I saw Marlon and some other tech in an argument around the fah'ti replica they were attempting to build. I wandered over and looked at the prototype while they bickered.
"I said two tenths of a millimeter!" the techie was yelling. "Two tenths! Not one tenth. Not three tenths."
"And I said it won't be enough to transmit. As I've explained five times now, I don't give a rat's ass what your spec sheet says. Use bigger wire."
The tech gritted his teeth. "And any baboon can look and see that would mean rewiring the entire CPU-STO."
"Then I suggest you get a baboon and get wiring because two tenths ain't gonna cut it!"
Marlon was red. He had "that look". I stepped in. "What's going on?"
"Number jockey over here can't wrap his puny brain around the fact that he's using wire that cannot possibly transmit data fast enough..."
"And this young punk can't get it through his thick head that the entire CPU-STO has already been wired and passed three tests for conductivity."
Marlon tugged at his hair and squeaked in frustration. "Conductivity isn't the problem you half wit!" He pinched his fingers and thumb together. "Say it with me. Transfer rate. Transfer rate." He was using that condescending voice that made the world want to smack him.
The tech threw his hands in the air. "That's it. That is it! I didn't sign up to babysit. Bradley!" The man turned and stormed off.
"Is it really asking that much to get someone who has two brain cells to rub together? Is it?" I didn't answer. It was rhetorical. "If I need to transmit a terrabyte at rates equivalent to 120m/s, that's not going to happen with that floss he calls wire." He turned and looked down the aisle where the techie was quickly stomping off. "And he's too lazy to do the job right!"
The techie heard him like he was supposed to. I don't think the hand gesture he shot back was all that unexpected, either.
Marlon ran a hand through his hair and crouched down in front of the prototype. "I gave him the specs. It's not my fault he didn't read them."
I looked over the contraption. They'd been working on it since the moment the real fah'ti was in their possession. They did their best to copy the hardware, but I noticed now that they were making some very big changes to the CPU-STO, as Marlon hammered into my head whenever I'd call it the "clump of wire thing in the middle". Central Processing Unit- Synaptic Telemetry Output.
I know. I'm impressed I remembered that, too.
It controlled the unit. Basically, it linked similar biorhythms through space and time. Seems flimsy when I put it like that, doesn't it? And maybe it is. But maybe it's not. Reginald believes that all that is needed for predictable travel through wormholes is a gentle push.
"Yes, we called it a tide," he said excitedly one day when he was in the lab looking at the progress while I was there. "But maybe it's not. It ebbs and flows...but maybe it just needs one little whisper of direction. Maybe just a nudge. A thought, even. A feeling."
Bradley often ignored Reginald. He tolerated him in the lab, but just barely. And if Reginald started touching things, the bot would get downright annoyed.
"MISter Luckson," he'd say in a booming voice. "Do I come to your office and tinker with your silly baubles? Need I remind you that I know for a fact your grandfather taught you how to respect your elders? Hm?"
Reginald would always laugh it off. Bradley was, after all, just a bot. It's an odd dynamic. I wondered what Dad would have said about the two of them?
Reginald's theory was that the flow inside a wormhole only needed a little programming. Marlon's opinion differed a little, which, to Marlon, meant Reginald was a moron. Marlon thought it was all a mad jumble with invisible threads going from every possible place and time, connections like computer wires all knotted up. He thought the fah'ti didn't guide at all, but picked the right path.
When I told both of them that they were basically saying the same thing, even the Bradley bot scoffed at my ignorance. I learned to keep my mouth shut and just nod and be polite.
I didn't really go to the lab to look at the fah'ti, anyway. I knew what a fah'ti was. I'd used one, and that put me in a class with exactly one other human, and it certainly wasn't any of the scientists who thought they knew it all down in the little lab. It made me valuable to them for about two minutes the first time I went down there. I went through the fah'ti, so, in their minds, I was an expert.
"How do you go through it?" they would ask over and over.
"You just do," was the only answer I could give.
"Yes, but what do you do?"
"Go through it."
"HOW?!"
They gave up. I gave up. I didn't know. It just worked. Let them figure it out.
No, I didn't come to the lab for the fah'ti. I came to the lab for everything else. The fah'ti was the only active project. All hands were on deck to either get a working prototype, or to get the other one functional and wait for the flood of data. The workstations were silent. And that meant no one paid attention when I wanted to get a sneak preview of "the next great thing".
I liked the weapons. Maybe it's the Qitani influence. Ralph thinks so. I don't actually want to use them. Not on people, anyway. But they are amazing.
Take the Stunner XJ-7, for example. Stun guns are so old that we even had them aboard the ship, so there's nothing really new about the basic concept. But the XJ-7 delivers a certain type of electrical shock to the spine that quickly constricts all the muscles, pinching off the impulses through the spinal chord and rendering the victim completely helpless. They can't even kick or punch. One zap and it's boom, instant vegetable. I was very careful when I looked at that particular experiment.
Then there was the LLD, Lethal Laser Device. Simple name for such a complicated machine. It worker on the same crystal propulsion theory that drove modern space craft, only on a much, much smaller scale. They want it to stop an enemy, not send them into space.
...although, now that I think about it, blasting them into space would certainly end a problem, wouldn't it?
Anyway, one quick press of a button and the enemy would have a hole in them a mile wide. The work station was surrounded by a crystal blast shield, but even so, there were deep burn marks in the desk and the floor inside the shield. I was never allowed to touch it. But I wanted to. Boy, did I want to.
I walked away from Marlon to follow the aisle to my favorite invention. He wouldn't even miss me. I'm not even sure he really knew I was there. He hadn't really been talking to me, just griping out loud. I got to the end of the main aisle and turned down the hall.
Physical inventions were created in the main lab. It was an open space with every kind of machinery imaginable, and people worked in stations on large tables with other arrays of smaller tools for the job. Three whole Condor Ones could have fit inside the main lab. That alone would have been impressive. But there were some "inventions" that weren't things so much as experiments. Some contained viruses. Some contained animals being studied. Most of them, though, contained plant life of different forms in secured environments. Every climate of Earth was represented, as the Bradley bot was proud to repeat over and over. I passed both arctic and desert. I walked right by the plains. I paused once again at the forest. Something about that one was beautiful. But I knew where I wanted to be. Swamps.
I ran my key through the door and waited, then entered the air lock. I had to wait for the door behind me to close and seal, then press the button. The outside air was sucked out and the heavy, humid swamp breeze filled the chamber. I felt myself unwind. I was somewhere that felt familiar. It felt like Laak'sa, felt like home. The door clicked and swung open and I could hear the buzz of dragonfly wings.
Okay, not just like home. Laak'sa doesn't have dragon flies. They do, however, have caa flies, and they have the same almost mechanical buzz when their wings flap incredibly fast. Their water is different. The marsh in this artificial environment smells sweeter, where Laak'sa's has a slight sulfur smell. Not as bad as v-2445, but definitely there. The mud in this containment chamber is deep brown, while on Laak'sa, it's deep green. I sat on a log and closed my eyes. The differences didn't change the feeling. It felt like home.