The thick morning fog was just starting to lift as I made my way onto campus and across it to my first class. Above, the sun- a subdued, dull glow- diligently fought to penetrate the gray, muting murkiness and bring about a happier start to the day.
Unfortunately, it would take way more than the sun to brighten my day. It would take a financial miracle of epic proportions!
Two and a half years of financial grants and scholarships had run their course and terminated at the close of last semester. I was now on my own and responsible for any future tuition, meals, and housing.
To that end, hopefully, after my first class- Quantum Equations- I would ease my financial burden slightly.
Earlier in the week I had ventured out to the neighboring state university campus and volunteered for a medical study that promised to not only ease my financial situation, but to also correct my genetic defect. The experimental study would utilize ‘gene therapy’ to hopefully reverse my disorder and ‘fix’ me- to finally make me complete.
The 14-week study promised results that would border on the impossible, but I needed the generous stipend offered and the gamble seemed worth it. Plus, if this treatment actually worked, I would be that much closer to fulfilling my lifelong dream.
That thought alone made the trek across the rolling topography of the well-groomed, urban campus all the more tolerable and allowed me to better ignore the off color comments, rude inferences, gestures, and disapproving facial contortions of my fellow ‘tolerant’ students as they passed me on the walkways.
 
 
“Miss Everhardt?” The student receptionist called out as she looked around the waiting area.
As I stood, her face contorted momentarily to show her opinion of me.
It was expected.
“This way, please. Dr. Ramstein will see you now.”
I forced a smile as I was ushered through a door to the immediate left of the reception window. I was directed to a small examination room and told to sit on the high, paper covered examination table in its center.
As expected, I waited patiently for about fifteen minutes before someone actuated the knob and entered.
“Miss Everhardt?”
I nodded and forced another smile.
“Hi, I’m Mark Ramstein. Thank you for volunteering for our experiment and study. I trust you have read the prospectus of the study and accept its conditions?” An athletic, well groomed thirty-something man of European descent introduced with a pleasant, disarming smile.
“I have reviewed the proposed theory of treatment and feel it worth my participation. I’m hopeful that what you forecast as a result will materialize successfully.” I answered the beautifully coiffed, brown-haired man.
‘Doctor’ Mark Ramstein regarded me for a few seconds.
“Yes, well, shall we begin, Miss Everhardt? I’d like to examine you for a baseline to the study.”
After several minutes of measuring, observations, and poking, Ramstein sat down and began asking me questions.
“So I understand you are a college junior? Where might that be exactly? And what, if I may, is your major?”
“I attend Carnegie Mellon University and am pursuing a degree in Astrophysics, Dr. Ramstein.” I answered patently.
“Ah, that would explain certain behavioral responses- specifically your stiff demeanor and intelligent yet condescending responses.” He smiled flatly.
I immediately felt guilty.
“I’m sorry, doctor. As you can imagine, I’m constantly on the defensive because of my life choices and physical deficiencies. I am really looking forward to whatever results your study can provide.”
“That’s the whole purpose of this study, Miss Everhardt. We hope to prove that our refined gene replacement techniques can and will provide viable benefits to a variety of physical and psychological afflictions and ailments.” He replied, still smiling.
“So... Do I qualify, or am I too much of a lost cause?” I asked outright.
“Why would you think you weren’t, um, qualified, Miss Everhardt?” He stared curiously.
“Well, for starters, I’m not exactly what I seem. I started my real life test eighteen months ago, have been prescribed ‘T’ blockers since I was fourteen, and have been enrolled in HRT for my entire RLT. As a gift this past Christmas, my parents allowed and paid for breast implants. Any and all funding has now been terminated as my parents are no longer alive.” I stated purposefully.
“Wow! You don’t believe in holding back, do you, Miss Everhardt?” Ramstein replied after a dramatic pause. “Just to reassure you, those stated criteria should not hamper the study or the experiment. In fact, your current physical appearance will only soften once your DNA results have been decoded and we administer the appropriate therapeutic re-sequencing regime. In layman’s terms your appearance won’t really change all that much. You’ll just start easing into the body you would have had had you been born a female instead of a male.” He paused to shake his head once or twice. “You, Miss Everhardt are the perfect candidate for this particular study! I look forward to observing your progress over the duration of the project.”
“You paint a very rosy picture, Dr. Ramstein. One would be skeptical of such confidence.”
“I get that a lot, Miss Everhardt.” He paused a few seconds then his face contorted into a devious but humorous smile. “Ew! The headstrong young medical researcher sounds too over confident! I can’t wait to see him screw up!” Ramstein imitated a weasily-voiced, beady-eyed, shyster very well and I laughed in spite of my promising myself not to.
“Now, do you have any further questions for me?”
“So when is it I get this ‘therapeutic’ re-sequencing regime? How much pain will be involved? And when should I start to see results or changes?”
Ramstein smiled and began laughing.
“Straight and to the point! I admire you, Miss Everhardt.” He paused another moment to evaluate me. “We should have your therapy serum formulated by next week if your preliminary DNA results don’t reveal any potentially critical defects such as predominance to one cancer or another, neuro-peptide imbalances, cardiovascular disease, or diabetes. I have the utmost confidence we will be contacting you about the middle of next week. Would that be soon enough, Miss Everhardt?”
“You still didn’t answer the question about pain?” I reminded.
“So I haven’t.” He sighed. “I’m not going to lie to you, Miss Everhardt. There will be sufficient pain involved to make you second-guess your decision to participate. In our previous studies with lesser hominids, the test subjects experienced enough distress to sometimes override the nervous system and cause unconsciousness, one even premature death. With your type of therapy, I would plan on severe if not excruciating muscular and skeletal pain since the therapy will be replacing all of your ‘Y’ chromosomes with corresponding ‘X’ chromosomes. We do not however fully understand what physical changes this might produce outside of the usual secondary physical and sexual characteristics experienced with HRT. Does that answer your question?”
“Yes. Yes it does. Thank you, Dr. Ramstein. I look forward to our next visit.” I answered staunchly. I had figured any type of change to my actual genetics would result in horrible pain and he had just confirmed that- rather uncomfortably, I might add.
At least I knew him to be truthful and on the up and up now.
 
 

 
 
A notice, or was it an advertisement, caught my eye as I entered the Science Building the next day.

Being early to my Astrophysics class, I decided to throw my name into the ring and quickly made my way to room 221.
“The door’s open! Enter, but beware!” A male voice greeted as I knocked heavily on the wooden door.
“Can I help you… um… Miss?” The middle-aged, balding man of maybe six feet asked as I entered.
“I’m here about the offer on the Science Building’s bulletin board? I’m interested.” I announced. “I’m Christi-“
“Hold on! I work on a last name basis, Miss?”
“Everhardt.”
“Miss Everhardt. Fine. So, what makes you the perfect assistant for my project, Everhardt?” He bulldozed on without a breath.
“Well…I’m a junior pursuing a doctorate in Applied Astrophys-“
“When can you start?” He interrupted excitedly.
“Um. When do you need me?” I asked, half shaken by his abrupt decision.
“How is your schedule fixed for tomorrow, Everhardt?”
“I have one class in the morning at 9:30AM and two classes just after lunch: 1:35PM and 3PM.” I answered robotically.
“Plan on 4:30PM and be prepared to work through dinner- which I shall supply, provided you hang in here that long and we should finish for the day around 8PM. How’s that sound?”
“That sounds acceptable, doctor. Can I inquire about the work and salary?”
“We’ll talk salary tomorrow evening if you make it through your first day, Everhardt. I’m not in the habit of working with just anybody and certainly not accustom to supplementing a person’s habits for one or two days. As for my work? Well, that’s classified by the DOD and NSA. See you tomorrow at 4:30PM, Everhardt.” He informed and rudely turned his back to retake his seat behind his desk.
I took that as my cue to exit and head to my class.
 
 
Today was a usual day for me as I attended my three classes. I arrived at room 221 at 4:25PM and knocked.
There was no answer so I knocked harder.
After my fifth attempt, a young, female, redheaded, professor passing by in the hallway stopped, appraised me, and ventured to ask:
“Hey. Youse lookin’ for Smithe?”
I nodded.
“He’s down in the garage workin’ on his rocket engines.”
I was directed to the stairs at the end of the hall behind me.
“Three flights down then right, through the double doors. Don’t blame me if you can’t find him in that mess!”
“Thank you, Prof Samuels.” I said pleasantly.
 
 
“Everhardt! You’re late!” Smithe shouted as I hurried through the right-hand door into a huge workspace filled with what only could be described as a NASA refuse pile.
“I’m sorry, but I believe you left out where exactly I should report this evening when we talked yesterday, Doctor.” I replied.
“I did?”
The doctor coughed twice into his hand.
“Well, this evening isn’t a total wash. Come over here, Everhardt, and I’ll show you what I need done.
Smithe instantly went into his intentions for me and gave a very abridged tour and orientation. What he asked of me though, was not challenging or demanding and I felt underutilized as I returned to my tiny efficiency apartment and contemplated whether I would return tomorrow afternoon or not.
Some of the equipment I observed in his work area intrigued me though, and for lack of anything better, decided I would continue as his assistant.
I questioned that decision as I entered the ‘garage’ the next afternoon.
“Hey! You shouldn’t be down here! Smithie will be pissed if he sees you here!” A younger man- a fellow student shouted before making his way over to me hurriedly.
“I’m Everhardt.” I announced and the athletic-looking, black-haired, Asian guy stopped and looked confused.
“You’re Everhardt?” He questioned in shock.
“Yep. Now who are you?” I countered.
“I’m Chen. Ichi Chen.”
“Everhardt. Christina Everhardt.”
“Nice ta meet ya. What’s old man Smithie got you doin’ down here?”
“So far not much” I admitted. “I just started last evening and he gave me what I’m sure he considered a full orientation and tour.”
“Gave ya the ol’ five sec runaround, did he? That’s typical. He wonders why assistants don’t stay too long.” Chen laughed.
I liked him.
“Here. Let’s start over and I’ll give you what I consider a worthy tour.” He motioned for me to head deeper into the junk pile.
“Over here is Smithie’s first failed attempt at an Ion Propulsion Drive System.” He pointed to a charred and heat shaded module about four feet in diameter off to our left. “You do know what Ion Propulsion is, right?”
I glared at him intensely before giving him what I thought were the theory and requirements of such a device.
I might have come on too strong as Ichi Chen stopped and stared at me in awe for a minute.
“Yeah… Anyway, it lasted all of eight seconds before letting out the smoke. Over here is our fourth attempt at Ion Propulsion.” He said motioning to another, similar, but pristine looking module.
“What happened to the second and third attempts?” I asked curiously.
“We’ll answer that question if we ever find any of the pieces of rev 2.0 or whenever rev 3.0 comes back down.” Chen snickered wryly.
“Oh.”
“Now… over here is a concept design for what Smithie calls his Hyperspace Cryo-sleep system.”
“Okaaaay?” I said skeptically.
“Basically, if we could get one of these Ion Drives to function, the occupants of any spacecraft it was used on would need some form of protection from the theoretical extremes that accelerating to almost light speed would induce. Not to mention the amount of time it would take to travel between solar systems. This ‘thing’ would induce a cryogenic sleep so that the occupant neither feels the gravitational extremes nor ages from the extreme voyage duration.”
“Suspended animation.” I simplified.
“In a matter of speaking; yes. Hey! You’re pretty intuitive. What’s your major?” Chen asked excitedly.
“Applied Astrophysics.”
“Really?! I had you pegged for a business major. My bad.” He said sarcastically with a pleasant smile.
“So what’s he working on over there?” I asked, pointing to where I saw Dr. Smithe all last evening. There was a white board with calculations sprawled across its entire surface.
I began deciphering the formulae, finding it difficult to follow, as it seemed Dr. Smithe wasn’t too organized in his ‘equation flow’. Chen- apparently not hearing or seeing me point- had already walked off down another row of high-tech discards.
Instantly, I found a mistake in his third equation. It was a small one, but in practice it could mean success or failure. I quickly applied the change to the rest of the equations.
“Oh no! Did you just fool with his equations? Christina, that’s a very big no-no around here! Ol’ Smithie doesn’t like to be corrected- especially on just your second day!” Chen chided worriedly as he hurried back to me.
“Except in this case, Chen.” The doctor’s voice said from behind us. Dr. Smithe slowly rounded one of the junk piles that had obscured him from our view. He took his time appraising my correction while gently rubbing his chin.
“In this case, I think Everhardt here is onto something. Tell me, Everhardt. How did you so easily find this very small error in this rat’s nest?” He asked after turning his attention to me.
“Actually, it just jumped out at me, doctor.” I deferred as lucky observation.
“You’ll have to do better than that, Everhardt. I want to know your exact thought process in regard to my mess of numbers, radicals, and integrals.”
I thought on that question a moment.
“This equation here,” I pointed to the second formula but avoided touching the board physically. “This formula is a derivative of Einstein’s Theory of Relativity versus Hawking’s Quantum Entanglement Postulation. In order to successfully define that relationship, mass must be considered almost null and therefore miniscule in its effect on the next four equations. Therefore, ‘one’ or ‘unity’ would be the most arbitrary small whole number usable.”
Fascinating! You never told me you studied advanced mathematics or theoretical quantum physics, Everhardt.”
“You never asked, Dr. Smithe.” I replied.
“I didn’t?”
“Nope.”
“Um…I like you, Everhardt. I think you’ll work out very well here in the garage. What say you, Chen?”
“Works for me, doc. She’s pretty smart. I think she should check your figures more often. Maybe we could’ve avoided launching IPD system three into orbit and beyond if you hired her sooner.”
“Yes, well… Back to work everybody! We have a prototype to assemble and test!”
 
 

 
 
Dr. Ramstein was true to his word and I reported to the small, UPMC/AHS-sponsored, medical research lab and office on the University of Pittsburgh campus promptly at 11AM Wednesday. Once again the student receptionist called out my name and, once again she scrutinized my appearance before admitting me to the examination room.
“Hello, Miss Everhardt. Nice to see you again. Are we ready to start this experiment?” Ramstein greeted after the presumed mandatory twenty-minute exam room wait.
I nodded and presented my right arm.
“Hate to disappoint you, but this works better if injected into your gluteus maximus, Miss Everhardt.”
I blushed then reluctantly stood, turned, and slid my jeans down far enough to comply.
“Now, starting from today, I’d like you to keep a journal of your day-to-day observations. Both physical and psychological if you have the time, and if you feel so inclined. Your observations and interpretations will aid our study and the project as a whole.” Ramstein advised after safely disposing of the syringe. “Any questions?”
“Approximately how long until it takes affect?” I asked.
A slight burning sensation gave me my answer.
“Never mind. I feel it working already.”
“Already?” Ramstein seemed stunned. “Usually it takes several hours to present any discomfort. Interesting.”
“Wonderful.” I groaned. “I’m just that special.”
“Just very sensitive, Miss Everhardt- which seems contrary to your demeanor.” Ramstein chuckled. “Sorry. That was rude of me. You must realize though that people react to things differently. It isn’t any indication the treatment will work better or worse.”
“Understood. Can I go now? I have to go across town to my first afternoon class. I don’t like to be late.”
“Oh. Before you leave, see Sharon at the front desk to pick up your first installment, Miss Everhardt. And I’ll see you back here in two weeks. Sharon will schedule that appointment. Feel free to call or visit should you begin to notice any unusual effects or reactions in excess of what we discussed.”
I thanked Dr. Ramstein and collected my first paycheck from the receptionist, Sharon.
The five hundred and forty-five dollars was the first inflow of cash from my two paying endeavors. At least I was able to pay the landlord a portion of my monthly rent and buy some food with a few pennies to spare.
As of yet, Dr. Smithe’s project had not produced any income.
 
 
That afternoon, I found it hard to sit down- even for a moment.
 
 
“Hey, Christina. Problems?” Chen asked as I forgot- yet again- and tried to sit down to relieve my tired feet.
“Got a shot this morning and it hurts like hell.” I told my co-researcher.
“What kind of shot? I know that Rabies shots can be pretty harsh, but I think those go in your stomach.”
“Not making it any better, Chen.” I hissed as I stood back up and gingerly rubbed my butt.
“Sorry. Oh! Hey. I got some good news from Ol’ Smithie. He finished the refit of IPD system four. He wants you at its test firing tomorrow.” Chen said excitedly.
“So where is this test firing going to be conducted?” I inquired.
“Oh. Here in the test vessel just outside the garage door. I’ll bring you up on what you’ll need to know after dinner.”
“Is that safe? I mean, an Ion Drive could potentially fry anything behind it for several hundred feet or even miles depending on its actual output.” I reminded.
“Meh, it’ll be okay. Now that you found Ol’ Smithie’s error, I’m confident it’ll work as advertised.” He smiled reassuringly.
“If you’re so sure, I guess I’ll be here. What time?” I asked, still with some reservation.
“After we have dinner tomorrow evening. So we better get a move on and get the thing mounted into the test stand. It’ll take all night and morning to evac the air to simulate space normal. Countdown starts tomorrow at 5PM.”
 
 
“What have I gotten myself into?” I asked the heavens as I entered my apartment. Well, maybe not the heavens, just the ceiling. I was too tired to look any higher.
I resolved to fall into my one and only piece of living room furniture- an old, beat up couch I had liberated from outside an apartment I knew to be owned by a group of Pitt students. It was earmarked for a potentially incendiary, football victory celebration.
I had thought only WVU burned furniture after victorious championship games.
Remembering at the last moment how my butt felt, I resigned myself to fall flat on my belly and straight into a deep, uneventful sleep.
 
 
The annoying buzzing of my alarm dragged me to consciousness. I angrily sought out the offending piece of technology with gruesome intentions!
“There you are, my pretty!” I cackled as I violently stabbed the face of my phone to silence the obnoxious noise once found deep within the couch cushions.
While almost late to my first class, I utilized my time between that class and my lunch break to create a new tab on my phone ‘notepad’ app and make my first entry into my newly requested medical observation journal.
 
 
Thursday, 16st, April, 2102
After my initial injection yesterday, I immediately experienced a burning sensation at the injection site. By midday the burning had progressed into a throbbing pain that inflamed my entire backside as if I had been stung by a wasp. So far, I have managed the pain successfully and this morning the pain had subsided to a dull soreness. I have observed no other changes physical or psychological.
 
 
“Chen? Where do we stand on test chamber environment abatement?” Dr. Smithe asked as he entered the makeshift control center.
The plywood sheathed, sixteen by sixteen foot building was just big enough to house the controls needed to evacuate the test chamber atmosphere, control the power supplied to the IPDs4 test module, monitor its output and performance, and protect us from the dangerous ion emission from the test unit itself.
I wasn’t so sure about that last item.
“Space norm has been achieved, doc; we’re ready to proceed.”
“Everhardt? Initialize the IPDs4. 1% control signal to verify operational readiness.” He ordered with a gleam in his eyes.
I moved my mouse’s cursor over the array of virtual controls, located and adjusted the power supply slider to 1%, clicked on the ‘Set’ button beside it then, wincing at the unknown result, clicked on the unit start button.
A quiet ‘turbine spool-up’ tickled my ears and our camera monitor showed the bell of the IPDs4’s standard exhaust nozzle come alive with a dull red glow.
“O.M.F’n.G! The thing’s working!” Chen exclaimed in disbelief.
“Let’s let it idle at 1% for five minutes then I’d like to increase output by increments. Keep an eye on the readings. If things start to go ‘wonkie’ I want the experiment shut down immediately.”
“Roger that, doc.” Chen acknowledged with a mock salute and a huge grin.
A burning pain hit my abdomen.
The pain was such a surprise that I involuntarily slammed my eyes shut.
“Christi…Everhardt! You okay?” Chen whispered with audible concern from my right.
“Cramp.” I replied as I opened my eyes and gasped!
Monitor 1- the camera that was focused on the IPD’s output bell- was aglow with an eerie orange aura!
“Are you sure you’re okay, Everhardt?” Chen demanded, again in a whisper.
I slammed my eyes shut again as another wave of burning discomfort coursed through my gut.
The orange glow on monitor 1 was gone! Vanished.
Had I really seen the strange phenomena or was it some weird reaction to the sudden strikes of pain?
“IPD core temp?” Dr. Smithe requested.
Had fifteen minutes elapsed already?
“Core temp is well within calculated normal limits, doc. Think we should crack the throttle once?” Chen responded.
“Everhardt. Bump the control signal to 5% then back to 1% just as a trial.” Smithe ordered with an impish grin.
I adjusted the slider to 5% then clicked on the ‘Set’ button and immediately clicked the ‘Reset’ button beside it. The whole test vesse…chamber seemed to lurch!
“Holy effin Shit!” Chen declared as he quickly scanned his computer display. “That little bump sent the IPD output up past mag ten on the scale, doc! This baby is one powerful piece of tech!”
“Increase scale. Recorded readings?” Smithe requested, restrained excitement evident in his voice.
Chen pulled up another screen and reviewed what the sensors had collected in the brief second of our first test.
“Core temp never flinched. Power output increased exponentially by 110%. Holy shit! Test fixture load cells recorded twenty-four thousand pounds of thrust.
I felt Smithe’s hand gently touch my right shoulder.
“Everhardt? You may have just saved this project with your math skills. Damn fine job. Damn fine.”
The very high praise made my face warm and flush, but the pain that hit my abdomen eradicated all the good feelings! Again my eyes slammed closed and after the pain had subsided, I reopened them.
The orange glow on monitor 1 was back! If that wasn’t all, as I looked to Chen, he seemed to have a very slight orange glow around him too!
In wonderment, I took a moment to look around and at my hands in particular. Everything had the strange orange glow!
Even the bushes, seen from out the small windows in the doors, on either side of the narrow valley in which the garage and test chamber were located!
It was eerily beautiful!
“Everhardt?” Smithe asked in worry.
“I’m fine, doctor. Shall we continue?” I responded.
“Chen? Objections?” Smithe asked my coworker.
“None, doc. Let’s ramp this baby up.”
A sudden feeling came over me! Not the severe pain I had just experienced, but just a ‘feeling’- a somewhat foreboding…feeling.
“Dr. Smithe? I’d suggest we take baby steps and recommend one or two percent increases? Given the observed increase in thrust output, jumping too far might cause catastrophic failure of the test bed. We could lose the unit or even cause severe damage to us and our surroundings.” I advised.
“Recommendation noted and approved. Good thinking, Everhardt. Take the IPD to 2%.”
I made the needed adjustments and clicked the ‘Set’ button.
The orange glow displayed on monitor 1 increased in intensity!
I couldn’t believe my eyes!
“IPD core temp hasn’t budged! All other parameters are well under redline also, doc.” Chen reported enthusiastically. “We’re reading six thousand pounds thrust on the load cells. Damn, this is one hot mother!”
“Everhardt. Add another percent, if you will?”
“Ten thousand pounds on the cells and everything else still well within norms, doc.” Chen reported excitedly. His smile was almost splitting his face.
This was amazing! I was witnessing the next great leap into exploring the cosmos!
But what I found even more fascinating was the display on the monitor console! The orange glow had increased tenfold as I watched monitor 1.
“Everhardt? Another if you please?”
“Twelve thousand pounds and still in the green, doc!”
“Supply load?” Smithe requested.
I looked down to my screen and was truly amazed!
“Twenty percent load on the main supply grid.”
“What? But that’s impossible!” Chen screeched, his voice hitting the next octave. He leaned over to view my computer screen. “Shit! How did you afford the ‘High-test’ from the power company, doc? This IPD’s efficiency is through the roof!”
I brought up another window on my computer- one that calculated efficiencies.
“A calculated 70.6779% efficiency on power to thrust conversion, Dr. Smithe.” I reported.
I thought Chen was going to fall off his chair, unconscious.
Another intense pain hit my gut.
When I again opened my eyes the strange glow was gone again. I thought about how strange that was and began reviewing the events leading to my strange visions.
As an experiment, I closed my eyes tightly and thought about the strange glow.
I was surprised and also a little terrified that that had worked as the orange hue around everything had returned. I made several more attempts at enabling and disabling my strange sight; all of which were successful.
“Doc? I don’t think Everhardt is feeling too well. She looks paler than Dracula in the middle of a garlic field.”
“Let’s shut the test down, I think Everhardt might be having some kind of reaction to the Ion stream being generated.”
“NO! Let’s take it up another to five percent.” I demanded quickly.
The orange glow on monitor 1 increased again.
“What the hell just happened? Doc?” Chen questioned as he quickly scanned his screen full of parameters. “Still all in the green with twenty-four thousand pounds of thrust. This is incredible!”
“Everhardt? That was a safe move but don’t override my decisions again, understand?”
“But I didn’t do anything.” I exclaimed.
“Then how did the control signal, controlled from your console, move to 5%? The computer didn’t do it on its own.” Smithe countered.
Sure enough, my screen indicated 5% on the control signal slider.
“But I didn’t-”
“Well, I think we’ve done enough damage for one night. Congratulations, everyone. IPDs4 Test # 2 has been a complete success. Shut everything down and we’ll see you both tomorrow.” Smithe proclaimed as he turned and exited our makeshift control room with a very satisfied smile.
What happened next terrified me!
As Chen and I were ramping back the control signal and monitoring the IPD’s cool down, I happened to notice that the orange glow on monitor 1 seemed to be lagging, by a significant amount, the control signal.
“That’s strange.” I said out loud.
“What’s strange, Christina?” Chen looked over to follow my stare.
“Nothing. I just thought I saw residual emissions from the IPD.” I explained.
Chen brought up several different windows on his computer and examined each intently.
“Huh. You’re right. I’m reading a 0.25% positive feedback into the main supply grid. How can the IPD be acting as a battery now?”
“Quantum destabilization due to the ionic distortion field?” I proposed without even thinking.
“How’d you arrive at that solution?”
“Newton. His laws on momentum.” I answered. Specifically his third law. The one about actions/reactions? We excited ions to create thrust, therefore satisfying Newton’s third law, but because of the observed efficiency, not all was equalized to satisfy the equation. The remainder is slowly bleeding off as energy. If we check the recorded parameters, I think the IPD might just be acting as a generator as well as a propulsion system.”
“Yo! Bonus!” Chen exclaimed with a fist pump.
“Yeah, bonus, but how can we utilize it? What is the maximum load it will supply before IPD shutdown?” I proposed.
“All good questions, but I think it’s time for us to finish the IPD shutdown protocols and get some shuteye. We can discuss these new observations with Ol’ Smithie tomorrow.”
“Agreed. I’m ready to disconnect the main feed breaker and call it quits for the night.” I alerted as I pushed the physical push button to disconnect and rack out the main power breaker.
To my surprise monitor 1 continued to show a faint glow from the IPD’s output bell.
“Hmmm.”
“What’s wrong?” Chen asked as he de-energized our consoles and CCTV monitors.
“Nothing. I was just considering something to try tomorrow. Not important.”
 
 
Tonight I actually made it to my bed before succumbing to a deep, but vivid dream-filled slumber.
 
 

 
 
The intolerable insistence of my cell’s alarm demanded that I rise and start another day. As I opened my heavily weighted lids, I was met with the same orange glow from everything around me.
That wasn’t such a terrifying surprise as I’d thought and I calmly closed then reopened my eyes to dismiss it.
I giggled uncontrollably for almost fifteen minutes! Eventually, reason returned and I set about readying myself for another collegiate day.
As I made my way across campus, several of my fellow students paid me even more strange looks and comments than usual. Their distaste of me was very palatable today.
During my lunch break I made another entry into my medical journal, though I debated whether to include anything about my strange ‘near-infrared super vision’.
 
 
Friday, 22nd, April, 2102
During my evening work-study session, several excruciating pulses of pain accosted me in my lower abdomen. If I didn’t know better I’d swear they were menstrual cramps! After several minutes these ‘cramps’ faded to a more bearable level and by 10PM had faded completely. I fear that the serum is causing visions or hallucinations though as I’ve seen some strange visual anomalies such as auras around people and other living thing…
 
 
“Hey, Christina! Glad I found you. Doc wants us down in the garage. He wants our input on some things he’s found pertaining to IPDs4. Are you busy right now?” Chen greeted as he stopped in front of the bench I was sitting on.
“I’m good until 1PM.” I said as I closed my journal, picked up my backpack and stood to follow him.
“By the way, I think that blue streak in your hair is ‘reb’. Looks nice on you.” Chen complimented as we made our way to the Science Building and the steps leading down to the garage.
“Ah! Good! You both were able to make it.” Dr. Smithe greeted as we walked through the double doors.
“I’ve been reviewing the data from yesterdays test run and found some significant anomalies.” He began.
“Everhardt noticed the positive feedback last night after we shut off the main power, doc, is that the anomalies you’re talking about?”
“Indeed.” Smithe looked to me with a curious eye. “So you noticed the feedback last night? Tell me about it, Everhardt.”
I explained how I had noticed a… I called it a blip… on monitor 1 just after opening the main power breaker. I said nothing about the residual orange glow I saw escaping the IPD’s output bell.
Something suddenly struck me as funny about that mainstay of modern spaceflight.
Did the IPD need it at all? Could we achieve maneuverability and control by phasing a flat array in a way similar to the active RADAR system used on all military vehicles and ships for over a century?
“Everhardt! Could you possibly come back to us and actively engage in the conversation?” Dr. Smithe’s irritated voice pulled me back to the present.
“Sorry, doctor. I was just thinking about something potentially groundbreaking and sure to be controversial.” I revealed.
“Let’s hear it, Everhardt. We’re all working to the betterment of space travel, aren’t we?”
“Yes, sir. I was thinking…now this will be completely outside the box, so bear with me a moment.” I said as I hurried over to his white board and flipped his equations to the back and erased the little cartoonish dabblings I found on the reverse.
I began drawing a rough sketch of IPDs4.
“First off. Have either of you ever studied vacuum tubes?”
I observed two heads nodding.
“Good. Now… why can’t we apply that same concept- electron flow, i.e. ion flow- to the IPD? Basically, that is what it is anyway- a great big vacuum tube. We have our main power supply,” I quickly drew an ancient, simple triode next to the crude IPD image and pointed out via electronic diagram a battery connected between the cathode and anode. I repeated the step with the IPD. “And we have a control signal. Let’s call it a control grid, okay?”
I added a variable battery to the grid of the triode and repeated the action on the IPD utilizing the control signal input.
Dr. Smithe’s jaw dropped, as did Chen’s!
“Pure simplicity!” Smithe exclaimed after a few seconds of stunned silence. “Why, I’ve never seen my work explained in simpler terms. Ingenious, Everhardt, but that is far from radical thinking. I hope you have more than that?”
“Now that I’ve got your attention. Here’s the really radical twist.” I paused as I picked up the dry marker eraser. In one smooth motion I erased the traditional exhaust nozzle from the IPD’s output and also erased the end of the vacuum tube’s ‘glass’ envelope.
“Why do we need the nozzle? Wouldn’t it be easier to modulate a larger area…um… ‘emitter’ like they do with phased RADAR arrays in the military? We might even be able to capture and reuse some or most of the expelled ions if we also place a ‘recycle’ grid after the emitter at a calculated distance.” I proposed as I added another ‘grid’ after the ‘anode’ of the vacuum tube drawing. “I bet the efficiency would skyrocket.” I proposed.
“Care to calculate the size of this ‘emitter’ you propose, Everhardt? I’d like to test a prototype by the end of next week if at all possible.” Smithe asked with sparkling eyes. He might also have been drooling, too!
“I’ll try to have the calculations done over the weekend, doctor.” I volunteered.
“I want you and Chen to collaborate on this, Everhardt. The more we share the more we remain a viable research group. Understood?”
“Yes, doctor.”
“Good. And I like that defiant streak of blue hair you added, Everhardt.” Smithe complimented as he walked away from Chen and I. We remained speechless for several minutes.
“Well?” Chen asked, thereby breaking the silence. “How are we going to go about this, Christina?”
“Is the garage accessible over the weekend?” I asked, showing my ignorance to the actual hours of this place.
“As long as we’re listed as researchers on this project we can have full access any day of the week. So, it’s a date?” He answered then quickly blushed.
“I mean…are we on for working this weekend? Not that it would be considered a date or anything like that…I mean…I’ll see you back here around ten-ish in the ‘A’ of ‘M’?”
“Consider it a plan.” I said as I giggled at his awkwardness.
Tonight, as I slid gracefully between my sheets, I had a very good feeling about the coming days of the IPD project.
 
 

 
 
“Antarran! You must awaken within the next few standard minutes before you are considered late for your scheduled collaboration!”
That being said, I jumped to full consciousness and sprang from my bed in fear!
“What? Who? Who said that?” I demanded in a harried voice.
I received no reply. Only the sound of my cellphone’s alarm raging on my ‘milkcrate’ nightstand broke the apartment’s silence.
This morning, I actually used my bathroom mirror to view the efforts of my hairbrush.
I was astounded at what I saw!
Several streaks of brilliant blue highlighted my long straight mop of black hair. I separated them from the rest and held them out to examine them. They seemed completely natural and didn’t seem to be dyed or processed in any way.
Had the guys actually been complimenting me and not pulling my leg?
Or…
Had someone broken in and pulled this prank while I slept soundly?
I shuddered at the thought and immediately hurried over to the door to check the deadbolts and chain.
Everything was intact so I moved to examine the only two windows the apartment had and found them to be closed and locked with no sign of tampering.
How could this be happening? Was it some reaction or result of my gene therapy? Could it have something to do with the IPD project?
I really wasn’t sure, but I intended to find out so sought out my cell and initiated a call to Dr. Ramstein’s office.
Of course I was told to leave a message at the tone, which I did and requested someone ‘in the know’ call me back as soon as possible.
That complete, I continued to ready myself for the day.
 
 
Chen was waiting for me at the top of the stairwell and we descended them, entering the garage together.
I set to work reviewing the specifications for the small, exotic material wafer that the IPD used to produce ions. Within one hour I thought I had an upgraded formula refined. I just needed Chen to proof it.
“Ichi? Hey, I’m pretty sure I’m golden on the new emitter substrate calculations. You want to come over here and proof them for me?”
“Sure thing, Christina. Be there in a minute. Just let me finish this up.” He responded. From the way his voice sounded he was deeply engaged in something- maybe some side project the doctor had given him.
“Okay, let’s see what you got. I have to warn you up front that math was never my strong suit so I might ask you for clarification if I get confused.” He said walking over to the whiteboard filled to capacity with complex spatial computations.
“So what are you doing over there? Isn’t that that Cryo-chamber thing the doctor was working on?” I asked as I nodded over to the large, white, photon torpedo shaped chamber.
If I remembered correctly it was made of some specialized polymer that had been recently approved for space vehicles and was very resistant to micro-meteor strikes. Chen had told me just the other day that the stuff acted like flypaper and partially absorbed the tiny high velocity fragments before they could penetrate the vessel’s pressurized cabin. Though far from a perfect solution, it offered our astronauts better protection from deep space collisions than the more traditional metalic-polymer-ceramic honeycomb composite used for previous space missions. Chen said that Smithe hoped both his IPD and his refined version of the new composite sheathing could be utilized on the upcoming Kuiper Belt Exploratory mission still almost five years away.
“I was thinking that I could integrate our ‘spare’ um… ‘emitter’ modules into the doc’s Cryo-chamber and convert it into an escape pod or life boat for the next mission. If I can get the automation to play nice with the IPD modules it could pilot itself to the nearest orbital station or maybe even a colony on some closer habitable planet. With the occupant or occupants in Cryo, they’d be pretty safe and possibly remain dormant long enough to be rescued and survive.” He explained.
“I like it.” I smiled, but then a cloud shadowed my smile. “But will Dr. Smithe? He might think us overstepping or stealing his creativity.”
“I might’ve considered that if I hadn’t just walked in and heard you two brainstorming.” Smithe’s voice interrupted from somewhere among the piles of space tech.
“Dr. Smithe! I didn’t know you would be here this morning.” Chen grimaced as he searched for the owner of the voice.
“I’d debated on whether to interrupt you two. But I’ve heard some very good ideas in the hour that I’ve been here. Show me what you have so far, Chen.”
 
 
“Very interesting. Utilizing the legacy ‘emitters’ as attitude thrusters. What would you propose to use as a power source though?” Smithe asked as he rubbed his chin repeatedly.
“Well, if Christi…Everhardt’s theory about positive feedback from the IPD pans out, I might just be able to power both the Cryo equipment and a basic flight computer. With the nanopower circuits available today, something no bigger than a cellphone would contain more than enough processing power to do the job. A small hybrid battery combined with the positive feedback from the IPDs would be enough to power the Cryo-chamber for some time.” Chen theorized.
“Approximately how long would we be talking, Chen?” Smithe challenged.
“Well…um… I’ll have to do some research on power demands, get the positive feedback numbers from Everhardt, and get back to you?” Chen answered in an uncertain voice.
“Get on it and I’ll see what I can do to convince NASA that they need to incorporate a life boat or two into their modified Orion system.”
“You got it, doc!” Chen said brimming with excitement.
“Good. Now, what have you got for me, Everhardt?” Smithe turned to me.
“I was just going to have Chen go over my calculations for the new main emitter, doctor. Would you care to review them instead?”
“I’d be most happy to, Everhardt. By the way, I love what you keep doing to your hair. I even think you should color it all that shade of ‘royal’ blue. Very becoming…very exotic. In my opinion.”
“Um… thank you, Dr. Smithe.” I responded as I blushed profusely.
It took most of the remaining hour for Dr.Smithe to review and comment on my calculated area requirements and wafer composition for the proposed, prototype emitter. In the end, he could find no errors in my math and gave me approval to send it to our drafting department then to the process printer for manufacture.
The rest of my Saturday was spent catching up on my class assignments and composing a report on the fall of ‘Modern’ Society in Ancient Rome for Western Civ.
Chen and I had agreed to meet again tomorrow morning around 10AM.