by Tim Blagge
“To continue,” Pops began again, “when we have a functioning prototype – one that someone could use or reverse engineer; we need to hide it in the bomb shelter when we’re not playing with it. If word of this gets out, we could have half the crooked world crawling around here trying to get it. And you may not agree with me now, but your contraption is a world changing bit of engineering. We can’t trust anyone and we must take every precaution we can think of to keep it out of the wrong hands.”
“OK, Pops, I’ll play it your way for now.” I said. “But before you start on rebuilding the damaged parts, I had an idea that might make the machine more controllable and allow us to be able to test a wider range of variables. I’ll draw up the changes and let you look at them.”
-5-
About three months later I finished the engineering drawings for the new and improved Flying Wallenda. Pops had suggested I quit the In-N-Out Burger so I could concentrate on my studies which I did. It was hard because I had become friends with several of the workers there. What I wouldn’t miss was being called Burger Nerd instead of Bill.
“I think I’ve finally finished the new drawings Pops.” I said.
“Well I should hope so. It’s only been three months.” Pops responded wryly.
“I know. I think the Professors at school have been trying to kill me with work. But I showed them, those ‘rascally varmints’ that killing Chief Billy Smart Ass was harder than they thought.”
“When did you start doing Elmer Fudd impressions?” Pops asked.
“Just now, weird huh? Sorry, I guess I’m a little giddy. I’m caught up at school and I finished my revised drawings of the Flying Wallenda. Life is good!”
And life was good. A few weeks later I was offered an internship at JPL. JPL, the Jet Propulsion Lab is associated with Cal-Tech and is also related to NASA. JPL designed much of the now retired Space Shuttle program and currently was working on new projects in future space travel. The job was 20 hours per week, leaving time for my studies while earning a modest salary. It had been Dr. Cummings, my primary faculty mentor, who helped me get the job.
“Dr. Cummings, I can’t thank you enough for getting me the job at JPL. I think it will be right up my alley.”
“I think so too, Bill.” said Dr. Cummings. “I had to pull some strings because your grades aren’t as high as some of our other seniors. However I believe you are a better fit for a current project they are working on. Your approach to problems, even though they are sometimes a little off- target are unique. It shows you don’t look at problems exactly like most of the rest of us. This is the kind of thinking I thought this project at JPL calls for.”
“I’m really excited about this opportunity Dr. Cummings, but the guy who interviewed me, Dr. Blackburn is a little strange. Have you met him?”
“Oh yes. Malcolm and I go back over 20 years when we worked together at JPL and before I came to Cal-tech to teach. He is a little strange but brilliant too. I think once you get to know him, you’ll be fast associates. I don’t say friends because to my knowledge, Blackburn doesn’t have any.”
For the final two quarters of my senior year, I studied hard and got the best grades I’d gotten at Cal-Tech ever. Initially at JPL, I was little more than Dr. Blackburn’s errand boy. He’d given me a few mathematical calculations to dabble with but after a short time, I had become a solid member of his design team. His, and now our project was to conceive and design a better rocket engine; an engine that could create twice the thrust out of an equivalent amount of fuel than current designs. If successful it would give our space vehicles roughly twice the range they currently have. The goal was to power manned flights to closer planets like Mars.
I wanted to tell Dr. Cummings about the Flying Wallenda but I had promised Pops to keep silent until we were sure it worked. Then we would have to figure out how to introduce it to the rest of world without creating the chaos that Pops feared.
So I kept quiet and did my work as directed. My education in Materials Science made me a good candidate to assist in what Dr. Blackburn referred to as ‘plasma fuel’. This concept, which he developed, would combine a controlled plasma gas with more traditional rocket fuels to produce according to him a ‘super fuel’. The theory had merit but the time required to do the experimentation and testing looked to be years or decades long. Plus, the testing of his theory could be very dangerous, so experiments needed to be designed with extreme caution to prevent blowing something up unintentionally. However it was a job in my field, and it was quite challenging.
-6-
About that same time, Jerry came home on leave and when we reconnected, I couldn’t believe how much I’d missed him. Before he arrived, I thought back to an earlier time to what felt like a different life.
Jerry Smith was my best friend. He lived just down the street from my parents’ house in Pasadena and we met at the age of four and became fast friends.
Jerry was a big kid for his age, had light brown hair and a trim body. Over the years, where I was going in a more academic direction, Jerry became an exceptional athlete, particularly in football. He always seemed happy and developed a wonderful joking sense of humor and the other kids adored him for it.
Jerry and I decided to meet in front of the high school on our first day as freshmen.
“Hi Bill,” Jerry said. “Let’s compare schedules. Maybe we’ll have some classes together.”
As Jerry looked at my schedule he moaned a little. “Bill you’ve got all smart classes. Looks like those evil counselors are trying to turn you into a nerd. You’ve got to resist their spell Bill, you’ve got to! Why don’t you try to transfer into my classes? The dumbing down of Bill Burton might do you a world of good.”
“Thanks Jerry, but no thanks”. I responded. “Knowledge is good; you should try to get some sometime.”
“Very funny Mr. Bookworm,” Jerry kidded as the bell for first period rang. “I don’t know about you but I’m a little nervous.”
“Me too Jerry, but we’ll get through it. How about we meet up for lunch? It looks like that’s the only class we have together.” I joked.
“It’s a date,” Jerry said. “If I don’t show up, figure I was abducted by one of the busty senior girls who know a hot young guy when they see one. And don’t worry; I’ll see if she has a friend for you.”
With that we waved at each other and headed for our first class.
By the time our senior year in high school rolled around, Jerry had been voted Captain of the football team while, in my mind, I was voted nerd most likely to dissolve into the woodwork.
Jerry had huge expectations of getting a full football scholarship at a major college He made all-league and was touted as being the best linebacker to come out of our school ever. Unfortunately, mid way through the fourth quarter of the last game, he tore the Achilles tendon on his right foot. The next week he had surgery. Even though the surgeon said he would fully recover, most colleges scratched him off their recruitment list. With scholarship funds tight and getting tighter, they weren’t willing to take a chance on him.
Jerry was devastated. His parents couldn’t afford to send him to college so his options were either go to the local junior college and demonstrate that he was 100% O.K., or to go into the Army. He chose the latter and I didn’t take it well.
“No, No, No, I won’t let you go in the Army, Jerry. You realize that people get killed in the Army? I’ve already lost my parents for no reason. I refuse to let that happen to you!”
“Now calm down Billy boy. You know I’m a patriot. If I die for my country then it’s a good way to go, right?”
“Jerry, I’m a patriot too, but the more I look at this country, the more confused I am about what it’s becoming. We’ve just gone through a major financial meltdown - the worst since the Great Depression. The greed in the world seems to have been aided and abetted by the fools in Washington. Dieing for no real reason makes no sense to me. And Jerry, you’re my best friend”.
&n
bsp; “Bill, are you worried about me or you?”
“Both,” I answered.
“Well Bill, I’m sorry to tell you, my monumentally cynical friend, it’s too late. I’ve already signed up and I leave for basic training in two weeks. I can’t change it now.”
It had been almost four years since Jerry left for the service and when he came into the house, we gave each other a man to man, bear hug greeting. Jerry said Hi to Pops, Grandma and Joanna. They were as happy to see Jerry again as I was. We went to the barn where we could talk privately and catch up on each other’s lives.
“Jerry, I am really glad to see you’re still in one piece.” I commented “And look at you, you look great! I’ll bet the ladies are dying to get you in the sack.”
“Considering most of the ladies I’ve been associating with lately are Afghani nationals, my action has been limited.” Jerry said. “Remember they are always covered head to foot in layers of clothing. Not my preference, thank you. I’m pretty sure they weren’t attracted to me either. Most of the time I was covered head to foot in combat gear. Even if there was a possibility of a relationship, it would take us too long to get naked.”
“Thank God you haven’t lost your sense of humor.” I laughed. “So Jerry, how are you dealing with your life now?”
Jerry suddenly turned contemplative and spoke more softly. “Bill, when you’re in a strange place like Afghanistan and people are trying to kill you and you’re trying to kill them, it changes you. The daily stress of just staying alive can get very intense.”
“But you are here now, in the good ol’ USA. Don’t you feel relieved?” I asked.
“A little, but one of these days I’ll be going back. Part of me wants to go but a growing part of me wants to give it up.” Jerry answered.
“Why don’t you ask to be stationed in Germany or Japan?” I asked.
“Billy, I’m a fighter! I got through basic training with ease and because the Army saw what they called ‘a unique kind of spirit’ in me, they convinced me to consider training in Special Forces. After a couple months, you know the story, I agreed.”
“That training was pure hell,” Jerry went on, “but it got me prepared for what was to come. During my first deployment to Afghanistan and during some special missions I…?”
“I know, you can’t tell me about it or you’d have to kill me, right?” I interjected.”
“Something like that, but to interrupt your interruption, our platoon got trapped in a fire fight with some Taliban – about 50 of them. We had a dozen men. It was horrific and we lost three of our guys in that fight. I got so angry; I ran from rock to rock and killed six of them. When the Tallies saw they were up against some crazy American, they ‘turned tail’ and ran. I was able to kill three more while they made their exit. I guess their shift had ended.”
“Sounds like you ended it.” I added.
“When I returned back to the states, the Army awarded me the Bronze Star for bravery. Bill, I don’t think I was brave, I was just pissed!”
“My God Jerry, your letters and messages never elaborated on any of this.”
“I wasn’t really proud of killing all those people even though they would have gladly killed me.” Jerry added.
“And they would have celebrated it too!” I said
“True, but it did take me a while to deal with it emotionally. You are the only person on earth I’ve said this to. As far as the Army is concerned, I am combat trained and tested and that’s where I belong,” Jerry added with a little sadness in his voice.
“So how was Special Forces training?” I asked.
“There was one new trainer named Lieutenant Hitchcock who took it upon himself to toughen up all the guys.” Jerry answered. “He took a particular interest in me; or should I say he took a particularly strong dislike to me.”
“I nearly quit lots of times just so I could get this guy alone in an alley somewhere. I had to keep telling myself that a jerk of that magnitude wasn’t worth going to Leavenworth over.”
“And you made it through and got some promotions too.” I commented.
“After I got back from my first tour, I was promoted to Sergeant. My Commanding Officer took a liking to me and asked if I wanted to go to Officer Candidate School. Usually you need a college degree to go but he said that because of the bravery and leadership I’d demonstrated on the battlefield they could make an exception for me. Well I did that too. The physical aspects were easy but the academic requirements almost did me in. I graduated first in my class in the physical requirements and third from the bottom in academics. But the bottom line is that I completed my mission.” Jerry said proudly.
“After my second, mostly uneventful tour in Afghanistan, I was promoted to First Lieutenant.” Jerry added’
I stood back, saluted and shook his hand. “Congratulations friend, you are an American hero and I’m proud to know you!”
“Hooray for me, now tell me what’s going on in your life.”
I proceeded to tell Jerry about my job at JPL and my last semester at Cal-Tech. Somehow the story of my life compared to Jerry’s was about as exciting as attending a symposium on the benefits of broccoli. I wanted to tell him about my machine to add some excitement to my story but I stopped short.
“Well Jerry, my life reads like a real ‘nerd-fest’ of humdrum proportions doesn’t it?”
“Can’t argue with that,” Jerry shook his head and smiled, “but I have the feeling that great things are coming to you, Bill.”
“Jerry, there is one more thing that I’ve been working on with Pops but he swore me to secrecy.” At this moment, it was part ego and part embarrassment over my structured existence that caused me to confide in Jerry. I rationalized that if I couldn’t trust my best and oldest friend, who was also a war hero, who could I trust. I could hear Pops in my head saying ‘Don’t do it’, but I did it anyway.
“If I bring you into this loop, you’ve got to swear to me that you will tell no one!” I said sternly.
Jerry stared at me with that incredulous ‘there’s nothing you can tell me that would surprise me’ look. “Go ahead Genius Boy, make my day.”
“Nice Clint Eastwood impression, and not bad either” I said.
Then I told him the whole story. I started with the gravity concept and then elaborated on my theory. Jerry kept pretending he was falling asleep. At times I’m not sure he didn’t. Then I got to Pops, how he made the machine in the barn and our first trial run. His eyes got slowly wider and wider and he yelled “Are you kidding me?”
“You know Bill; I’m trying to figure out if you are a true genius or if we should call the men in white suits with a butterfly net to lock you up.”
“Some days I wonder that too, smart ass!” I joked.
I proceeded to tell Jerry about Pop’s concerns in detail, and the result of our first trial run.
“And you thought I was the one with the exciting life. I can’t hold a candle to you, buddy,” Jerry said with genuine excitement.
“Jerry, Pops has just about finished remaking the broken parts and he’s made the changes I gave him. Now we’ll have greater control over each orb. My calculations are showing that a combination of gravity string interruption pulses will eliminate the gravity below the device. The math gets a little fuzzy at this point because we don’t know the precise size of the strings. By generating the main pulse and then having the side orbs variable, in essence we will be able to slice and dice the main pulse into smaller and smaller frequency vibrations until they neutralize the gravitons. I know you have just 15 more days of leave. Do you want to see test run two?”
“Why am I getting the feeling I might be safer in Afghanistan than in your grandfather’s barn during the next test? But hey, we’ve all got to go sometime!” Jerry said with a grin.
Pops had known Jerry as long as I had. They met that first Christmas at our little house in Pasadena and he’d grown to love him as much as I did. I told him about Jerry’s promotion to First
Lieutenant, his heroics in the field of battle and his medal.
“Pops, I want to have Jerry be an observer at our next test flight and he’s agreed.”
“Are you out of your mind?” Pops yelled angrily. “We decided not to bring anyone else in on this now. A large part of me feels you’ve betrayed my trust. The rest of me feels that it’s your machine and you can do with it as you please.”
“Bill,” Pops continued, rethinking his outburst, “you know I’m not a very trusting person but if I were to trust anyone in the world, it would be Jerry. He’s become a fine and courageous man. Even though I believe more strongly than ever that we have to keep our experiments secret, he knows now. You’ve told him. It’s too late. I need to reinforce to him the importance of keeping quiet. Will you help me do that?”
“I will Pops.” I said meekly.
-7-
As strange as life is sometimes, I got a letter from Brenda. In this age of emails, texting, tweeting and simple phone calls, a letter seemed odd. I knew it was from her because of the BYU return address. I looked at it and that old, uncomfortable feeling of anger and confusion came over me. I threw the envelope down and scrawled “Return to Sender” on it.
Then I picked it back up, held it in my hand, looked at her handwriting and tore it open. As I opened it, my thoughts went back to high school and the wonderful times we’d had. I remembered how much I’d loved her and how much it hurt when she decided that she wanted to date other people.
It was a beautifully written letter. She reminisced about the fun we had and how unfortunate it was that we ended our relationship on such a sour note; a fact that she now regretted. She said that she had heard from a mutual friend that I was about to graduate from Cal-Tech and congratulated me for that. Then she let me know that in June she was getting her degree and planned to return to California to attend UCLA to get her teaching credential.