Dave Learns The Truth

PerfectWorld story (The NOW)

Dave Dubois walked away from his smoldering junkbucket of a car, tucked well off the remote lane, hidden behind a copse of bushy trees and snarled overgrowth. He hated that car but it was his only transportation, and if he was to make it to Los Angeles in time for the job interview on Friday, he'd need it fixed and not stripped.

He was in the middle of Boonie County, State of Nowhere. His tattered U.S. map had flown out of the window 300 miles back and he didn't have a clue where he was right now, but at this point in the journey all he had to do was head west. Of course now he was walking east; he'd seen a tiny town a few miles back and figured he could snag a pay phone or find a tow truck.

He'd been a double major a few years earlier; electrical and computer engineering, and got a great job right out of his college. Soon after, though, the economy tanked and the old adage 'last hired, first fired' hit him especially hard. Unemployment was shooting northward and good jobs had disappeared, but his old college roommate Joe Hobart lined up an interview with his boss Mr Reston over at FutureTech in Santa Monica. "He's an amazing guy and he's looking for someone sharp," Joe had mentioned over the phone. "I can't tell you what he's working on, but it's sensational stuff. Get out here! You know it sucks in New York in winter. Hey, even if the job doesn't work out, at least you can be homeless on the beach."

He'd been on the road for two days when his 'check engine' light came on. He ignored it for awhile, but kept a worried eye on his temperature gauge. When it inevitably climbed he found a safe hiding spot and pulled over. Now he was scanning the small two-lane road for signs of human activity as he made his way back to East Whoville (or whatever), cursing his bad luck.

He had been walking for about fifteen minutes when he heard an odd noise behind him in the distance, pricking an early memory of the Batmobile. He jammed his thumb out without turning around and waited for the vehicle to zoom past him-- people were wary of hitchhikers in this economic climate for fear of carjacking. He was surprised to hear it slow down, and shocked when he turned around.

For it was no car at all, but instead a long, tall truck. Not an eighteen wheeler, not an RV; this was a design he wasn't familiar with. It was sleek and windowless, with smooth metallic sides tapering towards the back. Dave could see no doors. The cab was surrounded in slick black glass, opaque and formidable.

But it was floating! There were no wheels at all, and the entire vehicle was hovering an inch off the ground! Dave's jaw dropped but had no time to reflect, as a black glass panel separated at a previously invisible seam and rolled upwards to reveal an instrument-laden truck interior. The amiable driver smiled and said, "Hop in, fella!" Dave, moving instinctually, hopped in. He had questions, many questions, but couldn't seem to find his tongue.

The driver was about as normal as the truck was different. Mid fifties, a salt and pepper shock of tousled hair, tanned and smiling. "I'm guessing that was your rig hidden in the trees back there," he said as Dave nodded mutely. "I'm Jake. Let's go get 'er!" He stuck out a beefy paw which Dave shook, still a little stunned by the oddity of events.

Jake hit a button on the console and spun the steering wheel. Reacting like a speedboat, the long truck reared up slightly, spun on its axis and began floating back the way it had come. Dave could feel no road vibrations and hear no motor other than that whining sound. The truck felt like it was floating on water, but reacted as if it were pivoting on a post attached to dry land. Finally he got his voice back and said enthusiastically, "Cool truck, Jake!"

"Ya like it? I designed it myself!" Jake smiled a toothy grin. "Hey, here we are!"

Startled, Dave looked outside and sure enough, they were alongside the old beater, a native American car sending up wispy smoke signals. Jake touched a video screen on the dashboard which brought up a series of menu options, settling on one marked 'Tow Mode'.

Rear cameras activated and Dave could see the back of Jake's truck hinging upward. Then a broad steel bar made of connected rings extended out, moving toward Dave's car. It reached under the heap with the dexterity of a wary python and hooked onto the chassis' tow points, then pulled Dave's car smoothly into the back of the truck. Dave watched the screen in astonishment. "Holy cow!"

Jake chuckled. "It's a neat machine, all right. I had my team assemble it, but I insisted on being the test pilot."

Dave asked, "Pilot? Don't you mean driver?" but as he spoke, he had a rousing feeling that this truck was even more versatile than it had demonstrated thus far. He was not disappointed.

With his car stowed inside and the back fully closed, Jake returned to the screen and found the menu 'Taxi'. Surprised, Dave asked, "Calling me a cab, Jake?"

Jake smiled at him playfully and punched the button. The truck shot forward, forcing Dave into his seat. "Hang on!" Jake shouted over the sudden din.

The speedometer raced to 160 mph when the truck suddenly tilted up sharply. Dave's heart missed a beat as the thought crossed his mind that this, an experimental vehicle, could be failing right now, affording him his last moment of life. Why was he so stupid? Dave chided himself in that instant. Who was this guy, even?

He had made yet another rash decision in taking a ride with this stranger, entrusting his car and his life to the man and was yet another in a string of impulsive choices he had made in recent years, trying to suppress his premonition of fruitless futility. He tried switching majors from drama, to art, to english and finally engineering inside of 2 years. Then moving away from his small-town home. Breaking up with his longtime girlfriend. Alienating himself from his conservative, bible thumping family. Moving into the city from his home on in the sticks. Experimenting with drugs. Questioning his sexuality. Even questioning his belief system.

What the hell did he want? What was he hoping to gain by wresting himself from his comfort system? And now, before can arrive at a decent answer, he's going to be squashed like an possum in the road at the hand of some devil-may-care inventor with a death wish...

But they didn't crash, or flip wildly and get torn to shreds by g-forces; instead they soared into the sky in a grand, sweeping arc, shooting above the clouds into the crystalline blue, leveling off and heading due west at a comfortable 1600 mph, if his speedometer was to be trusted.

Dave blinked in disbelief. Outside he could see the craft now had sharply slung back wings he was sure weren't there moments ago. He whistled slowly-- there had been so many incredible events in the last 30 minutes and he hadn't sorted any of it out yet. A stranger with a floating truckplane just happened by, used a telescoping metal elephant's trunk to drag his ailing car into the back and flew off into the sky with him, at mach 2! It was an unusual day all right. But even so, he was certain of one question he needed answering:

"Umm, Jake... where are we going?"

"What's your name, son?" Jake corrected course a bit.

"Er, Dave, sir, but..."

"Dave, where you headed?"

"Los Angeles, sir... but..."

"No, I mean in life, son. What's your plan?"

"Oh! Um, I was on my way to a job interview with my friend Joe Hobart's boss out in Santa Monica. I'm an engineer." Dave paused, wondering why he was answering all of Jake's questions, without getting an answer to his own. He repeated, "So Jake... where are we going?"

Jake chuckled. "Santa Monica Airport. Coincidence, huh?" He made a tight, sweeping bank past a range of snow-topped mountains.

Too close at that speed, Dave thought, so close that the ground below them was blurring.

Jake spoke. "I love flying. Not just riding in an aircraft... actually flying the heap. I feel like the king of all birds up here, like if I pushed it a little higher I might actually be able to glimpse the Gates of Heaven." He paused. "Don't you agree?"

Dave, sensing a theological trap, wriggled out with, "Fascinating. Seeing the world beneath me so tiny and yet so huge, I feel like Superman. Too bad he's fiction." Dave was well versed in religious subtext; his father was a fire-and-brimstone minister and his mother, a perfect minister's wife. Dave himself was a firm believer in doubt; nobody was going to brainwash the facts out of his head. He changed the subject. "What else are you working on besides this great new truckplane?" Now that was a subject he was interested in.

"My R&D department is always buzzing with new ideas, but the one I'm personally involved with is another transportation idea." He paused for effect. "It's a train!" Jake seemed dazzled.

Dave was not. "A train? Wasn't that invented in the 1800's?"

"Er, yes. I meant a magnetic levitation train."

"Like the ones at Disneyland? They've been around awhile, too, Jake." Dave was a little disappointed.

"Not these. They're brand new. We call it the VeeStreak, and they can travel upwards of 18,000 miles an hour."

"Don't you mean 180 miles an hour? Anything moving at 18,000 mph would melt from air friction!"

"True, Dave, true. That's why we eliminate the air!"

It was silent in the cockpit, only the faint twitter of instruments, as Dave mulled over a train trip that would take just 40 minutes from New York to Los Angeles. No air friction! No air? He was sure you couldn't just build a device on the front of the train to divert ALL the air from contacting the front of a train, but a heat shield could keep the train from melting AND use the energy to help run the train... but could they create a heat shield which wouldn't degrade too rapidly? And what about birds, animals crossing the tracks and just dumb drivers? Wouldn't the ensuing wreck create a public outrage which would shelve a plan that dangerous? David had a lot of questions, but the only one that made it past his lips was, "Are you bullshitting me?"

Jake shook his head and grinned, changing the subject with a gleeful "You're not likely to forget this landing, son!"

Choosing the 'Descent' menu, the truckplane ceased all forward movement in a powerful reverse surge, and began to drop like an elevator freed from its bindings and safeties. They were far from the surface, but Dave's stomach felt about two stories above his head; the drop was a six flags screamer! Dave desperately reviewed his life then, until the roof split off a half dozen shimmering, translucent rotors which began spinning furiously in the draft, slowing their drop to a gentle leaf flutter. He expected a slight bump as they landed, but there was none; just a forward motion as they floated out of a broad flat field and taxied onto the Santa Monica streets. He marveled at the smooth glide of a wheelless car and wondered what technology was in play. All in good time, he thought.

Dave was about to suggest they find a nearby service station for his hunk of a car sitting in the back but Jake waved off his words. "We're taking it to my guys and there won't be a discussion."

Dave was still reeling about this guy. What the hell was he-- was he a crazed genius inventor, or a carefree trust-fund fellow-- or was he a time-traveler from the future? What are the odds that this was some random occurrence, and how did he get us halfway across the country in an hour and change? Most worrisome of all, Dave wondered... what was happening next?

They hadn't driven more than five minutes when Jake turned into a wide driveway leading to the sub-basement of a large modern building. They passed under the building's logo planted in the attractive landscaping: FutureTech HQ. Dave sat up, surprised, thinking 'That's where my interview is supposed to be!'

He noticed the truck was now driving itself, and threading its way through a complex series of driveways and turns, then stopped and powered down, the whine deepening to a purr before morphing into silence. A team of lab-coated men surrounded the truck; the cab doors came open and Dave followed Jake to an elevator bay.

Jake called over his shoulder, "Make the junker new again, boys!"

"You know, I really should check into a hotel and get ready for my interview--" Dave began, but Jake waved him quiet again. Dave was beginning to find that a little, well, annoying.

"There's a guest wing upstairs, and a room is being prepared for you as we speak. Later, though. Right now there's a few people I want you to meet." The elevator doors sprang open and...

"Joe Hobart!" Dave said incredulously as the young man sprang at him in the foyer. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Dave Dubious! Good to see you, you old grouch!" Joe shouted, pumping Dave's hand. "I see you've met my boss! So Jake, what'd you think of my good buddy Dave Dubois, AKA Dave Dubious, or The Doubting One?"

Jake laughed, eyes turning to Dave, twinkling. "Gotcha! Hey, it looks like your mainspring's snapped-- put your tongue back in your mouth!"

It took a long moment, but Dave caught up with events and said to Jake, "Wait. You're Joe's boss-- Mr Reston?"

Merrily Jake said, "And yours too, if you'll take the job! You've been recruited, son! Hey, now don't go fainting just yet... the surprises haven't ended!"

Jake and Joe flanked the weak-kneed Dave and helped him back into the elevator. "Down, all the way," Joe said, and the elevator car dropped like the truckplane had. At the bottom, Dave was astonished to see an enormous cave, ragged rock walls fading in the distance, containing a large construction project underway. Welding sparks, acrid smoke, skull-pounding noises and scurrying workers rounded the scene. At the near end of the cave was a large, polished, circular hollow, bathed in deep shadow. The whole thing looked familiar but Dave couldn't quite place it yet.

Reston whistled, a resounding thweet in this din, and a man in blue coveralls and white hardhat hustled over. His face was obscured by welding goggles. He held out a gloved hand to Dave and shouted something incomprehensible in the din. Jake guided them to an overview room and shut the door. The silence was momentarily painful.

Jake said, "Dave, meet the inventor of that fast train I was talking about, the VeeStreak. Rick Payne."

"Pleasure," Rick said. "I know Jake has quizzed you on all this. So, have you figured out how my train works, one engineer to another?"

At that moment all the pieces suddenly fell into place and Dave was certain he knew how the VeeStreak worked. His eyes shone and lips quivered as he spat out his guesstimate. He hoped he was right to impress his new boss, and was almost certain he was.

"You stuck a train inside of a Vacuum Tube?!"

POSTSCRIPT

I'm guessing Dave's not quite so Dubious after all this, huh? For those of you who are not following this blog from the beginning, Dave just figured out what we already knew from reading the post 'The First Major Step: New Education': They were constructing a Vaccu-Streak

Airless Maglev tube. Like Dave said-- "... a Vacuum Tube!?"

I'm not privy to America's reticent technological development programs and so can't tell you with any accuracy if what I'm suggesting is under construction anywhere... or even if the technology is viable. Oh, I know it is POSSIBLE-- in a lab, under rigorous safeguards, virtually anything is possible-- but could it be an actual method of transit in the future?

Since America seems to move technology forward in baby steps where the safety of people is concerned (or should I say, where the potential for lawsuit or negative public opinion is concerned?) as they have with the space program, I don't imagine the VeeStreak is headed for train stations anytime soon. However, a shorter and smaller one specifically designed for the rapid movement of materials and packages between two distant buildings of a large manufacturing plant could be in use right now!

Maybe.

But even if it isn't happening, it is certainly being thought of. We humans are always looking for a better way to traverse long distances, and since Star Trek's beaming technology is still a long way off, we'd better plan for more conventional Earthbound travel.

I myself would love to get on a train in New York at 10:00 am and exit in Los Angeles at 7:45 am (local time-- I'm not talking time travel here, people, just a 45 minute trip). Air travel is ponderous by comparison; even with the moderately fast speeds achieved we slow ourselves down at the terminals with paperwork and security checks and crowds and extensive safety checklists that can add as much as 50% to the time needed for a cross-country jaunt and could easily double a shorter journey. And that's not to even mention the dangers of operating during inclement weather.

But I get ahead of myself. In future posts we will be observing as America becomes the first Perfect World country, warts and growing pains and all. I'm excited to envision a world designed from the ground up with human cooperation as the main design component.

Yes, I'm a 'glass-half-full' writer... actually, I'm more a 'glass overflowing' writer. It works for me. At least on paper.

Even if the paper gets wet and wrinkly.

Copyright 2009 Bruce Ian Friedman