D. MacHale - Raven Rise

He tried to swallow. He couldn’t. His mouth was too dry.

“So?” he croaked hoarsely at the lifeless statue. “What happened?”

The statue didn’t answer, of course. It wasn’t alive. It had never been alive, though it could not have looked more dead. As much as Patrick wanted to deny it, he was definitely in a new New York City, staring into the eye of the Statue of Liberty.

“You must realize this enterprise will makeyou and your partner quite wealthy,” the tall man with the large teeth said with a knowing smile.

“Andy Mitchell is nor my partner,” Mark Dimond shot back quickly. He wanted to leap out of the cushy leather chair and shake the guy to emphasize the point. He actually leaned forward, ready to pounce, but a strong hand held him back.

“Easy there, big fella,” Courtney Chetwynde said soothingly. For a change Courtney was the voice of reason, while Mark was the voice of butt kicking. “He gets it.”

“I am afraid I do not ‘get it’ at all,” the man corrected, lifting the corner of one lip. Mark wasn’t sure if it was a half smile, or a full sneer, or if he had just smelled something foul. The man held up a piece of paper that, unfortunately, Mark recognized. “This is your signature, is it not?”

Mark dropped back in his chair. Beaten.

“Yeah.”

“Then whatever unpleasantness has transpired between you and Mr. Mitchell is immaterial. You both signed this contract, therefore you are forever joined together as principals in the…” He looked at the paper through half-glasses. “What is it you call yourselves? Ah yes, the Dimond Alpha Digital Organization.” He looked up at Mark over the paper and continued, “I have no idea what that signifies, nor do I care. What I do know is that between having signed this letter of intent and receiving our advance payment, your company has given Keaton Electrical Marvels the sole right to develop the technology you have created and named ‘Forge.’”

Mark wanted to scream, but he knew it wouldn’t do anything more than make him look silly. He and Courtney were in the large London office of Mr. lain Paterson, president of KEM Limited. The company that was going to bring about the ruin of Halla. Of course, Mr. Paterson had no idea of that. As far as he knew, all he had done was license an impossible new technology from two teenage American kids that he hoped would revolutionize the electronics industry. He had no way of knowing that one of those kids was actually a demon who had manipulated Mark into igniting an explosion of technology that would change the future of Earth, Quillan, and Ibara. It was not the way things were meant to be. But Mr. Paterson couldn’t know that. Mark wished that somehow he could explain it to him. Maybe then he’d destroy Forge. More likely, Mark thought, he’d have him sent to an asylum for the impossibly strange.

“I must admit, I do not understand your position,” Paterson continued. Mark thought the guy was pretty arrogant. He wore a dark tweed suit with a vest that had a gold watch chain dangling from the right pocket. He held his head high and pointed his chin at whoever he was speaking to. “Why the sudden reluctance? Don’t you relish the opportunity to change the future of the world?”

Mark shot Courtney a glance. Paterson had no idea how true those words were.

“Or four worlds,” Mark muttered.

“Pardon me?”

“Look…lain…pal,” Courtney interjected. Paterson visibly stiffened. He wasn’t used to having a young girl treat him so informally. “If you develop Mark’s technology, he’ll sue you. Simple as that. Do you really want to go through all that? Hmm?”

Paterson snickered. It was Courtney’s turn to stiffen. Snickering irked Courtney, especially if it was at her expense.

“It is most unfortunate that Mr. Dimond feels that way, but rest assured we are confidant in our legal position. A letter of intent was signed. Monies have changed hands.”

“We’ll give you back the money!” Mark exclaimed.

Paterson snickered. Again. Courtney stiffened. Again.

“We don’t want your money,” he said flatly. “We want Forge.”

Mark took a desperate gamble and said, “Well, too bad. You have the plans, but I’m the one who made it. I destroyed the prototype, and I don’t think you can duplicate it. You don’t have the know-how.” Mark looked at Courtney with renewed hope. “It’s true,” he exclaimed to her. “They won’t figure out how to build it!”

Another snicker from Paterson.

“Stop that!” Courtney demanded.

“Please, come with me,” Paterson commanded as he got up from behind his immense mahogany desk. He strode quickly across the stuffy office, opened the heavy wooden door, and gestured for Mark and Courtney to follow.

Courtney whispered to Mark, “Why do I think we’re not going to like this?”

They both got up and followed Paterson along the wide hallway of the headquarters of KEM Limited. Along either side of the corridor were glass cases filled with odd-looking devices that were on display as if in a museum.

“These are some of the projects we’re developing here at KEM,” Paterson explained.

One case held a series of six colorful cups.

“Plastic,” Paterson explained. “Durable, lightweight, inexpensive. Someday the majority of simple, everyday items will be molded out of plastic. Incredible, no?”

Mark and Courtney exchanged looks. They continued on until they saw a case that contained a round glass screen that looked like an ancient TV set. On the screen was an animated character that looked to Mark like a black-and-white version of Bugs Bunny.

Paterson commented, “Someday moving images will be broadcast into homes the way radio is today.”

Courtney sniffed. “Not exactly plasma quality.”

“Plasma?” Paterson asked, intrigued.

Mark winced. He feared that Courtney had just given Paterson another idea that was way ahead of 1937. He changed the subject by asking, “What’s that?”

In the next case was a small machine that looked like a tiny, old-fashioned record player complete with a small black three-inch vinyl record.

Paterson explained, “We feel that miniaturization will be key in developing future technologies. This small phonograph can be easily packed into a suitcase and transported anywhere. In the future, entertainment will no longer be restricted to the home or theater.”

Courtney laughed. “Nice. Put that thing on a chain around your neck, and you could run with it.”

“Why on earth would anyone want to listen to music while running?” Paterson asked, again intrigued.

“What do you want to show us?” Mark interrupted, changing the subject again.

“You have theorized that we would be unable to read your schematics and duplicate your work. Observe.”

Paterson pointed to the next case in line. What Mark and Courtney saw inside made them deflate. Lined up on a purple velvet pillow were six small items that looked like identical blue eggs.

“Are those what I think they are?” Mark asked, though he was pretty sure he already knew.

“Try it for yourself,” Paterson answered.

Mark called out in a clear voice, “Square.”

Instantly all six “eggs” writhed and morphed into six perfect squares. There was no mistake. It was Forge. Six times over. The people at KEM had succeeded in re-creating Mark’s prototype, proving they had the know-how.

The early dados had been born.

“You see, young sir,” Paterson said, proud of himself, “we are quite capable of reading and duplicating your plans. My suggestion to you is sit back and enjoy the spoils of your incredible invention. You are the father of a technology that will revolutionize our lives. You should be proud.”