Lifter: Proton Field #2 Page 2

  With a little impatience in his tone, Connor said from the doorway, “Can I come in yet?” Myr saw him looking around the kitchen, then he continued, “Why do you have all the cabinet doors open?”

  Myr snorted, “A little flaw in my plan.” She explained the issue to him. “I might have to put motors on the cabinet doors so they can open and close to command. Let me check the middle of the kitchen, then you can come in and help me figure out a better solution.”

  Once she’d walked around to be sure the generators worked throughout the kitchen Connor came in and headed for the breadbox. He said, “Maybe you could just take the doors off the cabinets and leave them as shelves.”

  “Mom won’t like the way that looks,” Myr said, “but it’s probably the best solution for now. I think putting motors on all the doors would be pretty difficult. Maybe we can just leave doors on the ones that you hardly ever get near.”

  “No skin off my back,” Connor said with a tiny shrug. “After all, as soon as I get near them, they open for me. It’s just that I won’t be able to close them.”

  “Come try to open the refrigerator. It’s hard to break the seal and get it open. If you can’t open it, I will have to install a motor on it.”

  Connor couldn’t open the refrigerator. As Myr started searching the net for ways to motorize its door, her mind kept coming back to how she might be able to power a portable focal point generator that’d let him go anywhere. She turned to Connor, “Do you think it would help if I mounted a generator up over your chair? Make it easier for you to move your hands around to do things?”

  “Oh my God yes! It’s not just the ability to move my hands! I can breathe a lot easier when my upper body’s being lifted away from my lower body. I’ve been thinking that your generators might let me stay off a ventilator during the day for a few more years, but was feeling bummed because I wouldn’t be able to leave the house.”

  A zing of joy shot through Myr at the thought that her invention might keep her brother off of a respirator.

  She and Connor both turned at the sound of the front door opening itself. “Hey, Mom!” Connor said, about as loudly as he could with his dystrophy. “I’m walking around in the kitchen!” He waved at the ceilings, “Myr’s been putting in the rest of the lifters. She says she’s going to put one on my chair so I can breathe easier even when I’m out of the house!”

  Myr thought she saw a mixture of happiness and dismay crossing Carol’s face as she made her way across the great room toward the kitchen, walking the strange way that people did when the lifters were taking almost all the weight off their feet. Myr figured it was happiness to see Connor standing in the kitchen, mitigated by the dismay of seeing her ceiling covered with a framework full of proton field generators.

  Carol arrived in the kitchen and looked around, a puzzled look on her face, “Why’re all the cabinets open?”

  Myr was trying to think how to explain it when Connor said, “Sorry, can you help Myr close them?”

  Myr turned to frown curiously at Connor, wondering what he was thinking. But of course, when Carol stepped over and closed the first one it immediately swung back open. Carol stared at it, then tried to push it shut again, feeling the resistance. She turned to look at her kids with a resigned expression, “The fields pull them open because they’re made of wood, right?”

  “Yeah,” Myr said. “When I’m finished setting it up, we can have our AIs tell the ceiling not to power the lifters when it’s you or I that’s underneath the sensors. Then we can go around in normal gravity and the doors’ll stay shut. Unfortunately, any time Connor gets near the cabinets, the doors will be coming open and he won’t be able to close them. I’m a little worried they might swing out and hit him.”

  Carol looked up towards the tops of the cabinets, “Do you think we could find some metal cabinet doors?”

  Myr shrugged, “Maybe, but they might not be a design you like. They’ll probably be really contemporary or modern.” She waved around, “Probably won’t match the rest of your decor.”

  Carol grinned, “I’ve recently come into some money. Maybe it’s time to redecorate the kitchen.”

  Myr gave her a big smile, “Great idea!” She bit her lip, “While we’re waiting for your new kitchen, maybe I could just take the doors off the cabinets?”

  “Sure,” Carol said as if it didn’t bother her, a big surprise to Myr. It quickly became clear why when Carol radically shifted the subject. “I and a couple of the nurses at work were looking at one of the online dating sites…”

  “All right!” Myr interrupted, “I’ve been telling you to take a look for years now!”

  “… and we found the perfect guy for you,” Carol finished. She gave Myr an amused snort, “Didn’t see that coming, did you?”

  Connor crowed, “Way to go Mom! It’s about time she had a love life!”

  “Oh, Mom!” Myr said, shaking her head, “I’m not going to…”

  “If meeting a guy online’s good enough for me, it’s good enough for you!” Carol said, glaring at her daughter. “You’ve got to at least look this guy over!”

  ******

  Mark MacGregor got in his truck but didn’t tell its AI where to go. Instead, his head sagged sideways to rest against the window. It’d been another shitty day. Gray and rainy like every freaking day since he’d come here to Northwest Oregon.

  To install another damned sewer system!

  He constantly told himself that the provision of clean water and good sewers saved more lives than just about any of mankind’s other endeavors. But he just couldn’t get his heart into it. He’d worked on sewer systems before, but something about working on a sewer in the mud, while you were wet, without ever seeing the sun…

  And then the mayor of this piece of crap town had come by to complain about how the project was a week behind schedule. Mark had told himself that the weather probably had the same effect on the mayor’s outlook as it did on his, but after standing there getting chewed out for about ten minutes, he’d finally snapped. “Get me some decent, gods-be-damned weather, for a couple of weeks and I’ll see about catching back up!”

  The mayor told him the weather was never decent there and Mark should have known that before he started the project. Then the mayor called Mark’s boss back in sunny Southern California. The boss had called to chew on the other side of Mark’s ass. After that, Mark had wandered around the job site in a kind of daze. He hadn’t gotten anything done and certainly hadn’t provided any leadership for his team. He’d seen the guys worriedly staring at him and then turning away to talk to one another.

  He was wondering whether to go get a bottle of whiskey, something that had always made his despair even worse, or just kill himself without even bothering to get drunk. He just didn’t think he could take it anymore. A little swerve into a bridge abutment would solve all his problems. He sure as hell couldn’t go back to his soulless little apartment.

  The other door of his truck opened. His foreman, Dan Thurber, dropped into the passenger seat with a thump, kicked his boots together to get the mud off of them and turned into the cab, closing the door behind him. “Hey bud,” he said somberly.

  Mark closed his eyes and tilted his head back despairingly, “What is it now?”

  “You need to get out of here,” Dan said.

  This statement seemed incongruous enough that Mark couldn’t process it. “Um, yeah, I’m about to go home. Or did you mean something else?”

  “Unless the home you’re going to is somewhere sunny, yeah, I’m talking about something else.”

  “Sunny? There isn’t any damn sunshine around here.”

  “Yeah…” Dan said, hesitating, then plunging ahead. “Look, man, I’ve lived here all my life. I’ve seen other guys come to this area and have the same kind of trouble you’re having. They get the slump in their shoulders and the five-mile stare in their eyes. Some kill themselves. Good guys, like you, just flush their life down the shitter. The psych people say som
e people just have to have sunshine. They call it SADs, but I don’t really know what that stands for. And, I don’t pretend to understand what’s wrong. Like I say, I’ve lived here all my life and it doesn’t bother me, but it’s pretty obvious something’s getting’ to you.”

  “Naw, man, it’s the mud and… and we’re behind schedule. The mayor and my boss are riding my ass…”

  “Sure they are, and that’s a major drag, I know. But I’ll bet you’ve had problems on other projects and you solved them. Hell, that’s what engineers do. Here, you’ve just been slowing down and then slowing down some more. Today you were practically at a standstill. You’re not leading the team anymore. You’re either hiding in your office or moping around watching us work without providing any direction. The guys are worried about you, man. You’re a boss they actually like and they’re afraid you’re going down.”

  Mark heard himself saying, “I’ll be fine. I’m just having a little…” He broke off, A little what? I was just thinking about killing myself. Is that little? “I…” His voice came out as kind of a rasping squawk as some kind of cramp overtook his voice box. “I…” Mark realized he really couldn’t talk. Worse, tears had started running down his cheeks.

  Dan put a hand on his shoulder, “You need help man. Best thing for you would be to get out of here, but if you’re not going to do that, you need to talk to somebody that knows more about this shit than me.” After a moment’s hesitation, he continued, “You want me to go down to the hospital with you?”

  Still unable to speak, Mark managed to nod.

  Mark glanced at the therapist who’d been working with him. She nodded. Though he didn’t want to, he finally asked his AI to connect him to his sister. What seemed like a long time passed, then he heard Ellen’s voice say cheerfully, “Hey Mark, what’s up?”

  Mark opened his mouth a couple of times, once again having difficulty speaking.

  Ellen said, “Mark? I think we’ve got a bad connection?”

  “No,” he rasped out, “I’ve just been… I’ve been having some trouble.”

  “Oh no! What kind of trouble? Can I help?”

  “Um, I quit my job.”

  “Oh my gosh, what happened?”

  “I, I got depressed… and…” After a moment’s hesitation, he rushed ahead, “My therapist says I should move away from here. To someplace with more sunshine, and… and, she doesn’t think I should be alone. I should live with someone who… who maybe cares about me, at least for a while.” He tried not to sound hesitant, instead to sound a little bit chipper, “Can I come stay in sunny Kansas with you?”

  “Of course!” There was a moment’s hesitation, “Shall I… Shall I come get you?”

  Mark managed a weak laugh, “I’m in Oregon. That’s a pretty long drive from Kansas.”

  “Yeah, but I can fly out… then fly back with you. If you’re having trouble I don’t want you to be alone.”

  “I haven’t completely fallen apart, I can… make a simple airplane flight. And, Sis, thanks for taking me in. It shouldn’t be for too long.”

  “Anytime Mark, anytime. For as long as you need. Have you already talked to Mom and Dad…? Or, should I call them?”

  “No! No, please don’t. Mom’ll get all weepy and Dad’ll be full of instructions… I don’t think I could take that right now.

  “Okay,” Ellen said sounding a little unhappy about keeping them in the dark. “Let me know when you’re going to get here, it’ll be great to have you around!”

  As he hung up, Mark thought, Yeah, sure. It’ll be a blast having your suddenly mopey little brother move in and droop around your place for a while.

  Chapter 1

  Rabbie’s mate came back into the cabin of his boat, Big Red, and said, “Got some visitors.”

  Rabbie frowned, “You told them we’re all chartered up for the next week?”

  “Suits. Don’t want a charter.”

  “What do they want?” Rabbie asked in some irritation.

  His mate, always taciturn, merely shrugged. With a sigh, Rabbie heaved himself to his feet and headed out onto the deck. Sure enough, there were a couple of guys there in suits, wearing good posture. Military, or at least ex-military, Rabbie thought. What the hell do they want? Aloud, he said, “Can I help you?”

  “Yes sir,” the younger guy said. “We’d like to talk in private if you don’t mind.”

  Yep, military, Rabbie thought. They may be acting polite, but, whether I mind or not, I’ll bet I don’t get any choice about having that talk. “Sure, come on board.” He led them back to the cabin and sat at the table, waving them to seats. “What’s this about?”

  Without introducing himself, the younger guy said, “A couple of months back, you took a charter run up north nearly a hundred miles. Not an area known for good fishing.” He paused as if waiting for Rabbie to speak, but Rabbie only lifted an eyebrow. After a moment the fellow said, “What was that charter about?”

  “Who are you and why do you want to know?” Rabbie said, already knowing exactly which charter they were asking about.

  In answer, both men pulled out leather folders and showed him their IDs.

  Rabbie frowned as he looked at the IDs, “DIA, what’s that? The CIA with a worse grade in school?” As soon as he said it, he thought to himself that these guys didn’t seem like the type who would enjoy his sense of humor.

  Without smiling, the older one said, “Defense Intelligence Agency. We do military intelligence. The CIA does civilian foreign intelligence and the FBI does domestic intelligence and security. What matters, is that the DIA does have the right and the duty to ask you questions about that trip because you were near some kind of bomb that went off up that way.”

  For a minute, Rabbie considered trying to pretend he didn’t know what they were talking about. But then he decided he didn’t really owe those science guys anything. Besides, he was a loyal United States citizen. “What do you want to know? I was just the transport, you understand, I’m not going to know any of the technical stuff.”

  “Who chartered your craft that day?”

  ******

  Mark felt better in Kansas. Being away from the overcast skies and misting rains of the Oregon coast, and, even better, living in a place with quite a bit of sunshine had lifted his spirits like his first therapist had promised. His new therapist was still worried though. Mark still had intermittent episodes of despair that ensured he himself recognized his recovery was incomplete.

  His therapist had suggested that he try to find something “bigger than himself” to tie into. At first, Mark had thought the woman was suggesting he start going to church. However, it quickly became clear that—while religion would be a fine choice in her opinion—what she really wanted him to do was to set a goal of doing something for his fellow man. Preferably, something that took him out of his normal rut.

  Mark had spent some time looking for charitable endeavors that might be able to use his engineering skills. He’d finally come across a charity dedicated to helping poverty-stricken people in the Philippines. It’d been organized by David Chua, a Filipino who’d come to the United States decades ago and done well in business. Appalled at the circumstances of some of his less fortunate relatives who’d remained in the southern parts of the Philippines, he’d started organizing mission trips to the area. Recently they’d been organizing a trip to build a community center in a Mindanao town called Lopana.

  When he’d mentioned this idea to his therapist, she’d been practically giddy. He’d be going someplace new. There’d be a lot of sunshine. He’d be meeting new people and together they’d be doing something worthwhile for their fellow man. He’d have joined an organization with a higher purpose. Her only concern had been whether he could afford to stay off work for the six weeks of the mission. However, Mark didn’t have many costs in his life and had been earning a good salary as an engineer. He’d saved quite a bit. Besides, Mr. Chua covered many of the costs. Mark was expected to pay for his plane fa
re and incidentals, but Chua rented tents for the volunteers and paid for most of the food. Mark thought it was surprising that Chua could get many Americans to go over to the Philippines and rough it in tents, but that was part of Mark’s attraction for the trip. Being in a big tent with a bunch of other people sounded good to him. Much better than all alone in a hotel room like he’d been on many of his work assignments.

  He’d been imposing on his sister and her family for several weeks, so he’d been excited to tell them about the mission. Instead of enthusiasm for the trip, Ellen had displayed concern, “All I hear about Mindanao seems to be violent. Isn’t that the part of the Philippines where there’ve been some kidnappings by Muslim extremists?”

  Mark shrugged, “Yeah, but that’s because bad news is what’d be reported here in the States. There are millions of people in Mindanao and only a few kidnappings. We hear about them because they kidnap people they think have money. Those people frequently come from other countries like the United States.”

  “Exactly! And you’ll be from the United States! I like the fact that you found a charitable endeavor to undertake, but can’t you do it somewhere else?”

  Mark snorted, “Ellen, the people who need charity seldom live in crime free locations with plenty of police, you know?”

  “I know,” Ellen said uncertainly, but then gained resolve. “I know, but can’t you find someplace just a little bit less…”

  Mark shook his head, “Hey, it’ll be fine. This is where I’ve chosen to go. I’m not asking you if you think it’s a good idea, I’m just telling you about it and hoping for some support. “Besides,” he gave her a wink. “If anyone’s going to get kidnapped or murdered on a charitable trip to an impoverished location, it’d just as well be someone who’s semi-suicidal, don’t you think?”