Bubble Tech

by Thomas Babak

  Mr. Bullock and Tasha looked at one another, both smiling. He jumped up quickly, scrubbing his eyes as he did so. An even larger smile broke out on his face and he walked quickly around his desk wiping his hand on his trouser leg before holding it out to shake her hand.

  “Tasha, this is Mr. Bullock, my…” Sandy hesitated for a second or two trying to figure out just what Mr. Bullock was. Boss, friend, mentor, guardian? Taking into consideration all Mr. Bullock had done for him over the ears, Sandy finished with, “my stepdad.” Mr. Bullock’s smile faltered for a fraction of second but then came on stronger than before, if possible.

  “Sandy!” A mock scowl flitting across his face “You said she was pretty but she is more beautiful than you ever described, Mr. Bullock was still shaking Tasha’s hand. Sandy had never said any such thing, but didn’t deny it. He still looked at Tasha, who smiled even more radiantly.

  “It is very nice to meet you, young lady,” Mr. Bullock said.

  “You too, Mr. Bullock. Sandy talks about you all the time,” Tasha replied.

  Mr. Bullock finally released her hand. As he turned to Sandy, the smile on his face shrunk noticeably.

  “I need to talk to you, Sandy,” he said seriously.

  Sandy turned serious as well. “Is it about last night, Mr. Bullock?” Sandy asked.

  Mr. Bullock glanced at Tasha and then said, “Yes.”

  “Tasha knows, Mr. Bullock. She figured it out herself. She recognized my van,” Sandy said slightly sheepishly.

  Mr. Bullocks demeanor turned completely serious. It wiped the smiles off of both Tasha’s and Sandy’s faces.

  “Okay,” Mr. Bullock said turning away and walking back to his chair before facing them again.

  “We’ll talk about it later. We’ll all talk about it. It really is nice meeting you, Tasha” a smile cracking his face as he looked at her. She smiled tentatively back.

  “You going to show her around, Sandy?” he asked some normalcy returning to the tension that had just been in the room.

  “Yes, sir,” Sandy answered.

  “Go on then. We’ll talk later. You have more important things to do than waste time with an old man when you have a beautiful lady on your arm.”

  The smiles returned to both Sandy’s and Tasha’s faces and Sandy said “Okay. See you later” as he led Tasha out into the hallway and closed Mr. Bullock’s office door. He turned to Tasha and said, “He likes you,” with a mischievous grin.

  “I know!” Tasha chuckled back.

  Sandy led her down to the Day Room and then down into the bay. He showed her his workshop but there wasn’t much to see. Sandy had spent a lot of time in there when he stumbled across Bubble Tech and been experimenting to see what he could do with it. Now, it was sort of dank and abandoned looking.

  As she walked across the barn, Tasha stopped and looked over the Yard. All the abandoned junked cars made her sad despite the spring sunshine.

  Sandy, still holding her hand, had stopped when she did. “Coming?” Sandy asked while giving her hand a quick couple squeezes.

  “Yes,” she answered as she squeezed back.

  Sandy walked her to the barn door, unlocked it. He led her inside and flipped the light switch on. His Grandpa’s camper van sat up on the platform where he’d left it last night. They walked over and Tasha said, “It looks different somehow.”

  “I made some modifications,” Sandy said.

  “So…what does it do…how did you make it fly?” she asked as she stared at the van.

  Sandy dug into his pocket for his keys. He reached out and took Tasha’s hand again. “Watch,” he said as he pressed a button on the black key fob.

  There was a loud pop and blue liquid light converged over the van, almost too fast for the eye to follow and the van disappeared. Tasha almost fell back, but Sandy grasping her hand kept her steady.

  “Oh my gosh!” she exclaimed.

  Sandy pressed another button and the van reappeared and dropped a few inches to the platform, rocking and creaking before settling to silence. Tasha had flinched again but not as badly as when it had disappeared.

  She squealed and yelled, “Oh my gosh, that was amazing! I thought it could only fly. Do it again!”

  Sandy did it again making her laugh and smile.

  “Want to go for a ride?” Sandy asked walking to the passenger side of the van and walking up the platform steps, opening the door for Tasha.

  “Yes, please!” Tasha exclaimed. She scampered up and into the van.

  Sandy laughed and closed the door. He walked back down the steps and around the van and unplugged the extension cord from the van’s side socket. Getting in himself, he began the power up process and said “Don’t touch anything, please.” She just nodded her head. Her hands were already clasped in her lap.

  Sandy got back out and raised the barn door and while he walked back to get inside the van, Tasha sat there quietly. She looked around and noticed the stuffed hippo wedged in between a couple monitors. She realized it was hers and stroked it once and smiled. As Sandy got in, she reached out and squeezed his shoulder.

  In less than a minute or so, the main screen displayed “No Errors or Alerts.” Sandy closed the dialogue box and changed the mode on the stick to Driving and moved the van down off the ramp and out into the Yard. Usually he flew it out, but he’d go slow with Tasha. He didn’t want to scare her.

  “Put your seatbelt on,” he said suddenly as he buckled his own. He’d forgotten.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  Tasha just nodded her head, excited.

  Sandy switched modes to Bubble and activated it. There was a pop, not as loud as it had been outside the van, and the van rose a few inches.

  “We’re invisible now. Ready?” he asked again smiling at Tasha. She smiled back and nodded.

  Sandy reached forward and pushed the Thruster while manipulating the stick. Nothing but girlish squeals came from Tasha for the next fifteen minutes. He took her for a quick spin around Maple Lake, darted over to the Cities and back and then returned to the barn. Mr. Bullock’s car was gone when they got back. Sandy guessed they would have that conversation later when Tasha wasn’t around.

  On the drive back home, Tasha was emotionally drained but still excited. She couldn’t believe what she had just done. What Sandy had created.

  “Sandy, you’ve got to do something with this! You’d make millions… billions… trillions!” she blurted out repeating what Sandy himself had said to Mr. Bullock not long ago.

  “I know, I know, but hold on for a second,” before she could continue.

  Tasha stopped talked and looked at him expectantly.

  As he collected his thoughts about where to begin with his concerns and his promise to keep Bubble Tech secret until it could be controlled, Tasha blurted out “Sandy, do you know what this would do for people? You could fly anywhere…”

  Sandy jumped in and said “How would you see other Bubbles that were flying too? They’re invisible, remember?” It was Mr. Bullock’s argument that he'd made to Sandy not too long ago.

  Tasha grew quiet, considering the question.

  “Tasha, I have been thinking about this a lot. I’ve been thinking about a whole lot of things. I thought I could patent it and change the world. How Bubble Tech could help people. And how it could make money, but…” he looked down at his lap “there’s a lot of things that could be bad…it could be used for a lot of evil stuff.” Tasha frowned.

  “Remember when I went invisible?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Tasha answered.

  Using another one of Mr. Bullock’s arguments, Sandy said, “What’s to stop a terrorist from putting a bomb in the Bubble and exploding it somewhere? Or just flying it through buildings destroying it and killing people? Or…”

  Tasha interjected. “Sandy, it’s so huge though! There’s so much good stuff that it could do. Like the people you rescued from the fire.”

  Sandy was thoughtful for a moment and then said “We’ve
got time and I’m not 18 yet. What would happen if people found out about all of this?” waving his arm around to encompass the Bubble Tech they were talking about. “They’d probably take it away from me. And I’m still working on a whole bunch of stuff. I need time to figure some things out,” he finished sort of lamely.

  Tasha remained quiet, thinking about what Sandy had said.

  Sandy turned very serious and reached out. He took Tasha’s hand in his own and looked back and forth between her and the road.

  “Tasha. You have to promise me something. Okay?”

  “Sure Sandy,” she said with a smile.

  “I’m serious. I promised Mr. Bullock and 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.

  Tasha stopped smiling and said, “I promise, Sandy.”

  He looked into her eyes and felt it was enough. He trusted her completely. He always had.

  Pulling onto their street, Sandy noticed a large dark SUV parked in front of his house. As he got closer he noticed a dark-suited man standing at his door. He pulled into the driveway and immediately noticed another dark-suited man that had just turned around from peeking through the garage window.

  As Sandy parked, the man by the garage began to walk towards them.

  “Don’t say anything” Sandy whispered and they both got out and walked towards the front porch.

  The man on the porch stood there waiting for them. Sandy and Tasha climbed the porch and headed to the front door. The man stepped back a couple feet, keeping a little distance between them, and pulled out a leather folio with a small badge and identification. “Special Agent Ramirez. FBI. Is this the Kane residence?” He said it in a bored, rehearsed tone.

  “Yes,” Sandy answered hesitantly.

  “Are your parent’s home? We’d like to ask them a few questions,” he said in the same serious, but bored, tone.

  By this time, the other agent had circled the house and was standing behind them at the base of the porch steps with one foot on the first step.

  “No. Is there something I can help you with?” Sandy answered feeling as if they could tell he was lying.

  “We’re looking for a van registered to Henry R. Kane. Do you know where we can reach him?” he asked.

  “That’s my Grandpa, sir,” Sandy said quietly.

  “Yes…” he responded expectantly.

  “He died before I was born, sir,” Sandy said.

  The agent looked down at the other agent. Both Sandy and Tasha did too. The other agent just shrugged.

  Sandy turned back to Agent Ramirez who asked “What’s your name?” he asked.

  “Sandy. Sandy Kane,” Sandy answered.

  A subtle smirk lifted the corner of Agent Ramirez’s mouth as he wrote down the name. “Do you know anything about a Dodge van?”

  The smirk at his name caused some anger to rise up in Sandy and he responded more firmly, “Sir, my Grandpa died two years before I was born. I never knew him.”

  The agent stared at Sandy for three to four seconds. Sandy stared back. He flipped his notebook closed and said “Thank you for your time sir” and walked down the stairs. His partner had already turned and was heading back to the SUV. Sandy and Tasha watched them drive off before they went inside.

  It wasn’t until they were inside with the door closed and locked that Sandy started shaking slightly. Until that moment, even during and after the dump truck incident, rescuing the boys and the fire it hadn’t really hit him about the seriousness of the technology he invented. Now it had.

  He looked at Tasha and she looked backed and asked, “Sandy, what are we going to do?”

  Sandy thought about it. There was no other option for now. He’d stop trying to be a hero. If he was really being honest with himself, he’d only tried playing the hero to impress Tasha. Since she was his girlfriend and living with him now, he didn’t need to play the hero any longer. He hadn’t been very good at it, anyway, and it would only expose him eventually. He’d hide the Bubble Tech, maybe sit on it for a few years. He would figure out how to control it so it would be safe. So it couldn’t be used for evil things. Then maybe when he’d done that he would bring Bubble Tech out and introduce it to the world.

  He found himself looking at the floor as he thought about Tasha’s question and what the answer could be. Should be.

  “We keep it secret. We need to keep it secret until I can figure out things anyway. Can you promise me that?” he asked.

  Tasha came over and hugged Sandy. She whispered into his chest, “Of course, Sandy. I promise.”

  In bed that night with Tasha asleep and snuggled in his arm, Sandy lay there awake with too many questions and concerns racing through his mind. Would it work to hide the Bubble Tech and not do anything with it for a few years? He’d just reconnected with Tasha. Would everything happening with his technology in the news and the FBI asking questions affect their newfound relationship? What else should he do? Could he do? These questions ran through his mind mostly unanswered until he finally fell asleep.

  Twenty-Seven

  Deputy Under Secretary Kathleen “Kate” Phillips, the head of the Office of Coordination and Communication, had her small jet escorted from the commercial side of the Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport to the Air Force Reserve base abutting and on the opposite side of the commercial runways. The sun was just rising and there was a slight chill still in the air.

  With the engines off, the jet turbines winding down and the door open, she stepped outside and was met by Travis and Dr. Fossberg. Dr. Fossberg was the team lead for the scientific aspects of the “Flying Van” case. He was a “resource” that Kate had stumbled across several years before and utilized on several occasions where his intelligence and project management capabilities were needed for cases with scientific implications. His avarice and lack of empathy were assets, rather than deficits, for these cases. He normally worked as a tenured professor of physics at George Washington University until called upon by the OCC. He was rather good-looking in most women’s opinions and he was almost forty years old, but he’d never been married. His few relationships never lasted very long, either. This longevity rate may have had something to do with the fact that he creeped out everyone he met with his odd personality.

  Jenkins followed Kate out of the jet. His yawn created a fog in the chilly air and an involuntary shiver shook his body. He wasn’t a morning person. Both he and Kate had been up most of the night and had only napped on the flight to the Twin Cities.

  A black SUV took them to the Reserve headquarters and where they walked into the building to an upstairs conference room while Jenkins, Travis and Dr. Fossberg talked. No one chatted with Kate as they all made their way from the tarmac to the conference room. They knew better than to waste her time and interrupt her thoughts with anything besides business.

  Once settled around the large table in the Air Force Reserve HQ conference room, Kate took a deep breath and leaned back in the Commander’s oversize leather executive chair. Travis and another man whose name Kate couldn’t remember sat on her left side. The man’s real name was complicated and he had assumed for various missions many names that changed over time, and, like Fossberg, was a resource brought in only when needed. He was a hard, dangerous-looking man, someone that people did not want to aggravate, let alone anger.

  Kate’s hands laid flat on the wood grain of the conference table. She looked at Travis to begin.

  Travis, the only one smiling at the table, said, “the FBI has narrowed down, from their own investigations and the info from Jenkins, to three vehicles of the year, make and model we’re looking for that have ever been associated with Minnesota. The best candidate is this one.” He slid the tablet sitting in front of him across to Kate.

  Kate looked down. She saw photos of trees and junked cars along the top half of the screen. The bottom half contained a summary of people, location and relevant information of
the target. “Okay. Anything else?” she asked, looking up and staring back at him. Still smiling, Travis nodded no.

  “This facility?” she asked.

  The smile left Travis’s face. He’d forgotten to include the Air Force Reserve buildings. “We’ve got it as long as we need it,” he said flatly.

  Kate stared at him a few seconds and then shifted her glance to the hard man sitting next to Travis. He spoke clearly and succinctly. “My people will be here at eleven hundred. All our equipment either is in place here or will be when they arrive. We will be ready to go when you give the green light,” he finished.

  Kate shifted her eyes to the right side of the table, over to Jenkins. He had his tablet laying in front of him. He glanced down at the screen and began hesitantly.

  “Yeah…umm…we’ve lost containment on media with the fire incident. Too many videos by people with camera phones. Too many witnesses. I’m not sure even if we could have gagged the news and emergency services people. There were just too many witnesses and it was just fantastic. It was amazing…” He’d been talking to the group but glancing at Kate’s stone faced expression he lowered his voice that had gotten louder and more excited as he spoke.

  “Umm…videos went national within minutes and international soon after that. At the peak, the clips occupied 87% of news and Internet cycles and trends. I’ve got analysts working on the best way to spin it to mitigate perception. It’s out now. We’ll work to minimize or mold to our objectives. We have several packages that will be ready to go depending on which way we… you want it.” He slid his finger to the left across the top off the screen. After glancing briefly at the information there, he looked up and continued.

  “The videos did help to identify the van. It’s a 1971 Dodge Xplorer 21 RV. As Travis mentioned, we narrowed it down to three vehicles, all unaccounted for, that have been associated with Minnesota. I kept the scope to Minnesota, since that is the epicenter of activity but I can expand this search if needed. As of six this morning, we’ve eliminated one. It was found in Texas. The other two that are missing haven’t been registered in over twenty years. The target has the highest likelihood of being our man… uhhh… van.” He looked down, swiped his finger and looked back up saying, “Interviews from the people rescued from the fire describe the driver of the Flying…” (he hesitated, he’d already been reprimanded once by Kate for using ‘Flying Van’) “THE Van, as being male, between five foot six and six foot six, in his twenties and mostly white.”