from the storage area. As I pass Kylie, she stands up. “I’ll help,” she announces and we walk around the corner to get the weights.
As we’re completing the second trip, Gramps is coming up the stairs with more lightweight chains, eight eye bolts and a drill. “Mind
if I drill a few holes?” he asks, but without waiting for a reply he begins, while Kylie and I get the last of the weights.
By the time we get back, Gramps has slipped the bolts through the new holes. Reaching into a pocket, he hands me some washers and nuts. “Put these on those,” he instructs.
I crawl under the table to spin the nuts on. “Kylie, would you hold the bolts for me please?” Once in position, I poke at the threads sticking through the table to indicate which bolt I’m working on. Soon all of the eye bolts are secure.
Gramps has attached hooks and laid the chains out by the time Kylie and I finish. “You keep an eye on that one. I’ll watch this one,” he says from the other side of the table. “Okay. Now we’re ready for the bits, I think.”
I reach for the still hovering envelopes and hand one of them to him. Kylie sits down in front of the computer again to verify the status of her program. She looks up and gives me a nod. I look over at Gramps, give him the nod, and we both open our envelopes to pour the G-bits up into the containment fields, which immediately begin emitting their blue glow.
“Kylie?” Gramps says when we finish, “can you adjust the power so that both towers hover equally, but still leave some slack in the chains?”
“The software should be able to do that. I programmed the steps in micro-amps,” she replies. “Since each module has its own address now, I can adjust them individually.”
“Good,” Gramps say. “Let’s see how it works.”
“Here goes.”
The tower closest to Gramps begins rising a few seconds later, gently, like a hot air balloon that’s just had the burners switched on. It rises about a foot before stopping with the chains still slightly sagging. Now the tower in front of me begins to rise in the same manner, stopping at a height almost equal to the other.
“That’s some pretty fine control,” Gramps comments.
“Thanks,” Kylie beams. “I’m going to switch to the primary lift control now.”
“Just take up the slack,” Gramps suggests.
The towers rise together until they tug at the chains equally.
“Shouldn’t we equal out the weights to balance the table before we go any further?” I ask anxiously hoping to avoid another crash.
“Good idea,” Gramps agrees. We push the heavy metal disks around, putting the heaviest towards the center. “How many pounds are here?”
“One hundred forty, plus the table and the weight of the towers; maybe a hundred sixty-five.”
“Okay, Ms. Kylie,” Gramps instructs, “power ‘em up slowly now.”
Kylie begins counting the power increments. “One; one point five; two; two point five…”
At three, the hum of electricity through the coils becomes more noticeable. But what I have never heard before is the crackle, at least not so pronounced.
“Four; four point five,” Kylie continues.
“Tyler, steady the table. I think it’s starting to lift,” Gramps says quickly.
I place my hands, palms down, on the corner of the table and lean forward, locking my elbows. The tower on my side is about fourteen inches from my face making the crackling more audible. I feel some heat, but not much more than a light bulb.
I shift my focus, noticing Gramps is now applying pressure to keep the table steady too. I hear Kylie keep counting up, tension rising in her voice along with the numbers.
I can feel the table pushing me up. I have to rise up on the balls of my feet or they might leave the ground. “I’m being lifted,” I state anxiously, leaning in more to keep my balance.
“Eight point five,” Kylie announces.
“Hold it there,” Gramps commands. “I’m starting to get light footed as well. Kylie, is the table off the ground?”
I imagine she peers around the corner of the desk. I can’t look or my balance will shift and the table will probably take off for the ceiling, causing the wires to pull out, and the table to fall, leaving a big mess.
“It’s almost three inches off the ground,” Kylie reports with astonishment in her voice.
“That’s pretty good,” Gramps replies, his own voice sounding strained. “See if it holds another minute and then we’ll let it down.”
It seems like a long minute, but I’m pretty sure Kylie is watching the clock on the computer.
Finally she announces a minute has passed.
“Okay. Let her down slowly,” Gramps says.
I feel my feet go flat on the floor, though I don’t let pressure off the table until I actually see the slack come back into the chains. My arms feel strained as I move away from the table to shake them out. I look towards Kylie. She glances up from the computer screen with a big smile.
“Power up again, just so they’re tugging on the chains a bit, Ms. Kylie. I’d like to see how the circuit boards hold.”
“Okay, Mr. Gramps,” she responds humorously, turning back to the computer. The crackle and hum get a little louder again.
“That went pretty well,” Gramps remarks.
“Everything works good,” I agree. “And I’d say the software functions exactly as it needs to.”
Kylie beams. “Thanks. Now I just have to plug these sub-routines into the gyro program and we’ll be ready to go.”
I hear her phone chirp. As she answers it, Gramps says, “This is absolutely the most incredible thing I have ever experienced.” I turn to face him. “To think that I have actually seen gravity come under this kind of control…” His voice trails away.
“Jared wants us to bring a tower over as soon as we’re done here,” Kylie says as her phone conversation ends. “They want to see how the mounting hardware works.”
“Okay,” I say.
“I guess we’re about done here,” Gramps concludes. “Let’s finish this up, so you two can be on your way.”
It’s nearly forty-five minutes before we get over to the hangar. Kylie cradles the tower as we walk in. Jared and Jennifer are sitting in front of the saucer, facing the door.
“It’s about time!” Jared yells.
Kylie and I ignore him as we walk over to where they wait. On the floor in front of them, are several pieces of PVC pipe of different diameters and lengths. There are also a couple of very large U-shaped brackets.
“So what’s the problem?” I ask bluntly.
“No problem,” Jennifer responds, “we just want to see how well the containment frame fits in these tubes.” She reaches to take the tower from Kylie. Then she tries to place it inside the tube nearest her. It slides in easily. “I thought so,” she states.
“The tubes are bigger,” Kylie says, “so what.”
“Well, if they’re too much bigger, then the coils will have to be bigger. Or the power will have to be greater. I’m not sure which would be best.”
“Well, I’m not unwinding and rewinding those coils,” I say defiantly. “Can’t you just put spacers in to fill the gaps?”
“Willie thinks that would be structurally unsound,” Jared comments.
“And you wouldn’t have to rewind these coils,” Jen adds. “The pitch control towers can be smaller, so you can just unwind these by twenty or twenty-five loops.” She picks up the next smaller diameter pipe. “That’s what these are for.” The tower won’t fit inside the second pipe.
“Could the cross-braces be eliminated?” I ask. “I’d hate for you to have to re-cut all of those.”
“We were thinking the same thing,” Jared says. He picks up the first tube again, flipping it over. I notice a sleeve has been inserted inside it. “We were thinking each leg could be mounted individually, tightly pressed up against this sleeve, and bolted in.” He picks up one of the larger rings and slips it over the top. Handing the assembly to me, he stands up, grabbing one of the large U-brackets and sliding it around the assembly. “Then these attach the whole thing to the cowling, which will be reinforced to handle the stress.”
“And Willie thinks this is the best way to go?” I ask.
“We can’t t
hink of any other possibilities,” Jen replies.
“What about recapturing the bits after flight,” Kylie asks, thinking ahead.
“We’re going to put a cap on top. When the power goes off, we’ll be able to collect them when there’s time.”
“Hmm,” I say, turning the assembly in my hand to look at it from all angles. “I believe this will work.”
“That’s good,” Jared said sarcastically. “I’ll let Willie know.”
“Did everything work out with his dad okay?” I ask. “With the money, I mean?”
“Yep. Willie says it shouldn’t be any problem getting the skin fabric or any other parts we need,” Jared assures me. “I guess he convinced his dad that we have a backer.”
“A backer? Who would that be?”
“Your grandfather, of course, and that was enough for Willie’s dad.”
“I’m not so sure Gramps would be happy about it.”
“Well, it’s keeping us going for now anyway.”
“I guess.” I know I’ll have to go home and let Gramps know about this development. But for now I put that in the back of my mind and climb up on the scaffold. “Anything else?” I ask before heading down to the cockpit.
“I don’t think so,” Jared answers, looking at Jennifer. She shrugs her shoulders.
I look at Kylie momentarily, and nod my head towards the cockpit. She playfully answers by climbing up on the scaffold.
“You kids be careful up there,” Jared cautions in a parental tone. “That cockpit’s really not sized for two.” He laughs, seeming to accept that Kylie and I are becoming close.
“Okay, Dad,” she mocks him. His only response is a laugh as he and Jennifer get up to leave.
We walk to the lip of the cowling to look into the cockpit. Jared and Willie have gotten a lot done. I barely recognize the fuel cells from the hy-ped. And the extraneous material from the helicopter has been cut away, with the essential components looking securely attached to the bracing they had welded in for the gyroscope.
I climb in to sit in the pilot’s seat, looking at the hole where the computer screen will be mounted. Like a little kid, I pretend to take the still imaginary controls. I look up at Kylie who is smiling at me.
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