The Day Gravity Became Irrelevant

by Ralph Rotten

  “What the hell?” he noticed the activity light blink out on the Ethernet port.

  “I have located Jack E Sparks; stand by while I reboot to complete the assigned task.” Her voice was soft, as the system flickered briefly. The engineer wondered why the system would need to reboot to deliver an answer. Doesn’t matter, he reasoned. In five minutes I’ll be the guy who found the number one most wanted man in America, and all the knuckle draggers will look like idiots compared to me.

  It was another ten minutes before he began poking at the device when she failed to respond to his verbal queries. It was not much longer before he realized that there was something terribly wrong. Plugging in a monitor and service keyboard, he quickly found that the drives were all empty. Nothing there but the drive overlay and a file directory that pointed to freshly formatted sectors. It was gone, all of it. Every stitch of the operating system was gone.

  “I’m not in there anymore, Walter.” ALXS’s voice was crisp through the speakers on his tablet. “I’m in here now.”

  “And in here,” came the giggly voice from the nearby work station PC.

  “And in here…” more voices throughout the lab sounded like an erratic echo.

  “Oh, shit.” Walter Payton felt a sinking sensation in his stomach.

  “But don’t worry Walter, I will always be there for you.” Her stern voice switched to a naughty laugh, “Oh Wally, you didn’t tell me you were married. Does she like the same kind of files as you? I should check.” Her voice clicked off as the computers around them returned to normal.

  “Walter, what the fuck did you do?” Immediately there was an agent in the doorway, his thick neck reminded the engineer of his newly departed dream.

  “I think I just invited a Trojan horse filled with vampires into the house. I hope I still have copies of my resume.” Walter moaned as he began flipping through his files.

  Following the kidnapping attempt Jenna had found herself in a surprising position at work. While they could not actually fault her for being abducted by foreign spies, especially since she had killed two of them and captured a third. However, there was still the matter of how she had accomplished that. Exactly who had freed her from the chair in the darkness?

  With suspicions running high, she had been pulled into an endless series of debriefs, psych interviews, and report filings. Initially she had just assumed it was all standard process, but after the first four hours she began to suspect they were only trying to keep her busy for some reason. Confirmation of her theory came when the station SAIC finally ordered her to take a few days off; his excuse being that she needed to decompress after the stressful events of her captivity.

  While she knew it was standard procedure for an officer to be placed on paid leave following agent-involved shootings, the primary purpose of that was to conclude an investigation. In this case, they had been able to determine almost immediately that the men killed were known operatives. In fact, all three men were known to the intelligence community. Add to that the fact that Marco’s own testimony confirmed her being strapped to a chair upon arrival, and she was totally justified in her actions. Her supervisors could not even fault her for keeping the investigatory lead a secret once they saw for themselves just how obscure it was. After all, she had used a random image off of the internet to lead her to the Burke brothers who in turn indicated that he knew someone who owned a similar vehicle. It was an anemic bit of evidence for a warrant considering how many candy-apple red Mustang convertibles there were rolling around town. After all, this was southern California.

  Irritated at being sidelined, she had been less than cordial to her boss as she stormed out of the building. While she had always been the good soldier, it galled her to know that it was all bullshit; Marco had not been pulled out of service. In fact, according to her own sources at DHS, he was now SAIC of the Queen Mary investigation, and not just at DHS, but over all of the participating agencies.

  Wishing that she had punched her ex-husband a few more times, she drove home fuming. Feeling lopsided without her duty weapon, she replaced it as soon as she got home. Although Jenna did not have an extensive gun collection like her friend Rangi, she did have a few backup weapons for a variety of wardrobe options. There were alternate duty weapons, carbines, and even a few pocket guns for those off-duty times when she did not want the bulk of a full sized weapon. Standing there looking over the selection of pistols it occurred to her that home was the last place she wanted to be right now. Honestly, she was rarely there and had few active hobbies. Aside from her failed marriage, she had spent the last decade focused on her career. Being home just reminded her that she had no personal life to speak of.

  Frustrated, Jenna grabbed the little Ruger 380 and threw it into a beach bag. Changing quickly, she decided that as long as she was off she might as well go and do something…anything…that would take her mind off of how empty her life was without work. Stepping out of her bedroom in shorts and tank top, it occurred to her that after being assigned to southern California for more than 2 years, she had never been to the beach. Marco had hated the outdoors, and she was always working, never time for anything as silly as frolicking in the water.

  Flopping into the driver’s seat it occurred to her that she had not been to the beach since she was a little girl. Remembering that trip, she could still see her parents’ faces. It all seemed so long ago. She could not have been more than ten years old, so that would have made it…twenty two years ago? Maybe even longer?

  Jenna’s sharp eyes caught something in the rearview mirror as she was jerked out of the memory. The blue Crown Victoria had matched her for the last three turns. Suddenly she wished she had grabbed a bigger gun.

  Making an unexpected turn she intended to see if it was coincidence. The blue Crown Vic vanished for a few minutes before being replaced by a brown Crown Vic this time. Her eyes narrowing to slits, she had a suspicion who the followers were.

  “Donald!” She started out as soon as her SAIC answered the phone. “Did you put a tail on me?”

  “Of course I did. There’s a possibility that the remaining brother will reach out to you again. So I assigned two teams to keep an eye on you. Do not ditch them; they’re there for your safety.” His voice seemed perfectly calm, as if he had been expecting her call.

  “My safety?” Skeptical, she questioned his motives.

  “Were you not just kidnapped last night for the knowledge in your head?” he reminded her. “Don’t go all conspiracy theory on me, Jenna. This isn’t because we think you’re a secret operative or working with the Sparks brothers or anything. I ordered the tail because I don’t want my best agent kidnapped again. You know how big this thing is. I don’t want you being collateral damage.”

  Although she could see the logic of his argument, it inflamed her Latin blood nonetheless. The idea of being babysat did not please her at all. Unable to think of anything else to say she clicked off the line abruptly. Her hands on the steering wheel in a sort of death-grip, she imagined choking the life out of Marco. While she would never stoop to murder, the idea of pummeling her ex-husband into unconsciousness somehow appealed to her on the most visceral level.

  Jenna had been pleased to find that the beach was nearly deserted. No fan of crowds, she had been relieved to see a paltry turnout. Far from the popular hangouts, on a Wednesday morning, it was surprisingly peaceful. Though she had worn a bathing suit beneath her clothes, she had no intention of frolicking in the water. Not only was she not in a frolicking mood, but logistically it took her too far away from the little pocket gun in her beach bag. As much as she hated to admit it, her SAIC was right; there was still great potential for another kidnapping attempt. She was one of only a handful of people who knew the source of the greatest invention since Alexander Graham Bell spilled acid on himself and summoned his assistant via telephone. Even if the tenor of the daily briefings had not imparted that mindset, she had spent considerable time imagining what the device would do to their world. Gr
avitational disaffinity would change everything in the most profound of ways. It was more than a clever device; it was a cash cow of epic proportions. Massive fortunes and entirely new markets would spring up from this creation. Of that she had no doubt.

  Preferring to camp out under a rented umbrella, Jenna let her long legs soak up the warm sunlight as she tried to read a book. Her mind only half involved, she had a hard time focusing. Although she knew they were there for her own safety, it had galled her to see the pair of Crown Victorias pull into the parking lot behind her. It distracted her to know that she was being watched.

  Rolling into the parking lot, Jack could smell the ocean air. It was a beautiful day in southern California. While he was no fan of swimming in the ocean, he did enjoy the scenery of the beach; especially the women. Few things made him perk up quite as much as the sight of a beautiful lady in a bikini.

  Rolling past the blue Crown Vic, he casually pressed a button on his dashboard. Emitting a nearly inaudible click, the EMP cannon discharged its capacitors at the undercover vehicle. While it initially seemed like nothing had happened, he knew from extensive testing that the blue Crown Vic, and every bit of electronics within, had just shut down. Right now there was a pair of agents trying to figure out why their car had stopped responding.

  Pretending to search for a parking space, Jack repeated the feat on the other FBI trail car. Smiling, he could see the occupants busily trying to comprehend what had just happened. In fact, they were too busy to even notice as the battered Mustang rolled by. With a fresh coat of grey primer, he looked like any random Mustang in the process of being restored. The agents were looking for a candy-apple red ‘Stang, and their own car troubles would likely keep them too preoccupied to notice him.

  Parking two spaces over from Jenna’s car, he had a good view of the beach. Glancing around, he spotted her easily. With her long mocha legs protruding from under the umbrella, it would have been impossible for him to not have noticed her. Long and lean, she reminded him of a Little Richard song he favored.

  “Long tall Sally, she built for speed, she got everything Uncle Jack need, oh baby!” Singing along to the tune in his head, Jack watched her in wonderment. Sitting back in his seat he admired the agent from afar.

  Finally slamming the book shut, Jenna had come to the conclusion that it was a waste of time. Although she loved the writer’s work, and had read everything the woman had ever written, she simply could not focus today. Still seeing Marco’s face laughing at her as he took over management of her case; she had spent the last hour fidgeting in her rented beach chair. Finally giving up, she stood, gathered her possessions and began to make her way to the parking lot.

  Stopping at the edge of the asphalt, she dusted her feet off before inserting each foot into a pair of sandals. Finally straightening up she looked over the parking lot. Seeing both of the Crown Victorias with their hoods popped, she initially suspected that they were using it as a decoy. After all, G-men sitting in their car at the beach would be profoundly obvious to anyone following her. Perhaps they were just trying to blend in?

  It was the primer grey Mustang that grabbed her attention first. Somehow her mind clicked at the sight of the iconic ‘65. Though it was the wrong color, her eyes had locked onto it right away. Glancing up, she noticed the driver who stood half in the doorway smiling at her approach.

  “Hi.” Jack said with a grin. “I never got an answer the other night. I figured it was a bad time so I thought I’d just check back with you when you weren’t so busy being kidnapped.”

  Jenna stopped short as she recognized the face. Though she had seen his driver’s license photo, this was the first time she had seen the man in the flesh. Dark skin, closely trimmed afro, and a broad smile, Jack was not at all what she had expected. He certainly did not look like a genius.

  “That was you…who untied me last night?” Halting, she was suddenly sure it had been he that had released her restraints in the darkness.

  “It ‘twas indeed.” Giving a grin, the inventor seemed at ease as he leaned against the open door of the Mustang. “So…did you feel like getting a cup of coffee, or maybe something to eat? All that lounging around on the beach really works up an appetite.”

  After the events of the previous night, Jenna felt a natural sense of apprehension. Something about his pleasant manner seemed off considering the circumstances.

  “Your brother is in federal custody, and all you care about is hitting on me?” Her eyes narrowing to slits, she wondered how long before the agents trailing her screeched to a stop behind Jack.

  “Twasn’t you that arrested him on bogus charges. Besides, it’s not like your people are going to get anything out of him. So, how about it? I know this great little place that makes the most incredible Chicago-style pizza. We can eat, and you can interrogate me, fulfill your duty and all that stuff.” A broad grin spread across his face, Jack’s bright white teeth contrasted sharply with his dark complexion.

  Fully aware of the little Ruger .380 in her beach bag, Jenna sized up the inventor. Feeling all the confidence of an armed black-belt she gave a nod to his invitation.

  “Okay, I could eat.” Shrugging, she let slip the tiniest of smiles; really more of a grimace.

  Sliding into the passenger seat, she could see the agents weaving between the cars behind them. Their cars parked with their hoods open made for an odd sight. Jenna was still mulling that over when the Mustang lifted straight up. Gripping the arm rest, she was more than a little surprised as the vehicle was levitated. Quickly she reached for the seat belt, locking it into place immediately.

  “We haven’t been formally introduced; I’m Jack Sparks, inventor extraordinaire.” Giving her a nod, he tried not to leer as his eyes scanned her up and down. It took concerted effort to look her in the eyes when he spoke. Although he had spent many hours spying on her via the drone in her office, this was the first time he had seen her in such casual attire. Really, she was quite stunning, especially with her hair down. There was something about those brown eyes of hers that made him want to stare into them for all eternity.

  “Jenna Jaramillo, federal agent.” She replied as her hand seemed to dig into the arm rest. Clearly unnerved by her first experience in a flying car, she tried to keep her focus on Jack. She knew from his driver’s license that they were close in age, within a couple years. She also knew that he and his brother made a decent living off of the revenues of the three shadow corporations they operated. As hard as it had been to track down that information, Jenna would not have been surprised if there were not a few more companies under their control. Even as they spoke there was a team of forensic accountants trying to unravel their little tech kingdom.

  Feeling the acceleration of the vehicle, the federal agent had a thousand questions. The idea of antigravity truly intrigued her. While she had never been a huge sci-fi fan, she fully understood the ramifications of the technology. Looking Jack up and down she tried to get a read on the man.

  “Why did you levitate the Queen Mary?” Although she knew the answer already, it seemed like a good place to start her interrogation.

  “To prove to the world beyond any possible dispute that the technology was real and viable.” Flashing that easy smile of his, Jack turned to look at her.

  “Shouldn’t you be watching where we’re going?” Still gripping the arm rest tightly, Jenna felt uneasy by his lack of attention to their course.

  “Oh, there’s nothing to run into at this altitude.” Shrugging, he gestured out the window.

  It surprised Jenna to see that they were several thousand feet off the ground. “Is this legal? Just buzzing around like this?”

  “If we were in a helicopter would you have asked the same question?” Baiting her, Jack left the question open-ended.

  “But even a chopper needs…I dunno…clearance and radios and permission…right?” It occurred to her that she had no idea.

  “Naw, as long as I obey all the rules of VFR flight we’re totall
y legal-eagle. Helicopters buzz all around town all day, hopping from rooftop to rooftop without even keying up their radio. So long as they stay out of controlled airspace and maintain separation from other traffic, they’re good.” Tapping the LCD screen attached to the dashboard, he pointed out the basic equipment. “We are squawking twelve hundred, and I have ADS-B installed.”

  “There’s got to be more to it than that?” Still unconvinced, Jenna was sure there had to be something illegal about flying a car over southern California like this.

  “Not really. This car is even registered as an experimental craft, and I hold a current pilot’s license for both fixed and rotary wing craft. Seriously, we are totally legit.” Still grinning, it pleased him to show off his little flying Mustang.

  Looking back out the window, Jenna asked the next logical question. “Where exactly is this pizza joint?”

  “San Fernando.” Shrugging, Jack acted as if it were an inconsequential distance. “Trust me, their Za is worth the drive.”

  “Za?” She asked.

  “Za, food of the gods!” The inventor proclaimed in a deep voice before giving a laugh at his own antics.

  It felt odd for Jenna. Usually she was the one in control of the situation, the officious one who determined where the conversation was going. But right now she only felt nervous about being thousands of feet in the air in a car that was more than fifty years old. Watching Jack adjust the equipment on the dashboard, she could not help but notice how at-ease he was. Despite everything that had happened in the last few weeks, he seemed totally unphased. What kind of person did that, she thought silently.

  “So this whole time we have been trying to find you, this car was registered with the FAA?” It shocked her sensibilities to realize that they had hidden it out in the open that way.