Mindy shrugged, flattening the hem of her too-short skirt, and shimmied closer to Singh. She'd been all over him since she'd learned he was Angela's ex. "He startled me. I expected the other stuff."
"I promise to get to the other stuff soon enough. First, we need the big setup." Singh chuckled, staring at Angela. He'd called her the day before, promising an exclusive into a revolutionary new technology. She knew his track record, so she'd refused. It took four more calls and a lot of begging to get her to say yes. She'd already regretted her decision.
"As I remember, you never were very good at the big setup?" She sneered, folding her arms over her chest.
His smile strobed, vanishing and reappearing so quickly even her recorder might have missed it, but Angela hadn't.
"That's a bit catty." Mindy batted her fake eyelashes. When this was over, the girl could get her own stories. So much for doing favors.
"As I was saying..." Singh rubbed his hands together as if anticipating his future fortune. "A little demonstration to set the stage."
He'd changed quite a bit in the years since they'd separated. The lanky nerd was gone, replaced by a smooth showman with the dark wavy hair and good looks of a Bollywood actor. The one room workshop with the sputtering overhead fluorescents and drafty tin walls had become a sprawling cement and steel structure, and a long glass window separated them from what looked like a medieval torture chamber.
"So, it's true?" Angela tapped the recorder, flipping it in Singh's direction. "You finally came up with something practical?"
"Not just practical." He leaned in. His breath smelled like licorice. "World changing."
He pointed to a digital clock, its oversized red digits counting down. When the timer reached ten, Singh slid the swatch into a nearby Lucite cube.
"Observe."
The countdown reached zero. The cloth exploded. It shredded as if an invisible bullet had gone through it. It burst into flame, dissolved, sliced, diced, and unraveled, leaving flaps of fabric to hang against the frame like dead skin.
Mindy squealed, wrapping herself like a snake around Mahmut's arm. He laughed.
"That's it?" Angela stared at the swatch, unimpressed. "I don't get it."
"That was the setup. We treated that fabric an hour ago. Then we subsequently subjected it to intense flame, gunshots, acid, explosions from chemical weapons, massive laser bombardment, and even a wide selection of vicious serrated blades..."
"And the pencil." Mindy offered.
"Yes, and the pencil." Singh handed Angela the box. "But it appeared pristine and indestructible until time ran out."
Angela handed the cube back. "How's it work?"
"The process uses quantum entanglement. It shunts all exterior stimuli reaching the event horizon sixty minutes into the future. All that bad stuff happened, but it didn't actually reach the fabric for an hour. Neat, huh?"
Singh snapped his fingers. A tall muscular man wearing a blue jumpsuit marched over and exchanged the cube for a fluorescent orange cloth. "Now for the main event, the big coverup as I like to call it."
He slid the garment on over his clothes. Angela surveyed the bulky suit, noticing the footies and mittens. Singh pirouetted to give her a better look.
"You still haven't changed, have you, Mahmut?" Angela kept her rig recording. Mindy was busy staring at the man who'd brought over the suit, her tongue darting in and out like a snake.
"Did you expect I would?"
She laughed. He smiled, and for a moment she could see the man he'd once been, not the cocky showoff inventor he'd become. There'd been some good times. Things hadn't gotten rocky until Mahmut started working for the government, keeping secrets, his personality morphing into something sleek and oily.
"It's not such a bad thing, I guess."
"Good." He leaned in, his voice a whisper. "Have dinner with me."
Angela glanced away, her face hot. "Maybe."
"What are you going to do?" Mindy wiggled close, standing between them.
"Defy death, of course." Singh swung around, marching to the low platform directly in front of the long window holding the bizarre collection of torture devices. His booties squelched, and the oversized fabric-coated zipper swung like a carroty pendulum as he spun.
Angela felt a hollow lump in her stomach. "You're not going in there?"
"Keep recording..."
Singh entered the chamber.
"Just watch. Feel free to clap, but keep recording. This is my first live test." His voice came through speakers on either end of the window as he cranked the zipper up and over his head, looking like a squeezed orange. He flipped a switch, and the suit went rigid.
Machinery squealed. Mindy turned away, but Angela couldn't as a gigantic rotating saw raked across Singh's chest, followed by several axe-like blades that hammered his torso.
"Still feeling fine..." Singh chuckled. Flame erupted through the chamber, licking up the arms of the suit as accelerant drizzled overhead.
The blinding violet flash of a laser welder spotted the orange fabric, probing the head and upper body as large caliber machine guns hammered the extremities with an ear-splitting hail of bullets.
Angela's heart pounded as the violence intensified, punctuated by Singh monologing on his good fortune. He even broke into song at one point, belting out a classic oldie while boiling Fluoroantimonic Acid drenched the entire suit.
Finally, after nearly fifty minutes of nonstop and ever-escalating abuse, the chamber stilled. The suit relaxed, and Singh waddled out as if nothing had happened.
"Was that awesome, or what?" He smiled as he pulled down the hood.
"What?" Angela's ears were still ringing from the noise.
Singh laughed. "You know; I miss that humor. I miss you."
She almost said it back. The bad times seemed far away. The playful nerd was still there somewhere under the flash and polish, and it might be worth giving him a chance.
"Now what?" She closed her rig, handing the hardware to Mindy. Mindy pouted. Even she could tell when she'd missed an opportunity.
"Let's get out of here." Singh grabbed her hand. "We'll start over."
"Wait!" Angela yanked her hand away. She didn't just want to jump back into something, and she wasn't sure where she wanted this to go. "Why don't we... hey, you forgot something."
Singh looked confused.
"The suit."
"Oops..." Singh pulled at the collar. The zipper stopped a few inches down. He pulled harder, but it didn't budge. He squirmed and fought. His smile faded, becoming a grimace as Angela struggled to help him out of the suit. His panicked gaze flickered from Angela to the clock counting the last few seconds, his brown eyes large and moist.
"It's stuck!"
THE END
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