Wired (part two)

Jakob replied, “To put it simply, yes. On a small scale, it could have been a very useful technology. Everything from children’s toys, to magicians, even for aesthetic purposes like hiding an unsightly gate on the path leading up to a country estate. The applications were nearly limitless. Who doesn’t want something to disappear, at some point? Although, as my work progressed further from theory and closer to prototyping, I noticed a sea of benefactors forming on one side, and adversaries on another. The pressure was building. Warhawks were lining up, taking notes for soldier augmentations and vehicles. With them, came the defense contractors, tempting me with lucrative deals of fame and fortune. All of them, harpies, singing me onto the rocks.” Jakob took a deep breath and sighed before adding, “I am a simple man of simple tastes. I have dedicated my life to science and engineering, and it has treated me well. However, I could not bear the weight of completing my research on the subject. Our government couldn’t adequately protect me from an enemy, if one were to infiltrate my circles, so I tore it all down. That ended my career. As you know, the same men who came to me with dreams of treasure, instantly blacklisted me afterwards.” Jakob and Beat spent a few quiet seconds listening to the fireplace crackle, as Beat lit his cigar with a wooden match. “Forgive my rudeness, Jakob. I have not offered you a drink, as I sit here and enjoy this bourbon. Would you like something?”, Beat asked. Jakob, lost somewhere in the hypnotic flames flickering before him, took a moment to speak up. “I shouldn’t. But in these years, and in your company, I feel obligated. I’d like some whiskey, on the rocks. Just enough to wet my teeth. Funny how something as fundamental as spit in your own mouth recedes with age.”
 
Beat stood up and made his way over to a crystal decanter and some sparkling crystal glasses, finely cut with a row of diamonds around the circumference of the middle of the glass. He placed a large ball of ice directly in the glass and covered it with a few fingers of whiskey. “Not too much,” Jakob reminded him as he poured. Beat chuckled and walked back to Jakob, bending slightly at the waist to meet Jakob’s trembling hand with the drink. “Thank you,” Jakob said, as he carefully took a sip and paused to enjoy the vapors on his tongue. “This is a very good whiskey; my mouth is watering for the next drink. Extraordinary”, he said as he took another sip, a little longer this time, really savoring the flavor. Beat chuckled again, and chimed in. “I’m glad you appreciate it,” Beat said, before working on his bourbon glass a little himself. This amused Jakob, who was already beginning to relax. Beat didn’t have an angle here. He wasn’t trying to get the man drunk to pry his secrets out of him. It wasn’t that kind of friendship. There was a mutual respect between them. Slowly, deliberately, Jakob examined the glass as he turned it in his hand, held up to the fire light. He was considering something.
“Beat, on a scale of one to ten, how easily can we discuss private things, here?”, Jakob asked. Beat knew what was coming next. The worst part about holding on to old secrets was the ceaseless desire to share them with someone you really knew and trusted. Beat had worked under Jakob before; he had never known Jakob as a young man, but as possibly the smartest man he had ever met regardless of age. He caught on to the suggestion. “Jakob, old friend, the devil couldn’t hear you in my home. I have taken so many precautions. This place is a ten out of ten, maybe an eleven. Considering the nature of my work, you can see why.”

This was enough for Jakob; he trusted Beat and if Beat said it was private, there was no doubt. “I would expect nothing less of an investigator. Perhaps now we can discuss the solution,” Jakob said as he laid his half-empty glass on a coaster before reaching down to his briefcase. He produced a rolled-up cylinder of fabric from the bag, along with a small handheld device that was black and shapeless. He unrolled the cylinder flat across the table, and extended two silky strands from the device, attaching a strand to each edge of the fabric. One on the far left corner, the other on the far right. Beat watched the process with breathless anticipation. Jakob spoke up. “The culmination of all my work, all worlds combined. But I need a power source to complete the magic trick. A drop of blood will do.” “A drop of blood?”, Beat asked incredulously. “Yes. I have a tool for such a task that retracts into the control lump. Lend me your thumb”, replied Jakob. He moved a hidden switch on the shapeless lump, revealing a sharp, short triangle, with a small ring around its base to collect the ‘energy’. Beat complied, pressing his thumb onto the sharp pyramid hard enough to break the skin, supplying a few drops before the mechanism snapped shut, so as not to leak any blood. “Good, that should do”, Jakob said, before flipping another hidden switch on the lump, revealing another mechanism. A singular, pitch black button. Featureless and unremarkable. As Jakob pressed the button, he let out a quiet ta-da, to match the magic unfolding.