SUNGLASESS AND ROCKETS Part 2: The Machine

FAST FOOD

The bewildering asseveration won another "What?!" from Darwin and me.

"That's right," the doctor responded calmly. "It is not physics from Earth," he checked the time. "Let's eat and then I'll bring you up to date," he grimaced and arched his eyebrows. "We must be strong for what's next..."

There was no doubt about it. However, our boss just piqued our interest again with the sting of uncertainty. It had to be extirpated at once for his subordinates to have a peaceful meal.

That was not possible.

A sharp gesture was enough for the doctor to hold back all questioning and postpone it until after dinner.

So, then, we had no choice but to comply with the orders of the hungry captain and follow him to the rear of the ship, which appeared to be about 18 or 20 spacious feet away from the flight deck. By the way, the two rows of lights that illuminated the cabin reached the roof of this new section, which looked more like a container: there were a couple of oblong windows on the sides—white walls of a marked concavity—and it lacked seats. Nothing was adhered to the floor, except for some black strips. The walls were saturated with control panels and cabinets of all sizes which left an ample, obstacle-free central space.

Perfect for loading. Perfect for carrying heavy machinery, I thought looking around. Would the ship be used to transport the booty that the Vampires were planning to steal from Mama Bat?

I interrupted my lucubration when the doctor called our attention to a strange cabinet at the rear apex of the container. It had four receptacles and several hoses behind an acrylic small window.

It was the kitchen.

Without hesitation, the doctor hurried to open an adjacent drawer, and took out three silvered envelopes—packed food—and embedded them confident in one of the receptacles. Next, he announced that he was going to make dinner. Then, while pushing buttons, he indicated the functions of the electric home appliance.

I wasn't paying much attention. The least thing on my mind was the next meal.

In fact, dinner went by without a big fuss. Not even the doctor spoke. We ate and drank not really aware, but obviously worried.

We even forgot about the weightlessness of the environment in which we were immersed. Even when we got ourselves ready to eat on one side of the kitchen; we locked our feet into Velcro strips fastened to the floor and we sat in the air, taking our places around an imaginary table.

Anyway, the unmistakable signal used by the doctor to get back to the important issues—a soft stroke with his hand to comb his tangled beard—punctually appeared to begin the after-dinner conversation: the empty packages of our food floated placidly over the invisible table; Darwin and I, still sipping our lemonades, stopped sucking and eagerly waited for the doctor's words.

"Well," he started. He moved away the package in front of him and left it floating about. "Let's talk," he put his hand on his chin and frowned, pensively. "We were saying..."

"Extraterrestrial physics," Darwin completed urgently.

The doctor assented.

"Exactly, let's begin with the extraterrestrial physics. It happens that—"

"Wait a minute," my friend interrupted and looked at me alerted. I knew he was going to start asking the crucial questions and I approved. My cohort turned to the doctor. "Are you suggesting that they made contact on the moon...?" He took a deep breath and fixed his stained glasses. "Or perhaps you are an extra—"

"Say what?" the doctor was startled, agape. "For God's sake! I didn't mean extraterrestrials' physics. I mean that the physics to manipulate the fundamental forces has been developed in the moon, by humans. It does not exist on Earth."

Darwin and I exchanged glances, and then we looked at the doctor.

"Aaah."

I confess that I also had harbored the same suspicion. I admit that it was soothing to know that Mama Bat did not shelter a colony of rare beings with huge eyes and disproportionately small bodies...

Above all, it was reassuring to confirm that the doctor was as much of an earthling as Darwin and I, and that he wasn't wearing a disguise.

Anyhow, out there in space it wouldn't have been so hard to accept the idea of doctor Masterton being an extraterrestrial, after all, many times on Earth he did behave as if he were from another world...

What was certain was that the doctor hurried to continue:

"A machine so powerful, the SVM, can only be conceived when you know the theory of 'Shields-Vacuums', S-V, thoroughly. I need your undivided attention."

When he said these last words, he got up from his seat, well, floated actually and pushed himself to an upper corner of the opposite wall. He grasped some ledges and looked at the rough surface closely, as if he wanted to examine it.

Darwin and I looked at each other surprised.

"What's the matter?" I asked.

"Dinner is over, bon appetite."

His two assistants were looking at him wondering, still sitting at the "dining room table".

"Don't get up," he uttered tilting his head slightly. "I'm just going to perform a visual acknowledgement of the ship..."

Then, from that corner near the ceiling and beginning an inspection task, the doctor started his narration:

"Everything began during the completion of the Manhattan Project..."