Thank you for taking a little side excursion into my new novel. This is the rest of Chronolocity Chapter 1. I am taking a little break from the second half so there will probably be a “normal” (whatever that means) blog this week. Thank you for your support and let’s keep on the journey together.
“Sounds like our junior high before the State came in and gave them some other healthier drink choices.” He snickers. Mr. Quasmick had a funny habit of twirling the ends of his mustache and stroking his beard when he began thinking. That’s when a student knew his brain was processing.
Levy chuckles. “It’s all because we couldn’t go on vacation last year.”
“Go on,” Mr. Quasmick replies.
“We couldn’t see old friends in Oregon because the gas prices were so high. My dad said we had to stay home for the summer.”
“That’s what caused you to start on all of this? That makes sense.”
“I had heard that there were all kinds of alternatives to gasoline out there,” Levy continues. “Did you know that gas in Brazil is only six cents a gallon?”
“I did hear that on the radio. They use a lot of ethanol, don’t they?”
“Yes, it’s refined from corn or sugar cane.” Levy taps a can of soda he had nearby. “It’s sugar based. So is this stuff.”
“You thinking, well, you are always thinking.”
“I figure why reinvent the wheel when someone already did some of the work.”
Mr. Quasmick twirls and strokes.
Levy rolls on. “Soda is cheap. Have you ever noticed how many people never finish a soda? A lot of it gets wasted.”
“Corn has to be refined and turned into sugar. This stuff is already in liquid form and needs less fermentation time.”
Tick, Tock save time on the clock.
“So, is that why I’ve seen you recycling cans in the cafeteria?”
Levy wagged his finger at his teacher. “Exactly! My buddies give me a hard time for lugging this around.” Levy opens his backpack. He pulls out a water bladder from his dad’s camel bag. Instead of water it held a thick dark liquid.
“I recycle what’s on the inside and my buddy Raul recycles the rest.”
“Ha, it’s like how the Indians used every part of the buffalo.”
“I haven’t heard that before.”
“They never wasted. When they killed a buffalo they were very efficient.”
“Levy? Is that what I think it is?”
“Yep, it’s recycled soda.” Levy shakes the bag. It gurgles back.
“The lid is tight?”
“Hello, neat freak. Of course.”
“It’s kind of sticky and gross, but it does have a kick to it.” He watches the bubbles flow and merge.
Mr. G.Q. crinkles his face.
“Not for drinking though.”
“Wow! No, I really, wow, I am excited about this, Levy.”
“My mom shakes her head with all my containers of brewing soda. I tell her at least I’m not going to drink it all.”
“I’m sure she’s relieved.”
Levy unscrews the lid and carefully filling up the reservoir on top of the engine. He primes the pump by depressing a soft plastic bubble three times. Levy takes one more look at the Sugar Daddy before he speaks.
“I was going to save this for the presentation after school but do you want to see it work?”
Mr. Quasmick nods his head. He had the look of a kid in a candy store. “Oh yeah. Crank it up, Levy. This is exciting.” He jabs in a half-joking manner. “If this works soda companies’ stock will be a hot item. I wonder which one I should invest in?”
He’s as bad as I am with new inventions. He’s still a kid at heart. He knew how to really relate to kids and make learning fun. Levy made a mental note to vote for Mr. Quasmick for the Teacher of The Year.
Heck, the century.
Mr. G.Q. had his face in his hands. “I heard about an electric car that also runs on gas. It gets 1000 miles on a tank.”
“I heard that too.”
“If this becomes something how about making a motorhome that runs for miles and miles on this stuff.”
“That’s something to think about.” Levy put the lid on and wiped off any drips or drops.
“My wife and I want to retire in a few years. We could drive it across country and advertise for you.”
“Thanks for your support. One step at a time.” He claps his hands together and rubs them expectantly. Looking at the housing and gives stubborn bolt the stink eye. He says a quick silent prayer.
One more try. Don’t embarrass me.
That bolt was still taunting him. His dad called this obsessed behavior. He just wanted everything perfect.
“Just one more adjustment, Mr. G.Q…eh I mean,” Levy caught himself. “Sorry. Mr. Quasmick, then, we’re ready.” Levy felt his cheeks flush red.
Mr. Quasmick pats his shoulder and gave him a wink. “Good, that will give me a minute to check on a couple more projects before the bell rings. Can you give me five minutes?”
Mr. Quasmick shot him two thumbs up as he went to the next station. He pulls out his wrench. Levy carefully braces his arm on the table and slips the wrench on the bolt. “Alright, you stubborn thing. I am smarter and stronger than you are.” Levy squeezes and strains.
“You will turn and cooperate not bend and snap.” With a wave of his hand he did his best Jedi mind control bit. Sucking a few deep breaths he squares off to face that notorious copper bolt.
“Okay, you darn pig-headed metal head, why don’t you tighten?”
l Okay, maybe I need to chill, but not now, not today and not for this.
Levy grips the wrench in his right hand and locks on the bolt and his left on the frame. He grips so tightly that he can feel the blood pulsating in his hand and wrist. Levy gave the bolt an exasperated final twist. The bolt snaps off at the head and spins off.
The bolt thuds into his eyebrow.
“GAWWWWCK! MY EYE!”
Like a chain reaction a number of connecting wires and pieces broke violently off. A number of tight copper wires snap!
PING! PAANG PING!
He tries to move his arm out of the way but he was a millisecond too slow Levy turns abruptly in pain and a trio of lightning fast wires slash his left forearm like a wild cat’s razor nails.
“You…stupid…!” Levy cries out. He holds his eyebrow and with his bleeding arm. It hurt but he is angrier than anything. “I give up, you worthless piece of junk! Why am I wasting my time on you?” Levy pounds the lab table with his good fist.
It’s just a minor thing. Calm yourself down.
A voice in his head said softly.
You know what happens when you get angry.
Levy pushes back that warning alarm. In rage he kicks his bag and loose pieces on the floor. Levy’s eyes were aflame. Everything burns blazing red. Even his breath feels like raging smoke.
“How many stinking hours have I wasted on you? “Levy looks at the Sugar Daddy. He is already beginning to burn the outer image with his vision. It seems to stare back with two gear-like eyes begging for a second chance. Levy’s claw-like fingers broke that wish almost instantly.
“It’s too late for puppy dog eyes!” He growls. “Can you see the red in my eyes? Whew boy you are in for a world of hurt!” At that moment, for the moment he did see red. He focuses his pent up rage on the shivering metal invention.
If Levy had any upper body strength he would have torn his invention in half. No such luck. Amidst gasps and screams, which seemed worlds away, Levy lifts his pleading metallic victim above his head.