Magic, Machines and the Awakening of Danny Searle by John McWilliams

Author:John McWilliams [McWilliams, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2014-05-07T21:00:00+00:00

12

Two months later, in early May, my father, Mohamed and I flew out to Minnesota to meet with Nano Memory Corporation’s technical staff. I wasn’t certain why my father kept dragging me along to his meetings, but I was way past wasting my time complaining.

David had met us at the Minneapolis-Saint Paul International Airport and from there we had driven two hours south through corn country to Nano Memory’s glass and chrome facility. Out in the middle of nowhere, their building looked like a colossal spaceship half sunk into a grassy knoll.

“Next time I’m on the island,” David said to me as we entered the brushed-steel lobby, “how about we do a little suit shopping?”

“At least he won’t be mistaken for a lawyer,” Mohamed quipped, his open-collar cornflower shirt and khaki pants not much more professional-looking than my black casual attire.

“Actually, a lawyer might have come in handy today,” my father joked.

We made our way across the marble floor to the reception desk and the gold placard that read: Welcome Dr. Cipriani and the Quantum Bay Laboratory Team.

Before my father could even introduce himself, the receptionist stood and smiled. “Welcome, Dr. Cipriani. I’ve informed Doctors Caldwell, Jeffers and Reinbeck that you and your associates have arrived. They’re on their way.” She then asked him for his autograph.

A minute after that, six ID-badge-wearing Nano Memory employees accosted my father with a barrage of questions. David, Mohamed and I moved aside.

“This has got to be a little strange for you,” I said to David.

“You mean your father being the star of the show? Not really. Actually, it’s kind of nice to be on the outside for once.”

When Doctors Caldwell, Jeffers and Reinbeck arrived, they shooed the Dr. Cipriani fan club away and led us to the elevators.

“Watch your step,” Dr. Jeffers said when we arrived an inch short of our third floor destination.

“This building has a modern façade,” Hans Reinbeck said in a thick German accent, “but in the early fifties, from what I’ve been told, it served as a research facility for the U.S. Department of Defense.”

“Researching what? Dare I ask?” my father said.

“Some say this is where they took those Roswell bodies.” Hans looked at my father, eyebrows raised.

“He’s kidding, of course.” Dr. Caldwell glared at Hans.

“Think what you want.” Hans shrugged. “But it’s only a matter of time before they return. And then it’s—”

“Einen schönen Tag allerseits!” my father interjected. He and Hans laughed. They spoke a moment in German and again howled with laughter. My father apologized, explaining that it wouldn’t translate well.

We entered a conference room that had an elliptical cherry-wood table and twenty-four leather chairs.

“Help yourselves, gentlemen,” Dr. Caldwell said, indicating the coffee and donuts set out on a side table. “Around ten others will be joining us from Dr. Jeffers’s group, and Dr. Landenberg will be here shortly.”

When Dr. Jeffers’s group arrived, my father and Mohamed were quickly drawn into a conversation about the Warwick Chip’s communication protocol. David and I drifted over to the conference table and sat down.

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