Grow Up

by Craig Anderson

  Frag took a long time to process everything. Then he thought, I see no obvious flaw in this logic, and it explains several recent events. If this is indeed true, we must inform High Command immediately.

  “We have no proof. It is our word against their most trusted advisor. If we tell them, they will confront him, and we will lose our only advantage.”

  Which is what?

  “He doesn’t know that we know. We can use that.”

  We could tell Shift? She would believe us.

  Josh paused at that one. He wanted to trust her, and was almost certain that he could, but at the end of the day she worked for High Command. The chances of her not telling her bosses was low to none.

  “We can’t. We have to do this on our own, but this opens up a whole new field of options. We just have to solve Problem number 1—not dying in the first 3 seconds.”

  Then let us solve Problem number 1.

  ***

  Miss Featherbottom was starting to be rather concerned. She said, “Please put your hand down, Mr. Harper, I’m sure someone else might like to ask a question.”

  Gargle glanced around the room and saw that this statement was incorrect. He raised his hand again, and with a weary sigh the economics teacher said, “What is it now?”

  “I require clarification. I don’t see how financial compensation is tied in to societal benefit.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “I mean, how do you determine the benefit to society that a particular person creates? I see no calculations in the textbook.”

  Miss Featherbottom nervously twisted the beads that were hanging around her neck. They had warned her about students like this in teacher school, the kind that would drag a simple lesson down into an ethical minefield. Avoid politics and religion, that was the mantra they had drilled into her.

  She could do this, she just had to remember her training. “Well, Mr. Harper, while that is an interesting concept, unfortunately measuring something such as societal benefit would be next to impossible to do in reality, with such a wide range of unquantifiable variables to consider.”

  Gargle scribbled something in a notebook. “Let’s pretend that was true. If you don’t have that, how do you determine what to pay someone?”

  “The market decides.”

  “I see. Is the market an intelligent entity?”

  The teacher took a deep breath. She was losing control, but she could still bring it back. “Some would argue that the market does not behave rationally, for example, a football player earning millions of pounds, while a nurse who saves people’s lives barely earns minimum wage. However, if you recall our lesson on supply and demand last month, it is a question of how hard it is to find a particular skillset. Scarcity increases the value of something.”

  “Most interesting, so the harder it is to find a skill, the more money you can get paid for having it?”

  “Exactly. Very succinctly put, Mr. Harper. Everyone make a note of that incase it comes up on your exam.” She squeezed the bead a little harder than necessary and said, “Are there any more questions? If not I can let you go five minutes early.”

  Gargle’s hand shot up, and the whole classroom groaned in unison.

  Level 20: Money Talks

  Gargle regarded the circular time device on the wall. It was almost noon. He had spent the last hour in the library, reviewing a wide variety of materials inspired by his economics lesson.

  Top of the list was the theory of negotiation, which was fascinating. On this planet, the price was not pre-determined by anything other than what you could convince the other party to pay for it, and as such there was an entire subset of skills one could learn to help them increase that number. It was far outside his usual area of expertise, but he had done his best to formulate a mathematical approach to the problem that also included elements of something called psychology.

  Gargle retraced his steps back to Mr. Tucker’s office. He found the door slightly open and a new man standing in the doorway. He fidgeted, his hands constantly in motion. He pushed his thick-rimmed glasses up his nose and stared at Gargle quizzically. After a long silence he held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, I am Professor Jasper.”

  He shook it, being sure to apply adequate pressure. The negotiation book had been very clear on that. “Hello. I’m Josh.”

  “Tom has told me a lot about you.”

  “Tom?”

  “Sorry, Mr. Tucker. I have never seen him so excited about a student before.”

  Mr. Tucker appeared from around the doorway. “Thank you, Jasper. Shall we get started?” He also seemed jumpy; he could barely contain his excitement. It was certainly more enthusiasm than Gargle had seen him display in class.

  Jasper revealed a long cardboard tube and popped the top off. He pulled out a large sheet of paper that was covered in tiny numbers. He said, “I apologize for the format, but there was no easier way to bring along this much data and I’m not able to share it electronically for security reasons. The project I am currently working on has the potential to dramatically change the world, but we are stuck at this initial stage. I believe what we are trying to achieve is theoretically possible, but the formula continues to fail. I have reviewed it thousands of times and have been unable to find the flaw in my logic.”

  Gargle leaned in and regarded it. Now this was his kind of maths. He scanned his finger down the page at an astonishing speed, following along with the calculation in his head. As he got to the end he said, “Interesting. You are phasing between two different dimensions?”

  “What? How do you know that?” Jasper caught himself. “What I mean is, I’m not at liberty to discuss the details of the experiment.”

  “It is a fairly simple deduction, this area of the formula deals with the difference in fidelity between the two dimensions.”

  Jasper glanced at Mr. Tucker before addressing Gargle. “Obviously this is all just theoretical.”

  It was Gargle’s turn to catch himself. He had to remind himself that he wasn’t fully briefed on the technological status of this planet. Based on this formula they at least had a rudimentary grasp of the basics of inter-dimensional travel, but he didn’t want to say too much in case he accidentally gave something away. These creatures couldn’t yet travel great distances through space, but with a better grasp of this technology that would be increasingly possible, and who knew what kind of havoc they would wreak then. Still, a small nudge wouldn’t do any real harm, they were basically there anyway, it was just a bit messy. It wasn’t entirely their fault; they hadn’t perfected maths yet. They were trying to perform a delicate surgery with a chainsaw—the patient might survive, but they weren’t going to like the side effects. He could help them to sharpen their tools, if only a little.

  Professor Jasper mistook his expression for concern. “It is ok if this is too much for you, we have some of the best theoretical physicists in the world working on this and they are just as stumped as I am. I wish I could leave you this copy, but this cannot leave my possession. If it would help I can return again, as many times as you might need to begin to comprehend the herculean effort required to…”

  Gargle reached out and grabbed a red pencil from a large pile on Mr. Tucker’s desk. He smiled as he turned the piece of paper over. He wrote out six lines of formula before sliding the paper across towards the Professor.

  Jasper stopped mid-sentence and said, “What is that?”

  “The first half of the formula you need. It is basically the same as the one you already had, I just made it a little more efficient.”

  Jasper reviewed the formula, his finger held up, ready to point out the problems. Then he read the formula again, and again. Slowly his finger lowered itself, in conjunction with his jaw doing the same. After a long inhalation he said, “It’s…beautiful. How is this possible? You’ve barely been here five minutes!”

  “I know. I am sorry it took so long, I was distracted.” Gargle carefully placed the pencil back on the pile.<
br />
  “You said this is the first half? Where is the rest of it?”

  “Yes, about that.” Gargle concentrated, keeping his expression neutral. He had proven the value of his offer, now he just needed to anchor in a price point. “I shall provide the second half for £100,000.”

  Professor Jasper and Mr. Tucker both stared at him in disbelief. Mr. Tucker spoke first. “Mr. Harper, I told Professor Jasper that you may be able to help him as a fellow intellectual, I did not intend for this to be a business transaction.”

  “Of course, 10% of that money shall be given to Mr. Tucker, as a commission for introducing us.”

  Mr. Tucker’s jaw fell open, then he regained his composure. He turned to Professor Jasper. “The lad has a point, sounds like you’ve already spent a lot of money trying to solve this problem, the answer must be worth something.”

  Professor Jasper found himself suddenly outnumbered. “Something perhaps, but £100,000 is outrageous. My employer would never authorize that kind of expense.”

  “Well in that case I suppose you shall continue to spend months and months of wasted time and effort to try and solve this on your own. I can say with certainty that based on the formula you showed me, you are at least 18 months away from solving it, and that includes the 12 months of time I just saved you cleaning up the first half.”

  Professor Jasper had a terrible poker face. The thought of spending another 18 months staring at the same equation, looking for a solution that had so far eluded him, was not filling him with happy thoughts. It did however, pose a quandary. Jasper had seen how angry his employer could be when he didn’t get what he wanted, and if he knew that a solution was available right now, that made Josh a potential target for his anger. That wasn’t something he would wish upon anyone, let alone a school kid. Unfortunately Jasper didn’t have a spare £100k lying around either. “I have a counter offer. How about £10k?”

  Gargle had been expecting that; the website had told him to expect a considerably lower counter-proposal. He applied his formula, “£75k, and not a penny less.”

  “I don’t have that kind of money,” Jasper pleaded.

  “I am sure your employer does. If you are doing what I believe you are, the equipment alone would cost in the hundreds of millions.”

  Jasper was in dangerous territory. He couldn’t afford for the kid to keep guessing what he was up to; if he got too close that would be a problem for everyone. He pulled out his phone and checked his savings account. “£16,127, half now and half when I confirm that the formula works, on the condition that you cannot tell a soul where the money came from. That is for both of our protection. I’m afraid that is quite honestly the best I can do.” It hurt a little to offer it, but if this formula worked he’d never have to worry about money again. It was worth the risk.

  Gargle peered at the Professor’s face. It was hard to tell if he was serious about this being his final offer, but it certainly appeared as if he was. It wasn’t enough to solve his financial situation forever, but it was a decent start for five minutes of work. Who knows, it might even lead to more work from Professor Jasper.

  Gargle held out his hand. “We have a deal. Please wire the money to this account, minus Tom’s fee of course. Also, if possible, I would like £100 in cash, to pay back some large and angry classmates.” He held out Josh’s communicator with the online banking app open. He didn’t know the password, but his thumbprint was enough to get him in.

  Professor Jasper rummaged in his pocket and pulled out a faded leather wallet. He opened it and stared inside. “I’m sorry, I don’t carry that kind of cash on me. I can do £15?”

  Mr. Tucker pulled out his own wallet, and removed a thick stack of pound notes from it. He counted out £100 in crisp twenties and slid it over the table to Gargle. Professor Jasper said, “What on earth are you doing with that kind of money on you, Tom?”

  “I don’t ask you about your side projects, Jasper, don’t ask me about mine.”

  “Understood.”

  Professor Jasper did something on his own communicator, and then said, “Ok, I have sent the first half of the payment, minus the £100 from Mr. Tucker.” He showed the confirmation to Gargle. “Now if you would be so kind as to complete the formula.”

  Gargle picked up the same red pen and scrawled out six more lines. He flipped the paper round and Professor Jasper read it before clutching it to his chest. “Of course! How did I not see that?”

  “You had made it too complicated. Once you remove the superfluous portions, the answer becomes much clearer.”

  Jasper slipped the note in his pocket. “This has been a most productive meeting, even if it cost me a small fortune. Thank you, Josh.”

  Gargle nodded and skipped from the room, happy to have made a practical start on the lessons from Economics.

  When he was certain the coast was clear, Professor Jasper closed the door of the office. “What the hell was that, Tom, a shakedown?”

  “Honestly I had no idea. How was I supposed to know he’d suddenly go all mercenary. You know kids these days, it’s all me, me, me. Did you at least get what you needed?”

  “You’d better bloody hope so, or you’ll be paying me back every penny.”

  Tom laughed nervously. “I’m sure it will be perfect, young Josh has been nothing short of astounding recently.”

  “Indeed. I am surprised you haven’t mentioned him sooner, you knew I was struggling with this problem.”

  “Well that’s the strange part, up until a couple of days ago, he acted like every other idiot teen in my class. I could barely get him to write his name on the practice exam, let alone flawlessly answer every question in his head.”

  “Interesting. There’s been a lot of strange happenings lately, I doubt this is the last one we’ll see. Just keep an eye on him. Someone with that kind of ability could attract the wrong kind of attention.”

  “Oh Jasper, you and your conspiracy theories. Who do you think would take him, werewolves? Bigfoot? Aliens perhaps?”

  “You laugh now, Tom, but you haven’t seen the things that I have. One day you’ll wish you’d listened. Are you sure he’ll be discreet?”

  “Josh? Usually I can’t get two words out of him. He won’t say anything, and even if he did, who’s going to believe it?”

  “Well let’s hope for both our sakes that you are right.” Jasper stood up abruptly. “I’d love to stay and chat, but I must get back to the office to test this formula out.”

  “Make sure you don’t forget the second payment when it works,” Mr. Tucker said with a chuckle.

  “I’m sure you’ll remind me if I do,” Jasper retorted, before adding, “always a pleasure, Tom.”

  “Likewise, Jasper.”

  As Jasper walked away, Mr. Tucker kicked back in his chair and smiled. That had worked out splendidly.

  ***

  Josh watched his mech explode in a fiery inferno for the umpteenth time. He’d stopped counting a long time ago; all he knew was that as the trial countdown reached zero he had approximately half a second to get to somewhere else before the ground he was standing on became molten lava.

  He’d eventually worked his way back down the list of mechs until he had landed on his trusty Ticket Buster. Right now they were focusing on an all-laser turret build for the Behemoth, to get a feel for the targeting and reload times.

  The heavier weaponry improved his survival time in the Ticket Buster, but only because they took longer to reload and fire. His best attempt so far was almost 8 seconds. He’d dodged the first volley purely by accident, but couldn’t move quick enough to outrun the second.

  This loadout is unrealistic. The CORPS and weight of all those laser cannons is astronomical. The G.C. will equip a variety of weapons, to give them more attack options.

  “Probably, but we need to be able to dodge the laser cannons first as they can kill us with one hit. Once we figure that out we can layer in some other weapons.”

  That is precisely the problem. We c
annot dodge so many turrets, there is too much laser fire. Even if we could, the Ticket Buster is unable to equip a weapon that can damage the Behemoth.

  “Good point!” Josh said, kicking himself that he hadn’t thought of it. What good was it if he couldn’t even hurt the enemy, because they were so large. He’d gotten so caught up in surviving that he hadn’t even thought about winning.

  Something tickled at the back of his mind. He strained, trying to picture it.

  Frag thought, What are you doing?

  “I’m trying to remember something. I feel like it’s important. Maybe I wrote it down?”

  Josh flipped through his notebook, but most of the words were crossed out. He was about to give up when he got to the page that simply said:

  GUERILLA WARFARE - FIGHT BIGGER BAD GUYS

  It all came flooding back and he fist-pumped the air. “What are the odds of that, Old Man Murray taught me something useful!”

  I do not understand.

  “You will. Let me try something.” Josh hopped into the menu screen and unequipped every weapon from his Ticket Buster. He started up a fresh fight.

  I do not believe you have understood the point of my concern. Now you have literally no ability to inflict damage.

  “Hold on a second.”

  The timer reached zero and Josh boosted as hard as he could to the left. He barely escaped the initial volley of laser fire, and then there was a brief reprieve while they recharged. The simulation then changed tactics, firing the turrets one at a time, giving no break between the laser fire. Josh managed to dodge several more blasts, until one clipped him as he was about to double jump. It killed him instantly.

  “Awesome!”

  How so? We died.

  “That was a new record! How long did we survive?”

  Just under 12 seconds. Hooray. Frag hadn’t learned sarcasm yet, but his mental tone was positively dripping with irony. Josh was starting to rub off on him.