Capie was bound and determined to finish the chutzpah, as Paul called it. With its power, they could move in and stop the atrocities in the Middle East. Without it, they simply couldn’t take the chance. With each passing day, she felt the mounting pressure on her to complete this task as quickly as possible. The longer it took, the more people that would die—a fact that left her feeling conscience stricken and depressed.
Squatting downward, she laid fingertips to the grit of the damp rock at her feet. And curled her lip up at the nearly one trillion joules of energy she sensed available and awaiting her command.
“Perfect!” she muttered as she stood back up. This was far far better than Bullock Hole.
With a wave of her hand, she dried out a section of wet rock along the top of the cliff and created a virtual cushioned seat for herself. This far above the pounding surf, she commanded a magnificent view of the vast empty ocean. For a moment, she considered a spell to shield herself from the wind but rejected the idea. She was enjoying her exposure to the primordial forces of nature. She felt more alive and in synch with reality than she had for a quite a while.
Another wave of her hand and the emerald wrapped in a sheet of thin steel flew from her grip, spinning like a Frisbee through the air as it headed out a hundred yards over the open water. It slowed and dropped into the sea, sinking rapidly downward into its depths.
Capie then created a display on her right in order to monitor the progress of the emerald’s isotope conversion.
“With the power of Limpet Rock, I can now do the conversions more than a hundred times faster,” she bragged with a savage grin, laying one hand on the rock and snapping the fingers of her other hand in earnest. “Let the games begin!”
At first there was no discernible change in either the display or in the ocean in front of her. But that soon changed as the image in her display became a swirl of bubbles and light.
In the sea before her, the surface of the ocean began to heave and froth, a cauldron of water gushing up and rising into the air. It grew larger, spreading outward and surging higher. Capie marveled at the raw power displayed in front of her.
Instead of throttling it back, she snapped her fingers again, ramping up the spell even further. And laughed gleefully as the ocean produced a geyser of water two hundred yards wide and nearly two hundred feet high. The deafening roar of that much moving water was like a Niagara Falls, and even the island she was sitting on trembled from the release of that much energy.
She was on the verge of throttling it up even more when she noticed the heat.
The air around her was growing increasingly warmer, the mist around her the equivalent of a steamy sauna. And the effect was intensifying, assisted no doubt, by a shift in the wind, now steaming forth directly from the geyser blasting away in front of her.
“Oh, my!” she said again, this time with considerable concern as well as surprise. She had not counted on the release of heat as a byproduct of the conversion process. And the heat that her spell was producing was absolutely incredible. Not only was it heating the air around her but it must also be heating the ocean water even more. Without a doubt it must already be killing the sea life around Limpet Rock, everything from the plankton up to whatever fish were native to the bay waters. It was intolerable. It had to be stopped and immediately too.
With a snap of her arm, the conversion of the emerald’s atoms stopped. Instantly, the geyser cascaded back into the water, the thunder of its collapse reverberating around the bay, the island under her feet quaking from the shockwaves. The wind shifted direction again, slowly returning to its former pattern. In less than a minute, the ocean was back to its normal self, the water no longer foaming and churning.
She tapped her finger against her chin, deep in thought.
Why was there so much energy being released as a byproduct of her spell, she asked herself? The conversion process of the isotopes required energy to release neutrons from the nucleus of the atoms of iron and again it required additional energy to force the neutrons into the atomic nuclei of the beryllium, oxygen, and silicon atoms of the emerald. Assuming the process to be anywhere near a decent level of efficiency, there shouldn’t be any release of energy to make the ocean water practically boil like a giant tea kettle.
Which meant that the process must not be so efficient. What Paul had shown her, the way to perform the conversions, must be wasteful, losing heat and energy into the environment when, by all rights, it needed every bit of energy to make the process more effective.
The wind was cold now, the humidity making the air almost bitter. Without a thought, she snapped a protective barrier around herself, warming her cocoon of air and drying out her damp clothes.
It was time to do a little experimenting, to find a more efficient way to do these conversions. Perhaps, if she found the right way to do so, it might even speed up the process. She, for one, would welcome that result. Spending her days sitting around watching atoms being transmuted from one isotope to another was not her idea of fun.
“Let’s have Michio Kaku here, please,” she muttered, naming the popular theoretical physicist from the City College of New York, the one who had made frequent appearances on television and film, especially on the Science Channel.
The image of the aging physicist appeared in front her. With his receding hairline, long white hair and an engaging smile, the specter extended its arms wide.
“How can I help you?” the figure asked cheerfully.
• • • •
The remainder of the week, Capie continued to split her time between the conversion of the emerald’s beryllium and the MBE Drug Project. She was bored with the daily grind of working on the emerald, despite her discovery of a process that was not only more efficient but far faster as well. But the work on her special project was taking shape nicely, thanks to some excellent internet research by Daneel and experimental work by a private pharmaceutical research firm in Perth.
The highlight of her day was coming back to her husband in the hotel, to enjoy his company and comfort, to be in his very presence. She still needed him, every bit as much as before. Indeed, he was her sole reason to exist.
Her heart was not really in working on the chutzpah. It was in her husband. She worked on the emerald because she knew it was a necessary undertaking, however arduous. And because they needed it done. She was still a little nervous about the day when they had to leave Earth, to go to Mars for who knew how many months. To live on a totally barren, lifeless and nearly frozen planet. She was on edge every time she thought of it.
By contrast, Paul seemed to be enjoying his work although it was physically exhausting him. Nevertheless, he practically beamed with pride at his daily progress. Judging from his reports, all of the structural pieces of the Sirius Effort were completed now, including all the tanks and the ship’s hull. He was now working on the interior of the ship, adding the decks for the cockpit, the living spaces and the cargo storage. He claimed that he was making some pretty decent progress in that regard.
She was really looking forward to 5 p.m. rolling around so that she could quit for the day and relax for the evening with her husband. But, wait a moment, no, this was Saturday. Today was the day of the play.
Well, she was actually looking forward to that too. The event was mysterious. Who knew what was going to happen there? She strongly suspected that the people of Kalgoorlie were planning something more than just putting on a play for the Neumanns.
Capie knew that she personally was a very social type, a real “people person” as the saying went. The play was a chance to get out, to meet more people and to enjoy a public social event. Okay, so the people here in town were under the mistaken impression that she and Paul were film producers. She didn’t intend to encourage them in that belief, but she saw no particular harm in it either. Soon enough, she and Paul would be leaving, taking off in the Sirius Effort for the planet Mars. Most likely, they would never return to Australia again. Without a doubt the pe
ople here would be disappointed, but it was, after all, their own fault for jumping to conclusions. And since there were no financial losses on their part, there wasn’t any particular reason for her to feel guilty about it.
Of course, if an opportunity came up where she and Paul could clear the air, then they would do so. But she strongly suspected that no one in town would believe their denials.
• • • •
It was their second trip to the auditorium in less than a week. This time, however, the place was awash in people, the lines backed up more than a hundred feet at the front doors, crowds of all types in the streets and on the sidewalks, all seemingly intent on going to see the play.
“This is going to take a while,” Capie muttered to Paul as they joined the end of one of the lines. “I’m glad that Daneel is back at the room on his software research project. I don’t think he’d like all this crowding.”
“There you are!” exclaimed an exasperated female voice.
They turned to find Claire Worthington, adorned in a white evening dress, scurrying in their direction.
“We can’t have the guests of honor waiting in line!” she definitively declared. “I sent a vehicle for you, but somebody slipped up. Oh well, water under the bridge as the saying goes. You’re here now. Come with me, we have a special booth setup for the two of you. Oh, this is so exciting! You’re just going to love this play production!”
“Why do I feel like the fly that’s been invited into the spider web?” grumbled Paul in an aside.
Claire babbled like an entire herd of politicians at a fund raising event, never letting Capie or Paul do more than smile. She personally escorted them past the lines and into the auditorium, taking them effortlessly past the crowds and through to a special area reserved for the town’s elite.
There they again met the mayor, the town’s CEO, and several others of the city’s VIPs, shaking their enthusiastic hands, enduring their enthralled welcomes and the excited glances.
They had the two best seats in the house, surrounded by the small city’s upper crust, with a great view of the stage. Paul, twisting and pulling at his clothes, couldn’t imagine a situation where he would feel more uncomfortable.
“We are so delighted you are here!” the mayor’s wife told Capie, reaching out to squeeze her hand. “You’ve come to the right place to make your movie.”
“You won’t regret it,” said a deep male voice behind her.
Paul was decidedly relieved when the house lights went down and with it the need to carry on the small talk. Professor Fergerson walked out from behind the stage curtains, a microphone in hand. A spot light followed him as he went to center stage.
“Welcome ladies and gents, we are delighted to have you with us here tonight to see for yourselves a very wonderful and delightful play, ‘The Trial of Davros.’ As you know, until recently, we had planned to do Pygmalion. But then something unusual and thrilling occurred. Two wonderful and exciting people arrived as part of an advanced team of film producers who decided to make a movie in our fair city. Ladies and gents, it is my extreme pleasure to introduce you to these wonderful people, Peter and Catlin Neumann!”
The crowd roared, many of them bursting to their feet to vigorously applaud both the announcement and the Neumanns. Paul’s skin turned a bright red as the spotlight swung and caught both him and Capie in its brilliant glare. Gulping wildly, with a deer in the headlights look, both he and Capie hesitantly raised their hands and listlessly waved at the audience. In return, the crowd applauded all the more vigorously.
“Let’s show them what a real Kalgoorlie welcome is!” the amplified voice of Professor Fergerson shouted. “Come on down, Peter and Catlin! Come on down and meet the wonderful citizens of Kalgoorlie!”
Stunned, the Neumanns could barely believe this turn of events. With encouragement and helping hands from those around them, they were forced to stand and make their stumbling way down the steps and over to the stage. There, amidst the continuing yells and applause, Fergerson extended a hand, gently taking Capie by the arm and assisting her in her slow walk to center stage. Paul followed along uncertainly.
“Ladies and gents, the Neumanns!” screamed Fergerson into the microphone.
More thunderous applause followed and Paul hesitantly took a small bashful bow.
Then Fergerson held up his other hand and the audience gradually grew quiet.
“Let’s hear from them, yes?” he said and with no further warning than that, thrust the microphone at Paul.
Who eyed it as if it were the deadliest most venomous snake on Earth.
“Speech! Speech!” screamed the audience, clapping their hands in unison.
His pulse racing and on the verge of hyperventilating, Paul cast a small spell on himself to calm his nerves and to help him figure out what to say. His trembling hand reached out to gingerly take the microphone and then hold it up to his face.
There was only one silver lining to this situation. With the spot light in his eyes, he couldn’t see beyond the edge of the stage. So, he could—and did—pretend that there was no one there. He was only speaking to the dark.
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” he started slowly. “I can’t tell you what a great honor it is to be here and to be accepted as friends in this great city.”
There were yells of appreciation and more cries for him to continue.
“I can honestly say,” when he was finally able to continue, “that I have never been any place like this before! You people are absolutely fantastic! My wife and I love it here! And, on the subject of the movie that I’m sure most of you want to know about, I am terribly sorry, but I can’t say very much about it. I’m sure you know how it is, the secrecy involved. Why, there are even things about it that even I don’t know yet! But I can tell you this much. I am building a, uh, spacecraft…a, uh, highly important part of the plot, where most of the action will take place, in fact. And I can guarantee everyone in this town, that when we are ready, you will be totally surprised by our production!”
The entire audience stood and thundered their applause, many of them stamping their feet and shouting their praise.
Paul bowed more deeply this time, grinning self-consciously before turning and giving the microphone back to the professor.
As they headed back to their seats, Capie leaned close to whisper.
“You’re getting better at lying,” she said softly. “Congratulations.”
“It’s called prevarication, my dear,” he muttered back at her.
After they resumed their seats, Paul was so consumed with relief that he didn’t hear anything else Fergerson said. It wasn’t until the play actually began that he was able to focus on the stage.
And on that stage, a number of actors dressed as Daleks, an alien cyborg race, could be seen. Paul had to admit, the costumes that must have been thrown together at virtually the last moment were actually pretty good.
One of the Daleks rolled forth, the lights on top of the rotating head beginning to flash.
In an amplified and distorted voice, it said, “Report for the Supreme Master.”
Another Dalek, from the other side of the stage, rolled forward. “Speak!”
“Prison ship has landed. The Traitor is now being brought here.”
Paul settled back to enjoy the play as best as he could.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Hotel Restaurant
York Hotel
Hannan Street
Kalgoorlie, Western Australia
October
Sunday 7:14 a.m. AWST
It started in earnest the very next morning, with the busboy in Restaurant 259 of the York Hotel. The young man was a college student, a member of the drama department, and one of the walk-on extras in the play, specifically one of the Daleks. He asked about the movie the Neumanns were making, what parts were available and when auditions would start.
Capie tried explaining to him that the auditions wouldn’t be any time real soon, but the young man
was terribly disappointed in that answer and pressed her for further details.
The news all over the Internet and from TV from the previous day depressed them even more. A not quite successful and very savage attempt had been made to assassinate Israel’s Minister of Internal Security. Three innocent bystanders and two of his security detail were dead.
Israel’s counter attack had been swift and deadly, launching an airstrike on selected Syrian targets. The death toll was unknown but would likely be in the hundreds.
As they left the restaurant and passed through the lobby, the desk clerk gave them a message from a local newspaper reporter, requesting an interview.
Suspecting that more was coming, Paul invited Capie to spend the rest of the day in Perth, to play tourist and to get away from the ambitious wannabes and hustlers. Capie quickly agreed and they spent a very enjoyable day taking a river boat cruise, visiting the Art Gallery of Western Australia, and attending a performance of the Western Australia Symphony Orchestra.
Later that evening, when they returned to the hotel, there was a set of parents waiting for them in the lobby and two additional messages at the desk. Using a few magic spells, they managed to cut short the plea of the parents to include their son in the movie cast. Of the messages from the desk clerk, one was from a business and the second was yet another message from the newspaper reporter. They ignored both.
Over the next few days, the situation rapidly deteriorated even further. No matter where they went for their meals, they were met by somebody that wanted to sell them something for the movie or by somebody that wanted to be in the movie or had a relative that wanted the same.
The messages continued to pile up at the front desk—various businesses, artists, reporters, parents, bureaucrats, Professor Fergerson, and even two from Dean Gilbert of the college!
Orders of Magnitude (The Genie and the Engineer Series Book 2) Page 35