Pop Travel (33 page)

“This is magnificent,” Geri said, admiring some of the titles.

“Yeah. Nice spread,” Cooper added. With his hands behind his back, he looked like a child at his grandmother’s house, afraid to touch anything.

“Mr. Dhruba, Dr. Rastogi, your guests have arrived,” the droid said with another bow and left.

A short, dark, heavyset man with very little hair and a bulbous nose got up from his plush, gold-hued couch to greet them. He grasped Hasan’s hand with both of his.

“Excellent. How wonderful to meet the genius inventor of pop travel. I am honored.” He vigorously shook Hasan’s hand.

Geri noticed one of Mr. Dhruba’s arms was a shade lighter than the other.

“Likewise,” Hasan said, squinting in pain from Mr. Dhruba’s strong grip. When he’d had enough, he pulled away, shaking the feeling back into his hand.

Dr. Rastogi smiled as he watched them from a gilded chair with white cushions.

“Mitesh Dhruba, this is my nephew, Hasan Rakhi, and his friends, Ms. Geri Harper and Mr. Cooper.”

“Welcome to my home.” Mr. Dhruba gave them a slight bow with arms spread wide. As he sat back down, he indicated they should do the same. When they were all seated, he shot off some questions. “So, Vilas. Why do you need to use my transport platforms?”

Dr. Rastogi eyed Hasan before answering. Hasan just smiled and nodded for him to explain.

“Hasan and his friends have come up with an improvement for pop travel and would like to test it.”

Mr. Dhruba wrinkled his mouth, not buying it.

“Improvement? I think you are hiding something. This is all very suspicious. First, you show up unexpectedly, then you tell me Hasan is coming as well. I am deeply honored to have such a celebrity in my home, but he must have his own testing facilities within his company. Assuredly, you are welcome to use my platforms, but first you must please tell me the whole story.”

Mr. Dhruba sat back and crossed his arms over his generous girth.

“If I may?” Cooper asked looking from Hasan to his uncle. When they both nodded, Cooper addressed Mr. Dhruba. “Have you heard about the disappearances of some prominent figures over the past two years?”

“I believe I have.”

“Well, we have reason to believe they didn’t just disappear. Pop travel has become fatal for some people who use it to the extreme,” Cooper said.

“What? No! Am I going to die?” Mr. Dhruba grabbed his chest. His other hand gripped the arm of the couch.

Geri knew just how he felt. She still had many questions for her boss, Ed. Not wanting to jump all over him without more information, she put off checking in with him.

“No, no, Mitesh.” Dr. Rastogi put a hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him. “You don’t travel often enough. It affects only those who pop too many times a day on a regular basis.”

“Hasan and his uncle believe they have a way to fix it,” Geri added with a weak smile. Imagining how the public would react, she turned away and cringed. When everyone found out the shocking truth, there would be protests and rioting at the travelports. She hoped Hasan finding a solution would be enough to lessen the blow. No one wanted to go back to commercial flying.

“Yes. But we need to test it. That is why we are here,” Hasan said.

“That leads us to my second question. Why here?” Mr. Dhruba’s eyebrows came together in worry. “As I said, you may use my personal platforms, since you are already here. But why are you in India? Why not at your own facilities in America?”

“It’s a long story, Mitesh,” Dr. Rastogi said. “I was about to tell you when they arrived. I can explain while we set up.” Dr. Rastogi rose and opened his palms to encourage Mr. Dhruba.

“Oh, fine.” He pouted and stood up. “You may follow me, please.”

As they ascended another staircase, doubts crowded Geri’s thoughts and gnawed at her conscience. She hoped Ed gave her this assignment unaware of the full situation, as hard as that was to believe. Now that she had gained the group’s trust, she would have no trouble snatching the videos and Hasan at any time. Her conscience stopped her, making her reconsider what was the right thing to do.

Blake’s taxi passed Geri’s group when they pulled over in front of a large bungalow. He had his driver drop him off around the corner. Camped out in a crop of bushes across the street, he updated Nate and awaited further instructions.

Since Geri’s signal was too weak for him to receive back in Atlanta, Nate told Blake how to tune in to the feeds from her brooch and earrings. When he picked up her frequency, Blake could see and hear everything that happened inside. At regular intervals, his QV sent recorded bits of information back to Nate in Atlanta.

Blake observed without letting what they said have an effect on him. He had no opinion about pop travel and the problem they were clearly helping PTI cover-up. If Blake was running things, the Creator kid would have been chained up in his lab and forced to fix the stupid problem a long time ago. No pussyfooting around or worrying about the press. But since he wasn’t, he just watched and listened and reported. He followed his orders. The fate of others didn’t concern him.

Everyone paid for his or her choices, one way or another. This was just another job.

The large transport room could challenge the Ritz-Carlton’s lobby in swank and girth, complete with comfortable seating and a CC imager for the viewing enjoyment of recovering guests. Cooper shook his head. Transport platforms in a residence took laziness to another level. No doubt McDonald’s would soon have them as well. Extra wide ones.

As Hasan acclimated to the transmission station, the Doc wrapped up his explanation of the situation to Mr. Dhruba. Even though he was entrenched in his work, Hasan interrupted their discussion with comments every so often, like, “I always told them we needed to experiment more,” and, “Do you know they did some tests on prisoner volunteers?”

“I can’t believe it!” Geri shouted at that.

Cooper wasn’t surprised.

“I wonder how often that happens,” he said.

Geri looked wide-eyed at him.

“Surely not!”

“You’re so trusting.” He gave her a sympathetic smile.

“Well, Hasan, I hope you have come up with a remedy.” Mr. Dhruba clapped him on the back with his stronger, bionic hand.

Hasan stumbled forward a step and looked at Mr. Dhruba with an eyebrow cocked.

“Sorry, my boy. Sometimes I forget my strength.” He held up his forearm and smiled proudly at the robotic limb.

Cooper had picked up on it right away, given the association with the Doc.

Hasan straightened and addressed the group.

“I’m ready.”

Cooper spoke to his QV and set it to record. On cue, Hasan took a deep breath and dropped into character. A serious, forlorn undertaker, comforting the family of a recently deceased loved one.

“Misuse of pop travel and its drastic results have just come to my attention. Though it will take months of testing to make any definite conclusions, we are conducting a good faith experiment. As soon as I became aware of the problem, I began making an effort to resolve it and expose it. I feel so guilty being a part of this, though I had no idea what was happening.”

When he finished his speech, he frowned and his shoulders slumped.

Poor kid. He really has the weight of the world on his shoulders.
Cooper paused the recording.

“We’ll work on a plan to tell everyone as soon as we test your theory.”

“Good. I want them to know it wasn’t my fault! I have a heart!” Hasan stuck out his chest and pounded it with his fist.

“We know, Hasan. Let us get on with it,” his uncle said. “The time, remember?”

He produced five vials and two syringe guns from a rolled-up case and set them at the medical station.

“Right. Time.” He nodded at Cooper who resumed recording.

Hasan pointed as he spoke. “This is how we will proceed. The test subject must first pop from the departing dock to the receiving dock using the current method and medication. The subject will be rescanned upon reception to compare the two images. Then I will tweak the codes for more accuracy.”

He paused and tapped his chin. “We should wait at least an hour, then send the same subject through again, with the new drugs to compare the effects. And of course another post-transmission scan to compare.” He looked to his uncle and asked, “Would you say that’s a good amount of time, Uncle?”

“It depends on who does the test. For a novice traveler, an hour should suffice. But you know better than I.”

Cooper paused the recording and spoke up.

“If an hour is safe, let’s get to it. We need to get back. I’m pretty sure someone is helping your security guards, and they probably know about your uncle. It won’t take them long to find us.” Though Cooper went along with this because he needed Hasan as a spokesman to validate the problem, he wanted to get home and spread the word. They needed to stay ahead of PTI and the FBI or whoever else might be after them. Those guys had to be frantic to get Hasan back. He urged the methodical scientists along at every opportunity.

“I know, but we need time for recovery,” Hasan answered. “That is part of the problem. When I get going on testing, I will wait longer. The minimum for today is one hour. That is one of the current public requirements anyway, right? Not to travel again within an hour?”

“I don’t remember reading that rule on the ticket. Maybe it’s on the website or part of the pre-pop medscan or approval form.” Cooper scratched his head. “No one reads those things. The public trusts what they are doing is safe. Another disadvantage of selfish executives making decisions based on their wallets rather than travelers’ safety.”

“It is safe! For the most part. Safer than a nose job! Whatever.” Hasan pouted and turned back to the tech station. “I’m ready to go. We just need a subject. Who’s going to volunteer to be the guinea pig? I’d do it myself but I need to run the test. And Uncle has to assist.”

They all looked at each other.

“I’ll do it.” Cooper shrugged. Even though some of his pop anxiety had returned as soon as they entered the room, he felt he was the most qualified, being the one with the least to lose and the fewest number of pops. Controlling his fear came easier this time around, now that he knew what to expect.
This would make three, no four! Four pops in one day, including the follow-up pop. Not to
mention getting back would be number five. No wonder people overdid it!

“Perfect! Go ahead and hop in the chair and meet your destiny,” Hasan clapped his hands and rubbed them together with that exuberant, mad scientist glint in his eye again.

“Nice choice of words,” Cooper mumbled and stepped up to the platform. He handed Geri his QV to finish the recording. Giving him a weak smile, she nodded, accepting the duty. As he tried to situate himself in the chair, he thought he should feel like an old pro. But after popping twice too often for his comfort level, his stomach still had the jitters, especially knowing all he knew. Sucking it up, he forced his breathing under control, hoping his nerve-wracked body would listen to reason.

“You’re sure all these pops in one day is safe?” Cooper asked.

“How often do you pop?”

“Going to your party was my first time.”

Their heads jerked around to stare in disbelief at the virgin popper. After shrugging it off, they went back to what they’d been doing.

Hasan smirked.

“You will be fine. Originally, we determined the max to be eight in one day and not more than 20 in one week.”

Cooper nodded slowly, apprehensive about getting so close to the limit.

“You’re so brave.” Geri squeezed his arm. That meant he was doing a good job hiding his fear. He smiled at her. He would still like to see Geri when they fixed everything, but right now, that seemed like a futile wish.

“No sweat. I’m the logical choice. I’ve done it the least and I don’t have any family. No loss if I turn to dust,” he said, more to convince himself than the others.

“Stop that! Your life is valuable!” Geri kissed his cheek.

He felt the concern in her eyes and it warmed his heart. A smoldering kiss goodbye would be a better sendoff, but he would settle for seeing her face when he came back.