Great undertakings came as the days passed, one after another. And although a great deal of temporary building was accomplished in the underground, the most critical schedules began to fall short. During this time—an excruciating length to the Five—all effort and resources had been directed toward the completion of Jacob’s workshops. These facilities were necessary components in the boy’s first, fundamental creation—the one invention absolute to the success of the entire project: his EMR (Energy-Matter Redistribution) device.
Great debate had been exchanged between the Five in bringing this anachronism, this incongruity, alive far ahead of its day—perhaps even centuries ahead. But without this unimaginable process—this most prohibited of any creation yet conceived by the boy—HOPE, and all that would sustain her, would be reduced from the realm of reality to mere dreams. There could be no funds, for there could be no gold to be serendipitously discovered in The Falling Rock. There could be no mechanical robot workers to build the underground complex and all the equipment and technology necessary to sustain the secret project. But the most condemning consequence of all—the one which had pushed the balance and finally ended the debate—was the fact that there could be no HOPE, and therefore nothing to reverse the Five’s stolen technology. The world, left to a technology beyond their time, would unleash war upon itself until all life was consumed. Given this unthinkable prospect, Jacob was granted permission to proceed. His anticipated, and feared EMR device would be built. . . and at best speed.
Besides the lab and work areas, a temporary housing complex was also completed and put into full service. It wasn’t a five-star hotel, but it would suffice until the time of transformation—when the underground’s working force of mechanical engineers would morph the darkened vaults, the connecting tunnels and the capacious domes from sand and salt into a technological wonder never before conceived.
None of the Five questioned Jacob’s ability to succeed. They had seen his designs and understood where he was going. But they did not expect that it would take so long to produce—Jacob simply didn’t do slow. But this had been the task of his lifetime, and when the day finally came for the demonstration of the new EMR prototype, none of the team really understood, nor comprehended, until that first test, what they had actually allowed to be forged into the world of humankind.
“Zen. Will you do the honors?” Jacob asked, as the rest of the group stood aloof, all anxiously watching. “Every one of our droid workers will be equipped with these babies.” He handed Zen an odd-looking device which was meant to attach at the wrist and hand. An umbilical cable connected the hand-unit to a power source that strapped, like a small back-pack, to Zen’s shoulders.
Zen began to fiddle with the device, trying to follow Jacob’s instructions. The boy kept jabbering out words so quickly that Zen could hardly keep up.
“No. You’re doing it wrong,” Jacob corrected. “Like this.”
“Sorry, Jake. I’m just nervous.”
“Nerves should not supersede process control of the brain.”
Zen grunted back, then finally managed to attach the unit comfortably to his hand.
Jacob flipped the power switch to the on position. A sudden burp of light, much like a flashbulb, pulsed outward and then faded to a luminous glow like a soft, subtle metallic shimmer.
Zen immediately threw out his arm and covered his eyes and Gracie let out a screech.
“You two!” exclaimed Jacob. It’s alright,” he eased. “The onboard processor is adjusting to the form of your arm, Zen. The device is changing its shape, and must either expel energy in a exothermic release of photons—which is what you just witnessed—or it must absorb energy, endothermic. Which it will do via this umbilical attachment as needed.” Jacob tapped a petulant finger on the backpack, and leveled a frustrated, wide-eyed gawk at the two of them.
“Jake, you’re throwing all these surprises at me!” Zen stammered, his heart still racing. “Just give me some warning next time.”
Jacob sighed. “Alright, Alright.”
Once the device had formed and latched suitably, it felt surprisingly light, yet firm and secure.
“There. Like that.” Jacob continued. “See. Not so bad after all, huh? This is of course a scaled down version, about one-third the size of those that will be equipped on the worker droids.”
“Wait a minute!” Gracie suddenly squawked out, stepping quickly forward. “I’m just . . . well if anything goes wrong with this thing—not that I don’t have full faith in you, Jacob,” she said leaning in, “But I want to be right here next to my husband when he,” she swallowed, “turns it on.”
“It’s not a bomb, Gracie,” Jacob stated exasperatingly.
“I know that. But I’ve seen some of your other, non-lethal,” she emphasized, “devices, and as impressive as they all are, several have gone,”—she hesitated—“well, rather badly.”
“You mean exploded,” put in Eli.
Jacob’s scowl caught Eli between the eyes.
“Those were basically toys, Gracie,” Jacob defended. “This is for HOPE.”
Gracie smiled, then warmed. “Of course, Jacob. I’m sorry to be such a baby. You are right.” She whirled and took several confident steps, then paused. “Um . . . but can I still stand next to my husband?”
Jacob groaned and Zen burst into a roar. “Oh let her stand with me, Jake.”
Jacob shrugged. “Alright then. I just didn’t want to risk losing you both.”
Gracie’s eyes went wide. She shot him a disgusted glare, and her hands went exasperatingly to her hips.
Jacob laughed and shook his head.
“Not funny!” Gracie stomped.
“Okay. Let’s do this,” said Zen.
“Yes” added Ellen, exasperated. “You’ve got us cooling our heals in the scariest part of the entire grid! I didn’t even know this place was here.”
“Yes. It’s like standing in some ancient Egyptian tomb,” mumbled Gracie, craning her head with cautious eyes. She hugged in closer to her husband.
The walls rose high and shadowy on all sides, intersecting the vaulted background overhead. Only the occasional sparkle of crystalized salt from the dome above, revealed the sheer perspective of the ancient cavern.
“Why did you choose this spot, Jacob? It couldn’t be farther from the lab, and you’ve had to move all this equipment?” Ruthanne asked curiously.
Jacob opened his mouth to reply, but Zen jumped in with a raised hand. “Let me explain, Jacob. I think I understand.”
Jacob nodded. “Please do.”
“This is one of six super-vaults. They will one day—soon we hope—house the most crucial components of HOPE. But because of their size, you’ll remember how overwhelmed we were,” he paused and gazed around for a moment, then smiled with a hint of accomplishment in his expression. “This is the largest of them all, and was therefore presumed to be the most challenging for transformation.” Zen gestured at Jacob. “Until now that is. Jake. Let’s see what this thing can do.”
Jacob nodded excitedly, and moved to his make-shift workstation.
A bank of electronic equipment sat on a mobile set of racks behind him. Next to these were portable tables with monitors, keyboards, and a plethora of other types of technical gear and odd-looking gadgets.
“Okay. I’ve already programmed a design scenario,” said Jacob, flipping switches and powering up his equipment.
“What do you mean by ‘design scenario’?” asked Ruthanne.
“It means that I’ve already sampled each type of element that will be placed into the memory of Zen’s unit. I’m going to use what little mass, other than salt, is lying around in here.”
“I take it there won’t be a place to sit down and rest my feet when you’re finished, then?” said Ellen humorously, glancing at the piles of rock, dirt and miscellaneous junk left over from the construction.
“Oh? You want to be able to sit down? All right. Give me just a second for an adjustment.” Jacob pun
ched a few buttons on his equipment, then entered a series of characters on a flat data-entry device. “What kind of chair would you like to sit in then?” he asked, rather nonchalantly.
Ellen shrugged then grinned wryly. “Okay. What the heck. I’ll play along.” She rested a finger alongside her nose and thought for a moment. “How about an elegant, colonial rocker. With a high back and lifted arms,” she ordered up in a taunting grin. “Oh, and could you bake that in pure gold?” she added, facetiously.
Jacob shrugged casually. “Okay . . . doesn’t sound too soft though.” He paused, adjusted the monitor, moved a few more devices, then continued, “this will be a powerful demonstration.” He grinned, and blew a tuft of bangs from his eyes. “Alright, Zen. You’ll need to aim the sampling-beam at that large pile of rocks. It is the only heap with enough mass to create the type of chair that Ellen has asked for—gold takes so much mass,” he grumbled, glancing at Ellen.
Was he serious? she mentally returned.
“Jake!” Zen shouted. “You’re killing us with anticipation. Can I shoot this thing or what?”
Jacob nodded. “Go ahead. Remember, a sweeping motion up and down.”
Zen took a long breath then swung his arm in a practicing sweep.
Nothing happened.
Zen reached to examine the device more closely. As he did, he inadvertently kept the trigger pulled. Suddenly, his arm accidentally sweep right across Eli. The beam engaged.
“Hey!” cried Eli, jumping instinctively back. “Watch where you’re pointing that thing, Midas!” He glared down at his shirt, half expecting to see his flesh transformed into splotches of gold.
“It’s alright. It can’t hurt you,” reassured Jacob. “The EMR wave is benign on all organic matter. I engineered it that way.”
“I know! I know!” gulped Eli, “but I still don’t like the thing shoved up my nose!”
“Sorry, Eli,” Zen said, a bit embarrassed for his carelessness. “I’ll be more careful.”
“Sheez!” Eli grumbled, stepping well out of the way.
Zen pointed his arm in the opposite direction. “Here goes!” He bit down on his lip in nervous anticipation. He slowly applied pressure to the triggering mechanism.
There was a faint sound—like an electrical buzz. It was felt more than it was heard. Felt in a reverberation throughout the body like a distant bass instrument, thrumming deep and unnaturally in the cavity of one’s chest.
Instinctively, the group shuffled back a few steps . . . except for Gracie. She actually moved in closer and tightened her grip on Zen’s other arm.
There was no exploding beam of energy; no change in the level of lighting or temperature; no thunderous boom, or deep rumble underfoot. But the air did change—just in front of Zen. It diffused slightly in a hazy sheen, as though heat had suddenly been introduced within a predefined outline, distorting the background objects. A small bluish beam of light shot out from the device and illuminated an area on one of the large rocks.
“Okay, Zen,” instructed Jacob. “That small, first beam is the sampler. The data from the sampler has been instantly sent back to the device’s memory. Now, only material which is atomically identical to the sampled material—the rocks in this case—will be transformed.”
Zen stood froze like a statue, but he had a keen smile on his face. Now this was fun!
“Go ahead and depress the trigger all the way down,” continued Jacob, making the motions with his own hand.
Zen’s face winced slightly, more out of excitement than anything else. He brought his arm up in a straight line of fire. He aimed at the pile of rocks, held his breath, and pulled the trigger into the full fire position. He waited for the recoil . . . but there was none. The surrounding gasps, however, hinted that something extraordinary had begun. Then things really got going.
The rocks began to vibrate, crack and pop. As they did, the entire pile seemed to come alive. They jumped and rolled; banged and slammed, one rock against another.
Gold splotches soon appeared. Then, all at once, the entire pile began to morph into a shimmering yellow illumination.
With each sweep of Zen’s hand, more of the rocks, like popcorn, jumped and rolled from the top of the pile down—now much smaller and more dense than they had been, yet each keeping its same general shape.
“Would you look at that!” shouted Eli. His eyes, like those around him, wide as saucers.
“It’s fantastic!” Ellen cried back.
Jacob’s description was exactly right: as the beam swept across other types of debris and objects within the large cavern, none were affected, only the rocks.
When Zen was satisfied that his pile was now all pure gold (all movement had ceased), he released the device’s triggering switch and slowly lowered his hand.
The entire chamber fell into a grave silence.
Right in front of them all—where there had been a pile of ugly broken rocks—was now a shimmering heap of pure yellow gold.
“Unbelievable Jake!” Zen finally managed. His voice rasp with astonishment.
“Is it really gold?” spoke up Gracie, finally releasing her grip on her husband’s arm.
“Yes,” Jacob replied happily. “Atom-for-atom, mass-for-mass. It is AU-79: pure gold. All protons, neutrons, electrons, and every other ancillary particle of every nucleus has been restructured, and their force carrying bosons realigned.
“That’s why they are much smaller. They are more dense,” Zen correctly assumed.
“Yes,” said Jacob.
“Oh, I wish I could see it, Jacob” spoke Ruthanne, her excitement somewhat shadowed in disappointment. “But I can touch them, and feel their characteristics. That in and of itself is exciting.” She knew the shapes of every item in the cavern; the location and identity of every person around her, but still, she could not see as the others saw.
“Just wait a few more minutes,” Jacob imbued. “These are just shapeless and random objects. In just a moment, you will be able to feel—and even sit on—Ellen’s chair of pure gold! Now that will be truly worth touching!”
Ruthanne clasped her hands together and nearly burst with excitement.
Ellen just stood wild-eyed and motionless, drawing anxious breaths like everyone else. Her voice seemed lost in her visual overload, yet she couldn’t help but doubt the outcome of the final product. Her silly request for a chair of gold had started as a facetious joke. But now . . . was Jacob really serious? Was he . . . no, could he actually make good on such a claim? It certainly didn’t feel like a joke now.
“Now that I’ve demonstrated the element conversation process,” Jacob continued, “let me show you how the object formation phase works. I’ve programmed the device to project an image similar to the type of chair Ellen described—or at least how I understood it to be,” he continued, giving her a quick nod.
She gulped and grinned back.
“The projection is created by a modulation of the EMR wave energy. Like gravity, it is an all conclusive, accumulative force, with no negatively charged interactions to cancel forces. But unlike gravitational forces—which require mass to expound—the EMR wave goes instantly exponential and works to target either individual elements or molecules. Its force manipulates quantum states of energy like a computer manipulates bytes of data.”
“So you are saying that this three-dimensional image of a chair,” questioned Eli, “will attract, or pull the AU atoms onto it?”
“Exactly.” Jacob waited for another response, but his colleagues had fallen remarkably still.
“You’ll understand after the demonstration.” He eyed Zen, then motioned for him to step forward. “Zen. How about you take over and finish the job.” He deferred with a brief nod.
Zen stepped in at the request and anxiously took hold of the revered device. But after a minute or two, the EMR still had not successfully attached itself to his wrist. He seemed to be having some difficulty . . . yet again.
Jacob clicked his tongue. He reached over
Zen’s arm and pushed a series of buttons on the electronic input pad. “Like that.”
“Ah,” nodded Zen.
The projection of a chair appeared then vanished . . . appeared . . . vanished—Jacob rushed in. “What are you—” he grunted. “Zen! You’re doing it wrong . . . are you paying attention?”
Finally, Zen stood steady.
Jacob was near breakdown. The kid looked to have enough charge in his spark to power the entire project. “I could have done this myself in half the time,” he grumbled under his breath.
But this time as Zen worked the EMR module, it functioned with perfection.
The image of the chair appeared, yet barely visible in the same ghostly bluish glow. Zen slowly swept his arm until the projection fell directly onto the target pile. As Zen applied pressure to the trigger, the pile of gold rock suddenly exploded with movement. Each of the gold objects began lurch and quake, as if alive and tormented by some unseen force. Then, in the next instant, the quivering entity suddenly liquefied and poured itself up and onto the projection. The flow crawled in all angles, defying not only gravity, but all other physical laws. Soon, the shimmering liquid had clung to every facet of the image until with a finale so absolute and perfect, a chair of pure gold stood before them. It was breathtakingly exquisite, beyond all imagination!
A slight smudge of gold fragments remained sprayed across the ground where the pile had been—the remnant not necessary to satisfy the mass-density of the chair.
“It will be hot for a few minutes,” spoke Jacob, eying the great gold structure as casually as if he’d just changed a tire on a car. “But as you can see—” his words broke off. He glanced around the room. No one said a word. All faces had taken on a very different look. The expressions of excitement, enthusiasm and uncertainty were gone. Replaced instead by pale, fearful masks.
Of Salt and Sand Page 16