Warp Speed

by Travis S. Taylor

  "She's lost a considerable amount of blood. And there are glass fragments imbedded throughout her arm." Jim shouted over my shoulder.

  The doctor, as it turns out, stayed online with us all the way to the door of the emergency room. When I told him we were pulling into the hospital he signed off and met us at the door. It must have been a slow day. He and an orderly helped us get 'Becca out of the car. By this time the towels were dripping wet with blood and 'Becca was getting very weak. We got 'Becca and the cooler with her appendage in it on a stretcher and they rolled her off. Jim tried to explain the accident but he had no idea why the nanotech chamber exploded. Most likely it imploded first. Tabitha had gotten Rebecca's purse and we rummaged through her wallet until we found her insurance card. Once the clerk had swiped 'Becca's card through the machine, there was nothing we could do but wait.

  "Should we call her parents or anything?" Johnny asked.

  "Well, she never knew who her dad was and her mom died when she was in high school. We're really all she has as far as family goes." And don't worry we're damn sure gonna take care of her, I thought.

  "What did her mom die of?" Johnny asked.

  "Bad crack," is all Jim said.

  After Rebecca's mom had died she worked her butt off in school and at life to make sure she wasn't going to end up another tragic story. At least now she could say she had friends and that she was part of something--something big for the entire human race. Well, if it worked.

  We waited while Jim paced the floor. I read everything I could on the Internet about lacerations and puncture wounds and amputations.

  "God I hope they can save her finger." I cried.

  Tabitha was the only one of us who stayed completely calm. It was from years of being in very dangerous situations, I'm sure.

  At some point Johnny disappeared for a while and he returned with soft drinks for everyone and a box of chicken fingers. There's a little place about three or four blocks from the hospital that makes the best chicken fingers. We ate quietly. Johnny looked at his watch and told me that he had to go pick up his kids from baseball camp and his wife from work. Since he had been laid-off, they only had the one car. We were in my SUV, so someone had to take him back to the office. Jim was in no shape to drive and Tabitha didn't know the town well enough. So I had to leave. The thought of that killed me. Johnny didn't want to leave either, but we understood it had to be done.

  So I took him back to the office and his car. "I'll get to work cleaning that lab up tomorrow boss," he said.

  "No! Do not touch anything in there until I figure out what happened. Okay?"

  He nodded and rolled up his driver's side window as he departed.

  I woke up sometime around midnight with Tabitha nudging me. Sleeping sitting up in a hospital waiting room chair is no good for a person's neck--I'll testify to that in any court.

  "What is it?" I stretched and yawned.

  "Here comes the doctor." Tabitha pointed down the hall. Jim was already on his feet and Sara had joined us at some point.

  "The surgery went well and she's resting now," I could hear him telling Jim as we approached. "We reattached the finger and there doesn't appear to be any complications. It will take some physical therapy but she should regain full use of her arm and hand."

  "That's great, Doc!" I cried. No, I mean it. I cried.

  "Anything else, Doc?" Jim asked.

  "I've never seen that much glass in an injury before. Were it not for the new MRI we got a few months back we might not have found it all. There may still be microscopic fragments in there that will surface over time. I don't think she will need other surgeries, though. If we can keep the skin from coagulating and keep good blood flow to her hand, we might not even need cosmetic work. It's much too early to tell about that yet."

  "Can we see her?" Tabitha asked.

  "Go home and get some sleep folks. She'll be out until tomorrow."

  Jim looked at me, "You go home. I'm staying. Just bring me some clothes tomorrow."

  The doctor looked up at that. "No. She is in the intensive care ward tonight and cannot have overnight visitors. All of you go home."

  "Doc, there ain't no way in hell that we're leaving her here alone tonight!" I looked him square in the eyes so he could tell I was dead serious.

  He sighed. "I figured as much. I'll get the nurse to show you to the ICU waiting area." He left shaking his head but with a smile on his face.

  "Okay Jim, Sara is going to take you home while I wait here for a while. You can drop Tabitha off at the office to get her car. Get some things and come back. Then I'll go home and take a nap. I'll be back here bright and early. How is that for a plan?"

  Tabitha looked at me with fire in her eyes. "Well, first off, I'm staying for now. I'll leave with you later."

  I left it at that. Jim went home. Tabitha and I found the ICU waiting room and got checked in as her "Parents." Once we finally got into 'Becca's room I nearly lost it. Tears welled up and I choked them back.

  "I'm so sorry 'Becca." I touched her good hand and rubbed her cheek. Tabitha looked at me with puppy-dog eyes. I didn't know she had those. Death-ray eyes, sure. Fire-and-brimstone eyes, sure. But not puppy-dog eyes.

  "She'll be fine, Anson."

  "I should have known whatever happened was going to happen. Have you ever heard of a nanomachine construction accident?"

  "Maybe it was something you couldn't have known about. What if there was a flaw in the chamber materials or seals?"

  "Not likely. We paid a lot of money to make sure it didn't have any flaws."

  "It isn't your fault. Accidents happen." This time she touched 'Becca's face. The two of them had bonded considerably in the short few months they had known each other.

  "Maybe it's because I don't have kids of my own or I'm not married, but she and Jim are like kids to me. Like my kids. Sure, I would've had to have them when I was fourteen but that's possible. That's about how old people were when they had kids around here a hundred years ago. Hell, it still happens." I was blabbering. I'm not sure if it was because it was late or because I was so upset. Tabitha seemed to think it was cute. She said as much.

  "What about you? Why don't you have kids?" I asked her.

  "I do. I have a daughter, Anne Marie Ames. She will be starting college this fall on an Air Force scholarship." She smiled at me as she laid this on me. I was absolutely stunned.

  "Are you married or were you?"

  "No, I've never been married, Anson. I was planning on getting married but her father was killed in a car accident before I ever knew I was pregnant. He was such a good man, a Marine jump jet pilot. He taught me everything I know about flying Harriers." She paused for a brief second. "My parents helped me raise her when it got tough on me. She made it easy though. She's a great kid."

  "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry so much." I felt even sadder than before.

  "No, really, it's okay. I came to terms with that grief twenty years ago. Besides it always cheers me up to think about Annie."

  "Well, okay then, how did you manage the Air Force as a single mom?" I had never heard of such.

  "That part was simple. I wasn't in the Air Force yet. I was on scholarship, so they had to honor it provided I kept my grades up. I made a point to be on the dean's list every semester." Tabitha's pride shone through the grief for a moment and she smiled.

  "You are an amazing woman Tabitha. I barely made good enough grades to keep from getting kicked out of school." I laughed at that.

  "Yeah, you and Einstein and Edison and countless others," she goaded.

  "No comparison. They had cultural and physical things to deal with. Me, I just like to drink beer," I replied.

  "And how has that worked out for you?" she laughed.

  "Not too bad!" I guffawed, snorted, and hee-hawed as only a real Southern nerd can.

  "Hey, will you guys hold it down--I have a headache!" Rebecca whispered lightly.

  "'Becca, honey how do you feel?" Tabitha grabbed her
right hand, careful of the I.V. needle in her wrist.

  "My arm hurts bad," she said quietly.

  "I'll take care of it." I kissed her on the forehead and went to the nurse's station for help. The nurse showed her how to use the painkiller button and then told us to let her sleep or "get out!"

  As soon as the nurse left, 'Becca opened her eyes. "Thanks." She began crying.

  "What is it? Are you still hurting?" Tabitha asked.

  "My finger?" she asked, tears streaking her cheeks.

  "Don't worry. They got all the parts back in the right places. The doctors don't even think you'll have any scars. They may do some laser treatment stuff in a few months or so," I told her.

  The nurse and Jim returned. The nurse told us that only two visitors at a time could stay. Since Jim was her "husband" he should get to stay. I winked at Jim and kissed 'Becca goodbye.

  "We'll see you tomorrow. Get better." We waved on our way out.

  We left the hospital feeling a little better that 'Becca had come around. I still felt responsible for whatever it was that had happened. I was so zoned out I drove right past the turn for the office, reflexively driving home. Tabitha tapped me on the arm.

  "Anson?"

  "I know. I missed the turn," I looked over at her.

  "Not that. I don't want to go back to that apartment and all of those boxes right now."

  "Do you want to come over to my place? I've got plenty of room."

  "Yes."

  CHAPTER 6

  It had taken months for us to figure out what had happened. Rebecca had nearly completely healed by September. She had a laser treatment to do in another month and her ring finger was still in a splint, but other than that she was nearly back to normal. She had even started light karate workouts with kicks and some aerobics and been on her road bike some. There had been setbacks though. Her allergies had started acting up on her while she was recovering. The congestion led to sinusitus, which then led to bronchitis. She has continued to have a nagging cough and a bit of a wheeze, but she is getting there.

  She recollected that she had been standing at the computer watching the seven hundredth Clemons Dumbbell (as she and Jim had started calling them) being constructed. Her left hand was in the vacuum chamber glove and she was adding materials to the new process. She recalled a flash of light and then everything exploded in front of her. That is all she could remember.

  Jim, 'Becca, and I had tried and tried to piece the accident together, but were getting nowhere. No one could remember enough for the accident to make any sense at all. We decided to take a mental break and put in some physical playtime that Saturday. Jim and I were discussing her recollection of the accident on our way up to the mountain bike trailhead at Monte Sano State Park. Mountain biking is one of the coolest things. It requires endurance, strength, balance, and lots of nerve. Jim had turned me onto it a few years back and I was hooked. 'Becca usually goes with us and wears us out, but she was still on the "injured reserve" list. As I was putting on my shoes he asked me about the flash of light.

  "I can't understand what the flash of light was. Could we have tapped into some fundamental force of the fabric of spacetime?" he asked.

  "Before we get all hocus-pocus let's rule out standard stuff first," I warned. "There were some big pieces of plexiglass and one piece of aluminum that slammed into her body pretty hard. It's not unbelievable that one of them hit her in the head. You've had your noodle knocked around before. You know that flashes of light aren't uncommon with that." I was still grasping for straws. You know what they say about drowning men.

  "You ready?" He hopped on his bike as he asked.

  Click! Click! I popped my cleats into the pedals and stood up on the bike hopping it slightly off the ground three or four times.

  "Last one to the switchback buys the first pitcher!" I started hammering up to the trailhead in about gear two-three (eleventh gear) getting the jump on Jim. He pedaled up beside me not even breathing hard yet.

  "You cheat, old man!"

  "I'll show you old!" I cranked my right shifter down changing to about seven so I was in fifteenth gear. Then I moved my posterior further back on the saddle so I could push the pedals through and over the top of the stroke. Once I got rolling good, I cranked up to three on the left shifter and up to two on the right one. Now I was in eighteenth gear and in my hill-climbing stroke. My legs are stronger than Jim's, so I knew I could take him on the hill. The trek up the mountain to the switchback trailhead is a good couple of miles at a grade of at least forty-five degrees. A good warm-up.

  By the time I got to the switchback at the top of the mountain I was at least fifty yards ahead of Jim. I dropped back down a couple of gears and stood up and dropped my center of gravity back as far behind the saddle as I could and dove straight down the switchback trail. The switchbacks are about every forty yards or so on that particular trail and they're very steep. The worst part is that there are trees and stair steps all across and down the trail. I don't recommend it for beginners. The first time I tried it I had my center of gravity too far forward and did an "endo" right over the handlebars. Had I not known how to fall from years of being thrown in karate, I would've been seriously injured.

  The trail was much too technical and tricky for me to look back and see where Jim was. I turned a switchback and then I caught a glimpse of him. To make up time he'd decided to forgo the switchback, bunny hopped his bike off the trail, and turned head first down the mountain at ninety degrees to the switchback. His body was way behind the saddle and he was screaming.

  "Let's go, you old fart!" he yelled as he tore down the mountain, blazing his own trail.

  "Now who's cheatin'?" I yelled just as I did a left foot plant and locked the back break, swinging my bike around counterclockwise at the last switchback. I entered the main trail crossroads by the big marker boulder just behind Jim.

  Jim hopped his bike up on the boulder and held it up on just the back tire. Then he dropped down and hopped up on the front tire. He did a three-sixty off the rock and landed pointing in the right direction and never missed a pedal stroke.

  "Show-off!" I said. Jim used to do bike trial tournaments where they would hop over cars and waterfalls and you name it. He has a picture of himself hopping his bike on its front tire in the scoop of a bulldozer while he's giving a peace sign with his right hand. Like I said, he's a show-off.

  We raced down the logging road for a while and cut to the left, and down the "screamin' downhill-between-the-benches" we had to have hit thirty miles per hour. An "endo" here at that speed wouldn't be fun. We leapfrogged each other back and forth through the rocky "whoops" and I took him on the "crazy-uphill-by-the-tree." When the trail opened back up to the logging road we were dead even. Jim bunny hopped the big oak tree across the road by nearly a foot! I had to pop my front tire up and dig my big front chain ring (that's a sprocket to you hairy-legged non-bikers) into the tree and then grind up and over the tree until my back tire caught it. I almost went over the handlebars from not keeping the front tire up high enough when I hit the ground on the other side of the tree. Somehow, I managed to stay upright.

  "Thank God for gyroscopic motion. Amen, brother!" I muttered to myself and the squirrel that ran across the trail in front of me.

  Finally, after about six miles we were up the last hill and back to the boulder.

  Jim cried out, "One more lap!" and kept on going.

  I plowed in behind him holding my own. I looked at my heart rate monitor readout on my handlebars: one hundred eighty three beats per minute! That is about ninety percent my max and I had kept it there for about thirty minutes so far. Not bad for an old man. This time around he dropped me on the big oak. I didn't have enough left even to do a chain ring grind over it. I had to hop off my bike and climb over it dragging my bike along with me. Jim was waiting on me back at the boulder.

  "What happened, old man?" he laughed.

  "Whew!" I panted. "I got hung up on the tree again. One of these da
ys you have to show me how to get over that thing. By the way, you know you're not but about fourteen years younger than me."

  I laid my bike off the trail with the deraileur side up, which is proper bike etiquette. My legs felt like lead. I sat down on the boulder sucking on the tube in front of my face, which came up out of my jersey around to my back and into the water bag in my back jersey pocket. I felt my rear middle jersey pocket to make sure there was still plenty of water. I'd finished about a fourth of a liter, not enough.

  "I was thinking," I said still breathing hard, "about the light 'Becca saw."

  "Yeah?" Jim took his helmet off and handed me an energy bar.

  "What if it was like sonoluminescence?"

  "How, there was nothing in that vacuum chamber but vacuum?" Jim asked.

  "When we get back to the lab Monday remind me to make you work out on the board how many different molecules are actually in that vacuum chamber, at least fifty times. Where did you get your Ph.D. anyway?" I scolded him.

  "Okay, sure it's not a perfect vacuum, but how could there have been enough molecules in there to luminesce?" he asked.

  "Just like sonoluminescence. With that you have a bunch of sound waves pressing a tiny amount of water and other additives into such a small ball that it gets it as hot as the sun for a microsecond or so. Hence, the little flashes of light. What if the dumbbells set up some kind of crazy electromagnetic field configuration that trapped enough of the particles from the vacuum chamber into a small enough ball that the same type of thing happened? Maybe the flash of light didn't cause the explosion but was a symptom of a bigger problem."

  "You thought of all that while we were racing? No wonder you couldn't get over the tree. And those chain ring grinds are hell on your big chain ring by the way. I wish you would quit doing that, because I'm always the one who has to put the new one on." He paused for a second and shook his head. "You are focused, just not on riding," Jim said.