by Alex Schuler
Gary’s bright reddish-blond hair had earned him the nickname “Rusty” in his younger days. He was an imposing figure, standing 6’4” and built like a linebacker. His head was a bit small for his frame, and his hands oversized. These odd features gave him the appearance of being physically larger than he was. At fifty years old, most of his hair—cropped short since his military days—had begun turning white, though his beard and trademark handlebar mustache still had bits of red mixed in with the white and gray.
DSU, based in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, had campuses on three continents. The Pennsylvania campus comprised over fifty buildings spread across one hundred acres. The robotics lab, unlike many of the historic structures housing classrooms and students, had the appearance of an abandoned automotive repair shop. The two-story cream-colored concrete building had four standard-sized garages on one side, and one on the other side big enough for a semi-truck. The windows, original to the 1950s building, did little to keep the brutally cold winter temperatures from seeping in. Inside, a massive workshop floor was offset with a few small classrooms.
Turning from the windows, Rusty looked across the second-floor workroom to the line of desks in the opposite corner. Harry Palmer and Lori Preston, two of his students, were quietly at work with their heads down, eyes focused on their multi-screen terminals. Above them, the walls were covered with printouts of project plans and schedules. A white poster with black lettering hung on the wall behind them:
caution—m.a.d. robots at work
The periods had been hand-drawn as lightning bolts and the letters rendered from parts of robotic arms. M.A.D. stood for “Mobile Autonomous Development” and the project name, M.A.D. Robots, proudly appeared on screen savers, signs, T-shirts, and bags.
Rusty walked over to the two at the terminals. For such a large man, his approach was silent, despite the slight limp that often plagued his right leg. He paused less than a foot from Harry, a young bald African American man, and stared over his shoulder.
“Is there a problem?” Rusty asked.
“Shit!” Harry jumped in his chair, knocked over a cup of coffee, and spilled it across a pile of papers. He grabbed a stack of napkins to mop it up. “No. No problem at all.”
“Really?” Rusty spun Harry’s chair around. “Then, why is my project plan covered in red?”
Harry kept his head down and glanced over at Lori, a few feet away. Lori maintained her focus on her work, ignoring the conversation.
“Don’t look at her!” Rusty bellowed. “Look at me.”
“I’m on track,” Harry replied as he stared at his clasped hands. He adjusted his eyeglasses and looked up at Rusty. “So is Lori.”
“Not according to my project plan.”
“We’re not at fault,” Lori said as she calmly pushed back from her desk. “The problem is the hardware.”
Rusty took a few steps back to place himself equally between Harry and Lori. He folded his arms and stared down at his two students.
Lori was not the least bit intimidated by Rusty. Having studied at MIT, she’d transferred to DSU to get her master’s degree. The always calm twenty-three-year-old relished the challenge before her. She rarely smiled, yet her bright red hair and freckled face gave the appearance of just another sweet girl-next-door.
“Harry’s software and my mapping programs are both on track,” Lori said. “The hardware team keeps changing their configurations. Every time they do, we need to make adjustments. Our delays are due to theirs.”
“So, you’re throwing Nico and his team under the bus?” Rusty asked.
“More like under the Hummer,” Harry said with a chuckle.
“Do you find all of this to be a joke?” Rusty asked as he leaned down toward Harry. “I didn’t enter us in the DARPA FAST Challenge for fun. This isn’t just another learning opportunity. This is one of the greatest challenges the military has ever put out there.”
Rusty’s face was mere inches from Harry’s, his hot breath cascading across the nervous student’s glasses. Harry kept his eyes focused on the floor, bracing for Rusty’s punishing loudness.
“It’s the shaking,” Lori said calmly.
Rusty stood upright and turned his attention back to Lori.
“The sensors on the Hummer can’t take the pounding from the off-road terrain,” Lori said. “We haven’t even gotten to real-world testing yet, but all the simulations show failure. They keep making tweaks, or in some cases, changing the tech.”
“They?” Rusty asked. “You mean Nico’s team?”
Lori and Harry nodded in unison.
“Nico,” Rusty said with disdain. “I should have known.”
“We’re only a few months into this.” Lori crossed her arms defensively and leaned back in her chair. “In my opinion, we’re doing our best.”
“Well, your best isn’t good enough.” Rusty spun on his heel and marched to the exit.
He shoved the door open hitting the damp, stale air of the hallway and descended the stairs to the main level. As he made his way down, he favored his bad leg and gripped the handrail for support. He went past the door that led outside and barreled toward the entry to the workshop floor. Grabbing the door and whipping it open, Rusty slammed it against the backstop—the rattle of the metal door sending shockwaves throughout the garage.
Nico Lee was standing with a group of five other students next to the Hummer, holding a clipboard and reviewing a task list with his team. At the sound of the door, everyone stopped talking and turned to see Rusty stomping his way across the garage. One by one, they took a step away from Nico, until the Chinese American student stood alone beside the Humvee.
Rusty stopped a few feet from the hulking military vehicle to study the gear strapped to the roof. The DSU team had spent the past few weeks installing multiple sensor arrays on top of the old Humvee. The equipment would be used for mapping terrain and controlling the robotics yet to be installed.
“Harry and Lori tell me we have a problem down here,” Rusty said as he shifted his gaze to Nico. “Do we?”
“Nothing that can’t be solved,” Nico replied flatly. He glanced back at his fellow team members as they inched away from him. Absentmindedly, Nico pulled a pen from his clipboard and began twirling it between his thumb and fingers. “We just need more time.”
“Time is something we don’t have. What’s the delay?”
Nico stepped past Rusty and grasped a door handle to haul his lean frame up the side of the Humvee, balancing his right foot on a small step stool. The roof of the vehicle was covered in a series of metal support struts running front to back and across the top. A variety of sensors and cameras were secured to the rigging. He slapped his hand against a large black conical sensor attached to the front beam.
“This lidar unit is overly sensitive. I know you’ve used it on other robots, but speeding across the desert opens up a whole new set of variables.”
“Why are you talking to me like I don’t know what we’re up against?” Rusty stepped closer to Nico. Despite the young student’s perch several inches off the ground, Rusty was still able to look him in the eye. “I’ve built robots to explore mines, nuclear reactors, volcanoes, and other planets! Are you trying to teach me about lidar?”
“No. No, I’m not.” Nico glanced up at the second-floor office windows to see Lori and Harry watching the drama unfold. He turned his attention back to Rusty. “All I meant was that adapting the sensors to work at high speed is proving to be a real challenge.”
“That’s why it’s called the FAST Challenge, Nico. If it were easy, it would’ve been done by now.” As he finished his last words, Rusty abruptly spun and began walking back to the stairwell door. He looked up and glared at Lori and Harry before turning to face the students scattered throughout the garage. “All of you need to start thinking outside the box. The solutions of the past will not work with what lies
ahead of us. I expect nothing but perfection from all of you. If you can’t cut it here, then I’m sure Berkeley or Princeton or some other shit school will be happy to take your second-rate talent. Our goal is to win this event. Win! Coming in second is not an option.”
Nico lowered his head as he gently stepped off the stool. He walked over to the rest of his teammates huddled at the back of the Humvee.
“Nico,” Rusty continued. “If you can’t find a way to smooth out the readings from those sensors, I’ll find someone who can.”
Rusty shook his head in disgust as he again marched to the stairwell door and back upstairs to the second floor, pausing briefly to rub his throbbing right hip. Once inside the second-floor workroom, he found Harry and Lori back at their workstations. Rusty said nothing as he took a seat at his desk and picked up the phone. He opened a faded red leather contact book to the tab marked “F” and ran his finger across the list. Rusty smiled as he dialed the number and waited for the call to connect.
“Hello,” said Kyle Fisher.
“Mr. Fisher,” Rusty said as he leaned back in his chair. “How nice of you to take my call.”
“Rusty! I saw the area code and had a feeling it might be you. Not many people have my personal cell number. How are things at DSU?”
“An endless joy as always,” Rusty replied. He glanced across the room to confirm neither Harry nor Lori were listening to his conversation. “I’m calling in a favor, Kyle.”
“You name it.”
“Have you heard about the new FAST Challenge DARPA announced?”
“DARPA?”
“The military’s research group. Defense Advanced—”
“I know what DARPA is, Rusty. I also know all about the challenge they’re doing.”
“Perfect. I knew you’d be the man to call. DSU has entered the challenge, and I plan on winning the event.”
“Rusty, I need to stop you right there. I can’t talk to you about the event.”
“Why not? It’s a desert race. Who better to advise me than the guy who created an empire on building desert-racing vehicles? You’re the go-to guy on this stuff, Kyle.”
“And that’s the problem, Rusty. DARPA beat you to it. They came to me to help them design the Challenge.”
There was a long pause before Rusty finally spoke.
“Well, shit, Kyle. I mean, congratulations to you, I guess. But that doesn’t help me.”
“Sorry, Rusty. I’ve been working with them for the past year. In the beginning, they just wanted me to advise them on the race portion. I ended up designing all three challenges planned for the competition coming in two years.”
“I assume you’ve been well paid for your services?”
“We just expanded our headquarters here in San Diego.”
“How many millions are you worth now?”
“I have my own plane.”
“Of course you do.” Rusty shook his head in amazement but also felt a bit of pride for his longtime friend. “Wait. San Diego? So you’ve shut down San Luis?”
“No, I still have a workshop there. I have a dozen development shops around the globe now.”
“You’ve come a long way from those days we used to hang out in Yuma.”
“I took you to your first Baja 1000 race, didn’t I?”
“Indeed, you did.” Rusty grinned as his mind recalled the adventure he’d had with Kyle. “I remember the tequila bars more than the races.”
“Those were good times in Arizona, Rusty. How many years were you stationed with the Marines in Yuma?”
“Long enough to have seen three Baja races with you and saved your ass from at least a dozen bar fights.”
“I never could hold my tequila,” Kyle said with a chuckle. “You were a good friend. You still are, Rusty. Look, I won’t be able to give you any info about the FAST competition. But tell me why you called. I’ll do my best to help in any way I can, without breaking the rules.”
“You know my history with robots.”
“Of course I do. You’re a legend.”
“The issue we’re having has to do with speed. The sensors we’re using are fantastic when you’ve got a robot crawling at one mile per hour across the rim of a volcano. They don’t do so well when going forty miles per hour across rough roads. I thought you might have something in your catalog we could maybe adapt to our vehicle.”
“That’s a tough one. It would depend on how stable you need the equipment to be.”
“We’re struggling to nail that down ourselves.” Rusty stood up and walked over to the bank of windows overlooking the lab. He glared at Nico now leaning over the roof of the Humvee. “Unfortunately, I can’t give you specifications. Not yet, anyway.”
Rusty waited for him to reply. He could hear Kyle clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. It was something he did when he was lost in thought. Rusty took this as a good sign.
“I might have something for you, Rusty. Actually, someone.”
“I’m listening.”
“I’ve got a guy you might like. In fact, you might love him. He works at one of my development sites outside Reno. He’s fresh out of college. The kid is brilliant. He can build just about anything. I’m amazed at some of the things he designs. The guy’s a great problem-solver, too. Customers are starting to ask for him by name.”
“If he’s so brilliant, what’s he doing working on desert-racers?”
“Listen, Rusty. This guy isn’t some grease monkey. He got his engineering degree from the University of Michigan. I don’t know why he hasn’t started working on his graduate degree yet. Trust me. You want this guy. Hold on while I get his number.”
“So, you’re just willing to give him up?” Rusty sat back down at his desk and grabbed a pen and piece of paper. “That’s not like you, Kyle.”
“Like you said, Rusty, you saved my ass many times. Besides, as much as I love him, I feel his talent is going to waste at my shop. It’s only a matter of time before this kid realizes just how good he is. The DARPA Challenge might be a wake-up call for him. Give him a buzz. Talk to him. Pick his brain. Then you can decide for yourself.”
“I’m going to need to do more than just talk to him, Kyle. I want to see what he’s built and how he thinks. I run a tight ship. Although I trust your judgment, I’m going to need more than just your word. The DARPA project is going to be intense. We’re going to be breaking boundaries. I need to know he can handle it. Most people can’t handle me.”
“I won’t argue with that. Then you need to get to Reno. The shop is about an hour or so outside of the city, near Pyramid Lake.”
“Give me the details, Kyle. I’ll fly out as soon as possible.”
5
Rusty stood at the entrance to the Fisher Tuner workshop and stared at the bright lime-green face of Frankenstein inscribed across the hood of the Pontiac Trans Am. The wind ballooned and rippled his olive-green T-shirt, and the intense rays of the desert sun made the seventy-degree temperature feel warmer than it was. The weather was a nice change from the cold front he had left behind in Pittsburgh.
Kevin Hallaway emerged from the restroom, wiping his hands across the back of his jeans. He looked up at the imposing figure standing in front of Frankie at the edge of the garage. Kevin glanced over at Ted sitting at his workbench, earbuds in. He sighed and headed to the front of the bay.
“I’m Rusty,” Rusty said as he stepped forward and extended his hand.
“Been expecting you,” Kevin said. The two men shook hands briefly. “I’m Kevin. The boss said you’d be here around noon today. I see you’re punctual. When did you get in?”
“Yesterday. I fly back tonight. Red-eye.”
“Quick trip. Come on in. Ted’s in the back.”
He led Rusty past the old Pontiac to the workbench at the back of the garage. Ted seemed oblivious to wh
at was going on behind him. An Apple iPod rested beside his keyboard. The black music player with the red click wheel was the U2 Special Edition iPod Apple had recently released. The white headphone cord swayed as Ted bopped his head back and forth to the strains of Blue Öyster Cult’s “(Don’t Fear) The Reaper.”
“Ted!” Kevin yelled as he flung a roll of duct tape, hitting Ted on the back of his head. Luckily, the roll was almost used up.
Ted yanked his earbuds out and tapped pause on his iPod. He spun around in his chair and stared at Kevin and then looked beyond him at the behemoth standing behind him.
“Ted, this is Rusty. The guy Kyle told us about.”
Ted stood up and stepped forward to shake Rusty’s hand. Rusty was silent as he kept his eyes locked on Ted’s and grasped the young man’s thin-fingered hand. Ted continued to smile as Rusty increased his grip.
“Welcome to nowhere,” Ted said. He relaxed his hand and waited for Rusty to let go. “It’s nice to meet you.”
An awkward silence followed as Rusty said nothing and folded his arms across his chest. He towered over both men standing in front of him. Rusty could see that Kevin felt uncomfortable, but Ted seemed relaxed. Aloof even. Rusty turned his attention to the Toyota Tacoma on the lift in the adjoining bay.
“I’m not sure what Kyle told you about me,” Rusty said, his eyes turned to the truck’s sophisticated suspension system. “He’s said good things about you, Ted, and the work you do here. Is that one of yours?”
“The Taco is mine,” Kevin said. He walked over to the truck and slapped the passenger’s side door but then pointed at the Pontiac behind Rusty. “That one belongs to Ted.”
Rusty raised his right eyebrow as he briefly studied the heavily customized Trans Am. He shook his head in confusion and returned his gaze upon Ted.
“I’m sure Kyle told you I head up the robotics group at DSU,” Rusty said. “But my work goes beyond the education offered at the school. I’ve worked with NASA and other government and private firms to design and build custom robots.”