The Day Gravity Became Irrelevant

by Ralph Rotten

  “Yep.” Smug in his reply, Jack again flashed her that smile. Careful to look her in the eyes, he did his best to not stare at her chest, something that took considerable effort for him.

  “Well, I have news for you; levitating the Queen Mary that close to the airport was a violation of FAA regs.” Waiting to see how he would respond to that, Jenna watched his expression carefully.

  “We had a temporary permit to loft a balloon in excess of three hundred feet. It’s in the glove compartment if you wanna see it.” Clearly enjoying himself, Jack pointed to the compartment on the passenger side of the dashboard.

  That revelation shocked the federal agent. It occurred to her that Rangi would never let her forget that detail. Again it stunned her how the brothers had concealed their efforts like the purloined letter.

  “None of this seems to bother you. Being hunted by the government, your brother being in custody, foreign agents from every country on the planet out looking to kidnap you on sight…” Without meaning to, she spoke her mind, revealing her dismay at his casual attitude.

  “It has all been foreseen. We know every move the government is gonna make.” Nodding seriously for the first time, Jack’s voice held no doubt.

  “Sure.” Unconvinced, Jenna frowned. “If that were the case, then how did your brother end up in custody?”

  “Twas all part of the plan.” Giving a flourish with his hand, Jack’s grin was back. “When all is said and done, the government will give us two billion dollars, in cash, tax free, and the deed to the moon.”

  The last part shocked her. Never having been part of the contract negotiation, this was the first she was hearing of the deal.

  Jack saw her shock right away. He knew it was the right time to let her in on the things that had been kept from her.

  “Here.” Pulling a copy of the contract from his pocket, he presented it to her. “We gave a copy of this to Marco days ago. They never told you because they think they can get it for free.”

  Unfolding the paperwork hastily, she read through the extensive legalese until she reached the end of the document. Pausing to glance at Jack, she started to read it a second time.

  “You were serious? You asked for the moon? Seriously, the moon?” The disbelief in her voice was thick. “What in the hell’d you want with the moon?”

  As Jack turned to face her, his expression was truly serious for the first time. “Because we’re gonna go to the moon.”

  Stuck for anything to say, she could tell he was not kidding; he actually believed he could go to the moon.

  “That’s nuts.” Shaking her head she dismissed it all with a wave of her hand.

  “Not really. With gravitational disaffinity it’s easy to make orbit. See, the hardest part of getting to the moon is the first sixty miles. After that you pretty much coast to the moon. Easy-peazy.”

  Her mouth moved but no words came out as the federal agent considered the flaw in his logic.

  “Yeah, but even with a billion and a half dollars, it’s not enough to get to the moon.” Pointing to a key figure in the contract she indicated the current asking price for the invention. “You said they’d give you two billion, but this contract only asks for one point five.”

  “That’s today’s contract. It was a billion originally but then they sent SWAT to our house, or thought they did anyhow, and we raised it a quarter billion. Then this morning they arrested Jamie so it went up another quarter B. By the time they finally give up and give us our damned money, we will have hiked it twice in response to their egregious efforts to obtain the device illegally. The final price will be an even two billion, they just don’t know it yet.”

  Feeling at a disadvantage, Jenna’s mind scrambled to understand how they would know these things with such surety. In the back of her mind she wondered if they were time travelers by the way they were so sure of their plan.

  “Still, it’s not enough money to get to the moon.” Shaking her head, she doubted it was possible.

  Adjusting his seat, Jack looked her in the eye before speaking. “See, the thing about space travel is that it’s so damned expensive because everything has to be made out of such specialized materials. A space ship has to be fantastically light, yet strong enough to withstand the rigors of launch. Not only that, it has to shield the occupants from the intense cold, heat, and radiation of space. It’s because it costs over eighty thousand dollars a pound to loft cargo into space that makes it so cost prohibitive. But what if you had an invention that reduced that cost to three dollars a pound? Hell, with gravitational disaffinity, it’s cheaper for me to get into orbit than to ship a package overnight. So with all of that in mind, I no longer have to worry about using special materials that are super light. So long as I properly shield the passengers from radiation, I can use pretty much anything I want. Hell, we coulda used the Queen Mary as a space vessel if it weren’t for the hassles of navigating with that much mass. Well, that and the fact that she’s about as airtight as a colander.”

  Letting that soak in, Jack watched her eyes. There was something so captivating about Jenna that he had a hard time tearing his gaze away from her.

  Something flashed on the dashboard, alerting Jack that they were close to their destination. Gripping the steering wheel, he began maneuvering their descent.

  “What about those other countries that want this invention? What if North Korea offered you five billion dollars…?” Raising an eyebrow, Jenna asked something that had been bothering her since she first saw the Queen Mary floating over the harbor.

  “Sell it to another country?” Jack’s expression was one of incredulous shock. “Giiiit the fuck outta here with that. You do understand the military implications of this invention? If another nation ever got control of this, America would go from Alpha-nation to has-been in ten seconds flat. Not only would this be a fantastic weapon, but the financial bounty from antigravity would be so huge that the host nation could become the dominant economic power for the next twenty years. They would rule the world, and the US would cease to be relevant on the world stage. Not only would we never do that, but special precautions are already in place to keep enemies from getting hold of the invention. We are professionals, y’know.”

  Jenna had watched his face carefully the entire time he spoke. As an experienced interrogator she had been looking for any hint of deception. Seeing none, she knew that the things he said were genuine. Turning to look out her window she tensed up at the sight of the city rushing up to meet them. Gripping the arm rest tightly, the federal agent watched as a tall sign advertising Guido’s Chicago Style Pizza slid past her view. Glancing back at the dashboard she watched as Jack used a downward focused camera to guide him to a safe landing in an open space.

  “These guys make the best pizza.” Flashing her that crazy smile of his, Jack turned back to the drive-up menu. “Hey, Margie, lemme get two slices of pepperoni, a coke, and a diet Pepsi.”

  It struck Jenna as odd that he knew her preference for soft drink. Pushing that fact to the back of her mind for later processing, she tried to keep up the friendly banter.

  “You’re a cheap date. Most guys at least buy the whole pizza.” Sniffing at the order, she felt her stomach rumbling with hunger. It occurred to her that she had not eaten since leaving the office that morning.

  “No, no, no, this is Chicago-style pizza. A whole pie would kill you. As it is, this stuff is so rich that as you’re eating it you can actually hear your arteries creaking as they harden. Seriously, they keep a fully-charged set of chest paddles inside just in case you suffer a myocardial infarction while eating their pizza. This stuff is incredible, even if it increases your risk of stroke.”

  Jenna had to laugh at his antics. He seemed so animated when he spoke that she found his attitude infectious. There was just a sense of optimism about him that made Jack E. Sparks stand out from other people she had known.

  “This stuff is mind-boggling.” Jack nodded his assurance as he handed her a small box that w
as already saturated with oil along the bottom. Handing her a plastic knife and fork caused Jenna to raise a curious eyebrow.

  “A fork for pizza?” She remarked uncertainly.

  “You’ll see.” He reassured her before waving bye to the woman in the drive-up window. It was apparent that he was no stranger to the staff of Guido’s.

  Opening the box, Jenna was surprised to find a slice of pizza that was more than an inch deep. Poking it with the plastic knife she likened it to pizza-loaf. With layers of cheese topped by pepperoni topped by yet more cheese, it was really more of a pizza casserole. Chewing her first bite of the gooey mess, she was barely even aware of the car as it lifted up into the air.

  “OMG!” She tried to speak the letters with a mouthful of cheese. It was as if she were chewing on a concentrated glob of pure flavor. It was so unlike any pizza she had ever eaten before that she finally understood the distinction between regular pizza and Chicago-style.

  “Lemme know if you start feeling any shooting pains up and down your left arm.” Chuckling, Jack dug into his own pizza as soon as they were airborne.

  “Is it odd that I smell toast?” Kidding back, Jenna was already half-way through her own pie.

  “It’s not a toomah!” Jack spoke with a thick Austrian accent, making them both laugh aloud.

  Down to one last bite of pizza, Jenna had to close the box and sit back. She now understood why her host had insisted that one piece was enough. It was as if someone had dropped a brick of solid cheese into her gut.

  “Wow!” Raising both eyebrows, her surprise was evident. “That’s some kinda pizza.”

  “You should try their deep-dish.” Jack’s voice held a hint of doom to it as he thought of the magnificent mess. “You have to take blood thinners before you eat that stuff.”

  Relaxing as she looked out the window, Jenna enjoyed the view from 3,000 feet AGL. A quick glance at the dashboard and she could see that the navigational system was rendering a course that dodged around the various airports in the area. It amazed her to watch the system in action. Disguised as a battered antique car, it was the last platform she would have expected to showcase their inventions. She would have expected at least a DeLorean.

  “So what’s your plan?” Breaking the silence, Jenna’s tone turned professional.

  “Well, with a new POC we will begin the negotiations anew.” Gesturing to his passenger, Jack made it clear that she was their new point-of-contact.

  “Excuse?” She stammered.

  “I didn’t give you a copy of the contract so you’d have something to add to your case-file. Marco has been a lying, cheating shit since first contact, so he’s out and you’re in.” Pointing to the contract that she still had in her lap, Jack’s face was suddenly bereft of emotion.

  “I got news for you; I’ve been sidelined. After that crap this morning I’m on paid leave until further notice.” Shaking her head, she knew they intended to cut her out of the process.

  “Think what you want, but ten minutes after we land you are gonna get a phone call reinstating you to active duty.” Shrugging, he showed disbelief in the things she had said.

  “How do you know this?” Raising an eyebrow she was skeptical. “Or is this all part of your secret plan?”

  “I know it because right now Alexis is calling the President of the United States and telling him to put you on the case or else.” Hands on the wheel, Jack was again maneuvering for a landing.

  “Calling the…” Her face screwed up in thought, she could only repeat his words. “Or else what?”

  Settling the Mustang to the ground gently, Jack turned and gave her a flat smile.

  “Agent Jaramillo, this is the part where you take the contract, go home, and get dressed for work. Unless you intend to arrest me.”

  Jenna thought that over. After weeks of investigating she could not think of a single law they had broken, state or federal. After examining the documents in his glove compartment, he even had a permit to levitate the Queen Mary. While she had orders to take the man into protective custody, without a warrant or evidence of a crime she felt compelled to refuse that directive.

  “I apologize for not being able to bring you back to your car, but there is a small army of federal agents swarming the parking lot around your car. You were parked thataway about a block.” Gesturing to the east, he knew his directions were accurate.

  Jenna briefly wondered how he knew there were agents around her car, until she noticed the earpiece he wore in his left ear. Hiding her surprise, she realized that he had been talking to someone else the whole time. He had mentioned someone named Alexis, was that who was at the other end of that line? Still mulling that over, she scooped up the contract and her beach bag.

  “Thanks for the pizza.” Giving him a nod, she stepped out of the car.

  Watching the old Mustang rise up into the air, she felt the oddest sensation. Truly, in her entire life she had never met anyone like Jack Sparks. Furthermore, she could not remember the last time a man had been able to make her laugh.

  As President of the United States, Jefferson Phelps was also the leader of his political party, a duty that he relished. The only thing he craved more than power was a public platform in the limelight. For him, the never ending flood of media attention was the one thing that he desired above all else in the world.

  Seated at the head of the little sofa area of his office, he presided over a meeting with the Senate majority leader and Speaker of the House. It had been a banner year with his party taking a dominant position in all three venues. It pleased Phelps to think that the entire country was essentially run by the three men in the room. With a complete dominance in the Senate, White House, and House of Representatives, they had been able to carry out their greatest party ambitions. Deregulation of the banks had helped to fill the republican coffers. Stripping the EPA of any authority and turning it into a puppet organization had also made them friends of industry, leading to some extremely grateful campaign contributions across the GOP board. Sure, they had tossed in a few paltry bills for their constituents, enough to make them think they were still working for the little guy, but nothing of real consequence. With Phelps it was always the promise of great things that kept him afloat, not the actual implementation.

  Having just thrown their political base a few bones in the form of a middle-class tax relief bill, Jefferson Phelps knew that they could coast for a while. Using what had amounted to a tax refund, he knew his voters would hail him as a hero even though economists referred to the move as fiscally irresponsible. Really it did not matter; having used his office to discredit the press and his other foes, Jefferson Phelps knew who his people were listening to.

  It was the sound of the phone ringing that caused the three men to look up abruptly. In the oval office the phone never rang without warning from his secretary. Typically calls were parked on one of the three incoming lines until POTUS was ready to talk to them. It was for this reason that the sound of the phone seemed so atypical.

  “Kelly, I said no calls.” Raising his voice, Phelps expected his secretary to hear him through the soundproofed door. Attempting to return to his conversation, POTUS was irritated when the phone continued to buzz.

  “Mebbe it’s an emergency.” The speaker of the house shrugged; it was not unheard of for urgent matters of state to interrupt meetings.

  “Martin, can you get that.” Nodding to his chief-of-staff, Phelps immediately returned to the discussion of how to finish gutting the Department of Energy. There were so many pesky regulations that had interfered with his donors’ ability to make money.

  Scooping up the phone, Martin DeColle looked irritated as he listened to the voice at the other end. His expression changing noticeably as he seemed perplexed by what he was hearing.

  “Who told you that?” The color draining from his face, the Chief of Staff immediately went into denial mode. “No, that is not…no! Who is this?”

  The other three men in the room paused their conv
ersation long enough to turn and watch the exchange. Normally unflappable, Martin was a seasoned veteran in the political arena. It was atypical to see him struggle with a simple phone call.

  “Marty, what is it?” Phelps was just making the inquiry when the office door opened.

  Poking her head in the door, the president’s secretary seemed perplexed as she waited for her boss to acknowledge her.

  “What is it, Kelly?” Phelps was beginning to wonder what sort of catastrophe had occurred that would justify interrupting his meeting.

  Looking past Phelps, Kelly locked eyes with the chief-of-staff before walking across the room to hand him a small sheaf of documents.

  “These just popped out of my printer; the cover letter says they are for your eyes only.” Even as she spoke the words, her eyes said that she had glimpsed the contents.

  Flipping through the pages as he used his shoulder to hold the receiver in place, Martin DeColle’s face was aghast at the images. Looking up at Kelly he knew right away that she had likely seen at least a few of the photos.

  “It’s all Photoshop, that’s all it is.” Shaking his head, he dismissed her suspicions as best as he could. “I’ll take it from here, Kelly. Thank you.”

  Turning away to depart, the secretary knew right away that he was lying; Martin DeColle had never once in three years thanked her for anything. The man scarcely acknowledged her as a human being, let alone showed gratitude. Closing the door silently behind her, she began to wonder who they were talking to since it had not come through her switchboard.

  “Okay.” His voice quiet, Martin agreed with the caller before holding out the phone to Phelps. With his left hand he opened a desk drawer and began feeding the images into a shredder concealed there. “It’s for you, about the Queen Mary negotiation.”

  “Oh.” Phelps perked up. “Is it our boy Assad?”

  “No.” Shaking his head, the chief-of-staff held out the handset for Phelps.

  Although the President held Martin DeColle in the highest regard, being a germaphobe made the President apprehensive about placing the receiver against his own ear. Leaving Marty standing there with the handset, he instead pressed the speakerphone button.