by Thomas Babak
“Why does it do that? Why does it drop down like that?” Mr. Bullock asked, finally saying something after being quiet for the past several minutes.
“When the field forms around something, it forms outside of the Stators. It pushes outward, mostly. The Bubble Sphere field would form about an inch outside of it. The van is bigger and it looks like the field forms about three inches. I don’t know much else. I think the more Stators or the more power or the larger the field, the further out the field forms. I just don’t know. I don’t know how to test or measure it either. I haven’t had time, either” Sandy added.
“I almost forgot!” Sandy exclaimed startling Mr. Bullock a little again.
“I should have showed you this when we were in the van. Can we get back in?” he asked looking at Mr. Bullock.
Mr. Bullock just shrugged his shoulders as if saying “why not?”
Sandy tried to help him, but returning to his usual form, Mr. Bullock shrugged him off and made his way up the steps and got back into the passenger seat. He’d calmed down enough now to react how he usually did when Sandy tried to help him.
Sandy got back in as well and pulled the control tray up and towards himself, locking it into place. He pressed a button. The van disappeared as the Bubble Field activated.
“Watch… Uh… feel this?” Sandy said
He clicked the clutch with his pinky finger and switched the mode to Lifters and activated them.
Mr. Bullock immediately felt something different. He couldn’t explain it. It was something he felt with his whole body. He felt… lighter.
“Umm… watch,” Sandy said, reaching out and grasping the Thruster handle. He clicked a button and then pulled the Thruster back from its center position.
Mr. Bullock felt himself get very light. It was a very uncomfortable feeling. He felt like he was falling. He shifted a little and felt himself rise out of his seat. He looked at Sandy who had a huge smile plastered on his face. Sandy noticed the expression on Mr. Bullock’s face and immediately pushed the thruster back to center. Weight returned and Mr. Bullock’s body settled back into his seat.
“What the hell was that, Sandy?” he exclaimed.
“Sorry Mr. Bullock,” Sandy said anxiously “It surprised me too, the first time it happened. I should have warned you. Sorry.”
“So what was it?” Mr. Bullock asked more calmly.
“When the Bubble field is on and I turn on the Lifters too, I can control gravity inside the Bubble Field,” Sandy said in a matter of fact tone.
“Anti-Gravity?” Mr. Bullock asked in the same tone.
“Uhh… yes. But not just Anti-Gravity. I can make us a lot heavier too by controlling the amount of power I… ” he trailed off at Mr. Bullock’s expression.
“Sandy. Have you thought about what you are going to do with all of this?” he asked, his tone turning deadly serious.
“Umm… sort of. I figure I’d work on it some more. Get some of the bugs out. Tweak a few things. Then get some patents on it. I haven’t really researched that yet. I think I can make lots and lots of money with it,” Sandy answered, the last part making him smile tentatively to Mr. Bullock’s serious expression.
“We need to talk Sandy. Yes this can make you more money than you, than anyone, could imagine. It can also kill, hurt, destroy, maim as well. It could be the most destructive thing in human history,” Mr. Bullock said, his tone and posture indicating his seriousness.
Sandy sat there, stunned. How could what he had invented cause harm? He had been so excited about what he had invented, though initially scared when the secret was found out by Mr. Bullock. Why was Mr. Bullock looking more upset now than when he first saw Sandy’s camper van hovering in mid-air?
Four
Sandy and Mr. Bullock went back to the offices after Sandy carefully powered everything down in the van and locked the door of the barn.
Mr. Bullock, rather than going into to his office, had sat down heavily on the couch in the Day Room. The old ratty couch was covered in a plaid fabric in various shades of what Sandy always thought of as vomit colors. In front of sat it a wooden coffee table with too numerous to count water-ring stains....or beer can stains. An old tube TV sat in the corner on a card table that looked like it would collapse at any second. A battered but working mini-fridge sat squatting between the TV and the door that led out to the bay. Most of the time, the fridge held Sandy’s soft drinks. Sometimes it held Mr. Bullock’s beer, but usually not for long.
Though Mr. Bullock called it the Day Room, Sandy thought that maybe it used to be the shop floor supervisor’s office back in the day when this place had actually manufactured things. This place hadn’t always been a Salvage Yard. Mr. Bullock had said that when he bought the Yard, there was all sorts of machinery in the bay. He’d sold all of it for scrap long before Sandy had shown up. Mr. Bullock hadn’t known what they used to make here. The Yard didn’t make anything anymore. It only survived on the carcasses of dead cars now.
The other half of the room to the right of the bay door held a pool table that looked in good condition. However, in all the time that Sandy had been there, he’d never seen it used nor used it himself.
Mr. Bullock looked the most sober and serious that Sandy had ever seen him. Normally, Mr. Bullock had a closed mouth smile on his face when he wasn’t pretending to be grumpy which would occasionally break out in a flash of almost too white teeth that stood out on his dark brown face. His now mostly grey hair stuck out from under the old, beat up baseball cap.
Sandy didn’t know if it was because of the multiple shocks Mr. Bullock just experienced seeing Sandy’s Bubble Technology, or like he said earlier about it being “the most destructive thing in human history” that made him appear even older and more worn out now. Either way Sandy, was anxious. The secret of Bubble Tech was out. Out only to Mr. Bullock, but it was out and it worried him having the secret known. That Mr. Bullock seemed scared now had Sandy worrying even more.
Sandy stood there waiting, not knowing if he should sit down or stand.
“Sandy… sit down” Mr. Bullock said finally as he looked up from whatever faraway place he had been in his mind. He gestured to the open end of the couch next him.
Sandy walked over slowly and sat down on the edge of the couch, slightly turned towards Mr. Bullock. He was too anxious and worried to lean back and sat ramrod straight.
“Sandy… what did you say earlier about this… that you were going to make some money?” he asked.
“Uhh… yes. There’s so much that could be done with this. I do want to do some more testing and there a couple bugs and things I want to work out,” Sandy replied before more excitedly saying “but, I could make millions… billions… trillions… !”
Mr. Bullock held up his hands to stop her and said “I know, I know, but hold on for a second.”
Sandy stopped talking and turned his head even more so he could look directly at him, an expectant look on his face.
Mr. Bullock sat quietly for a few seconds as if he were collecting his thoughts about where to begin with his concerns, Sandy blurted out, “Mr. Bullock, do you know what this would do for flying? You could go anywhere…” Mr. Bullock interrupted and said “How would you see other Bubbles that were flying too? Invisible, remember?”
Sandy went silent, thinking about what Mr. Bullock had just said. He’d never thought of that simple obvious fact.
“Sandy, I have only been thinking about this for just a few minutes, but even if you could patent it and change the world… help people. And make money, but…” he looked down at his lap “there’s a lot of things that could be bad… the Bubble Tech,” he frowned and paused “That’s what you call it right?”
Sandy smiled slightly and nodded his head.
“The Bubble Tech…” Mr. Bullock continued, “could be used for a lot of evil.”
Sandy frowned at this last comment.
“Remember when we went invisible?” he asked.
“Yes,” Sandy
answered.
“What’s to stop a terrorist from putting a bomb in a Bubble and exploding it somewhere? Anywhere. Or just flying it through buildings destroying it and killing people? Or…” Sandy interjected.
“Mr. Bullock, it’s so huge though! There’s so much stuff that it could do.”
Mr. Bullock was thoughtful for a moment and then said “We can think about this some more. We’ve got time and you’re not 18 yet. What would happen if people found out about all of this?” as he waved his arm outwards to include the barn where the Bubble Van was located. “They’d probably take it away from you. You’re still working on a whole bunch of stuff you said. Keep working on it and we’ll figure out how and when to let people know about this.”
Mr. Bullock turned even more serious and reached out, putting a hand on Sandy’s shoulder. This gesture was unusual, in that it was something he’d only do on a birthday or the odd occasion when Sandy did something good or when he looked like he really needed it.
“Sandy. You have to promise me something. Okay?”
“Sure, Mr. Bullock” Sandy said, the smile returning to his face.
“I’m serious. You have to promise me that you’ll keep it a secret until we figure out what to do. How to keep it safe. How to control it better. Okay?” he asked.
Sandy, seeing Mr. Bullock’s face, stopped smiling and said seriously, “I promise, Mr. Bullock.”
Mr. Bullock looked into Sandy’s eyes and felt it was enough. He trusted Sandy completely.
After a few seconds, Mr. Bullock looked down at his old, battered watch. “You’re late for school, Sandy,” he said.
Uncharacteristically, Mr. Bullock repeated himself: “Remember, Sandy. You promised!” before putting his hand on the arm of the couch and letting out a grunt as he pushed himself up.
“Yes, sir” Sandy said, the smile back on his face. Though he’d been worried and anxious before, it now felt good that finally someone else knew about the Bubble Tech, even if Mr. Bullock had concerns about it. He’d have to think about those concerns. Normally, Sandy was optimistic about people and life. Past experience should have made the reverse true, but it hadn’t.
Sandy really was late. He loved learning new things in school. School would be perfect if it wasn't for some of the people. Some people took joy in the misery of others or pushed themselves up by pushing others down. He’d learned that at school, but there were also so many good things that he got out of it as well.
Most days at school were fine. Some weren’t. It was always hit or miss how the day would be, and Sandy wondered as he drove to school, how this day would turn out. He’d finally shared the secret of Bubble Tech with someone. His other secret would have to stay hidden a while longer. At least until he turned eighteen. It wouldn’t matter after that.
Five
Sandy never missed school unless he absolutely, no way around it, sicker than a dog, had to. He was afraid he’d get caught if “The Authorities” checked on him. That was something he could never allow. They might find out about his other secret besides Bubble Tech. The one he’d been keeping since the ninth grade.
Sandy pulled his truck into the parking lot at school. Since there were so many kids that drove and a limited number of spots, the school held a lottery every year for parking spots. He’d won this year, and was able to get his own spot.
Explaining “Bubble Tech” to Mr. Bullock this morning had made Sandy miss his first class, Spanish, and he was late for the second one. He grabbed his backpack and ran into school. He pushed through one of the doors and turned left into the admin office. The second set of doors that were in front of the ones he just entered would be locked. This was so that anyone coming into the school would have to check in with the admin desk.
Mrs. Neal was working the desk. She was a friendly elderly lady and Sandy had known her since he was in seventh grade when she drove his school bus. Driving a bus had become too much for her to handle, so she changed jobs from driving to working the school admin desk. She didn’t know which was worse: driving the bus that had eventually become too physically hard handling anymore, or dealing emotionally with some of the parents who came in.
“Hi Mrs. Neal!” Sandy greeted her with a broad smile on his face. Mrs. Neal had always been kind to Sandy. She’d always waited for him to make it from his house when she was his driver. She cared about people. She cared about him.
“I’m, uh, late,” he said, the smile slowly disappearing from his face.
“Hi Sandy!” she returned with a smile. She was a tiny lady not much taller than five feet and kept her grey hair short. At least it seemed so since he’d never seen it differently from the small tight bun she always wore.
“I, umm, overslept,” Sandy said apologetically.
“No worries,” Mrs. Neal said, tearing a slip from a pad and writing the date and time down along with Sandy’s name.
“We’ll just say you had an appointment, shall we?” she said as she handed Sandy the slip, giving him another smile and a broad wink as she did so and slapping the back of his hand lightly as he took the note from her.
“Thank you, Mrs. Neal,” Sandy said as he smiled at her and pushed through the other door into the hallway saying back over his shoulder, “Have a nice day, Mrs. Neal, and thanks again” as the door automatically closed behind him he hurried to his Calculus class.
“Such a nice boy,” Mrs. Neal said out loud. Too many kids have no manners, she thought to herself. Her pet peeve especially was the “words” “yah” and “nah”. She hated hearing the kids respond like that, but after hearing so many parents say the same, she understood why. Didn’t like it, but understood.
Sandy reached the door of calculus class. Every door had a small window so that you could see into the class or out into the hallway. Mr. Stader was in front writing on the board. As he turned, he noticed Sandy standing outside. Even though it was hard to imagine the expression on his face could get any more frigid it did.
“By all means come in, Mr. Kane” he said loudly.
Mr. Stader was in his fifties with very black hair that always stank of Grecian Formula. Sandy didn’t know anything else about him, other than that he was very polite to everyone. It wasn’t a good polite, though. Even when whatever he said was accompanied by a smile. His manner was always a condescending politeness accompanied by that smile that lacked any warmth. The type of smile that made you feel like an idiot, or that he was examining you as if you were a revolting bug he was considering stepping on.
Sandy pushed open the door and entered the class. He heard someone say “Candy Cane” from somewhere in the back of the class as he handed Mr. Stader his tardy slip and looked over but couldn’t tell who said it. Probably Nick. Nick was on the hockey team, was going out with Tasha and knew, at least according to himself, that he was “the man.” He wasn’t much of a jerk most of the time. Just some of the time. Sandy didn’t really know too much about him because he himself wasn’t one of the popular kids. Sandy didn’t like him because of the popularity or being a jerk sometimes, but rather, because Nick was Tasha’s boyfriend. Tasha was… special, to Sandy.
Mr. Stader examined the note intently and then stood there motionless, until Sandy was completely settled at his desk and then waited a few moments more, drawing out the uncomfortable silence even more until finally turning back to the board and continuing the class.
“Get stuck in Candyland, Candy Cane?” Nick asked, a crooked grin on his face. It was loud enough for everyone else to hear and there were some laughs at the lame insult.
Sandy’s first name was Henry. No one ever called him that though. He’d been named for his paternal grandfather. His middle name was Alessandro which was his maternal grandfather’s name. Sandy wasn’t sure how he felt about that name either.
Sandy remembered his dad once drunkenly telling him about how he’d been named. “Your mother insisted that you be called by those names. That you had to be named after my dad and her dad. I hated my dad, so hell if
I’ll ever call you Henry.” Sandy’s dad said he also hated foreigners, even though he married one. “Hell if I was going to call you Alessandro either” his dad had drunkenly said.
So, Henry Alessandro became “Sandy.” Sandy Kane. Which quickly became Candy Cane amongst the pre-teens and teens of the school. Most of the time, it didn’t bother Sandy being called that. Sometimes it did. Sometimes it did a lot. Especially when it was said in front of Tasha
“Mr. Bergstrum, despite your hero status in the game last night against Buffalo, it does not give you permission to disrupt the room,” Mr. Stader said. He said it with a fractionally warmer smile than usual and turned back to the board without any other admonishment.
He continued on with what he had been writing prior to Sandy's arrival. He did not spend the next five minutes ripping Nick a new one for interrupting like he had others in the past. This was highly, highly unusual. No one ever got away with “outbursts” in one of Mr. Stader’s classes. The students, Sandy included, looked at each other in surprise.
Sandy tried to figure this out and thought, Mr. Stader loves hockey, I guess. Looking at Mr. Stader’s back as he wrote, he continued to think about it. I guess you can get away with all sorts of things if you are the hero. I guess you could get whatever you want. Easier grading for one thing. Nick is getting an A in this class and he just isn’t that bright. Nick also has Tasha. “Nick the Hero” has Tasha. If I were a hero could I…?
Sandy had the beginnings of an idea. Could he use the Bubble Tech to be a hero? He wouldn’t be breaking his promise to Mr. Bullock about keeping it a secret if he were to help people without anyone knowing. He wouldn’t tell Tasha, but she would know… eventually… when the world finally knew about it.
Excited with this idea, Sandy had a hard time paying attention in class. At the end of the period, he made a mental note to review the material again on his own. He always did anyway, even without a mental note. He’d been a straight-A student all through high school so far. Ever since he had started to keep his secret.