Chapter 26: Tensile Strength
Timeline: 10:00, Wednesday
Location: The Barn (Machine Shop)
Since the drive in the McLaren on Tuesday night, Julian had altered his behavior. He ceased all banter. He stopped challenging my theories. Instead, he treated me with absolute professional detachment. He answered my questions with precise accuracy. He reviewed my simulations without a single critique. He held doors open for me, yet he never made eye contact.
I need a different workspace.
I gathered my tablet and moved to the machine shop. The air smelled of hot metal, grinding dust, and cutting fluid. It sounded loud and industrial.
I pulled on a pair of coveralls, safety glasses, and thick leather gloves. Marcus handed me two pieces of heavy steel tubing and pointed to the metal table.
"Hold these flush," Marcus said. "Keep your hands behind the clamp."
I pressed the metal pieces together. Marcus flipped his helmet down.
ZZZT-CRACK.
The arc flashed, bright enough to see through my own safety glasses. The heat radiated against my gloved hands.
"Okay," Marcus said, flipping his hood up. He inspected the joint. "It's solid. You can let go."
I released the steel and stepped back. I wiped sweat from my forehead with the back of my glove.
"You make a cheap assistant, Lon," Marcus grinned. "Union rates for this run fifty bucks an hour."
"I pay you in friendship," I said. "And by allowing you to be part of the infamous Fibonacci marching formation."
"That was entirely your idea," Marcus laughed, moving the steel frame to the bench. "I just hit the snare drum harder when the tuba players collided."
He picked up a grinder and smoothed out the rough edges of the metal. Sparks showered the concrete floor.
I watched him work. Marcus understood materials in a way I did not. I calculated the stress limits on a screen; he felt them in his hands. He constructed the framework that allowed the rest of us to operate.
He turned off the grinder. The sudden silence filled the room.
"So," Marcus said, looking at me. "Last night. Did I see you walking around with Julian?"
Ack. I hope he didn't see me in his McLaren. I'd get a major lecture.
"He just showed up because he worries about losing his intern," I said.
Marcus shook his head. He wiped a smudge of grease from his cheek. "I have worked with Julian for three years. I have rarely seen him leave the lab for anything other than sleep. I have certainly never seen him taking a walk with someone without a reason."
He leaned against the workbench. "I think you intimidate him."
I scoffed. "Julian uses flirtation as a tool. He wants me to solve the equation. It remains strictly professional. Only Alex feels personal."
"Alex is highly observant. He sees everything," Marcus said. "Alex acts carefully. He treats people like valuable assets."
"Yeah?" I asked. "What do you see?" I said as I posed like a muscle-man.
Marcus smiled. It was the same easy expression from our freshman year.
"I see Lonna," he said. "Caffeinated. Intelligent. Capable of solving quantum mechanics, yet unable to lift a transmission."
I flexed my arms. "Hey! I have been working out."
He reached out and tugged on the ponytail sticking out of my welding cap. "I see the girl who used to fall asleep watching Star Trek."
"It got too preachy," I defended.
I stepped closer to him. We had a history that moved fast in college. We ended it because of distance and workloads. Every time we reconnected, the familiarity returned.
"I miss your hugs," I admitted. "The bean bag chair provides insufficient support."
Marcus opened his arms.
I stepped into him. He smelled of sweat, deodorant, and steel. He wrapped his arms around me and lifted me slightly off the floor. I buried my face in his shoulder.
"You okay?" Marcus asked quietly.
"I feel tired," I said. "I came out here for the science. But it feels more like a psychology class sometimes."
"Focus on the project," Marcus said, squeezing me tight. "We just have to construct a rack for the batteries."
He held me for a moment longer, then set me down. "Better?"
"Better," I said.
"Good," Marcus said, grabbing a wrench. "We have twenty capacitors arriving on Friday. If this rack fails to hold, Alex will have a stroke."
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Timeline: 19:00, Wednesday
Location: Unit 1 (Alex's Residence)
I knocked on the door of Unit 1.
After three hours in the machine shop, I had scrubbed my skin raw to remove the metallic smell of the shop. I wore a fresh sweater and leggings, feeling like a different person than the assistant from the afternoon.
Alex opened the door.
"Lonna," he said. "You survived the fabrication process."
"Barely," I said. "Marcus is a taskmaster. But the rack is built. We just need the capacitors."
"Come in," Alex said. "I have tea. And blueprints."
I entered Unit 1. The layout matched my unit, but the environment was distinct. My apartment contained a chaotic mix of unpacked boxes and cat toys. Julian's unit was minimal and cold.
Alex's residence appeared curated. Art hung on the walls. The lighting was warm. It smelled of bergamot.
"Do you live here?" I asked. "It looks staged."
"I create a sanctuary," Alex said, walking to the kitchen island. "No matter how loud and harsh the world is outside, my living space remains comforting."
He poured two cups of tea.
"This is White Earl Gray. It's a decaf, Silver Needle white tea infused with first-press Calabrian bergamot," Alex said, handing me a cup. "It lowers cortisol levels."
"You pay attention," I said.
"Only with things that interest me," Alex said.
"If I fall asleep, it's on you."
He gave his charming yet mischievous smile and gestured to the dining table. It was covered in large, rolled sheets of paper.
"The Greyson Textile Factory," Alex said. "Built in 1952. Closed in 1998. Reacquired by GIG two years ago."
I set my tea down and walked over to the table. Alex unrolled the main elevation view.
"It looks massive," I noted.
"It acted as the largest employer in the county for three decades," Alex said. "My grandfather built it. My father let it decline. When the EPA flagged the soil for heavy metal contamination, the asset froze in escrow. No developer wanted the liability."
His voice carried a specific weight when he mentioned his father.
"So you bought a toxic waste site?" I asked.
Alex looked at the blueprints. "I assumed the liability," he corrected. "I agreed to fund the remediation personally. That released the deed."
He looked up at me. "It serves a dual purpose. We clean the soil, yes. But environmental remediation requires security fences, industrial equipment, and privacy. It provides the perfect cover for our work."
"People see a GIG truck and assume you are hauling dirt," I realized.
"Exactly," Alex said.
He pointed to a section labeled: SUB-BASEMENT B.
"We plan to test here," Alex said. "It is a reinforced concrete bunker designed for chemical storage. The walls are three feet thick. It should be a cellular dead zone."
I studied the layout. "It seems excessive for a signal test."
Alex hesitated. He traced the line of the wall on the paper.
"The power output we are attempting… it requires isolation," Alex said. "If the emitter behaves unpredictably, I prefer it happens three stories underground in a concrete box, rather than next to the admin building at Agonwood."
He placed a circuit diagram over the blueprints. It was the schematic for the capacitor bank. "Which brings us to the safety interlocks," Alex said.
"You redesigned the dump switch."
"Marcus builds for endurance," Alex said. "I build for termination."
He traced the circuit. "I added a manual isolation loop. If the Active Emitter overloads, you hit this switch. It disconnects the battery bank and grounds the capacitors."
"That should protect the equipment," I said.
"It protects you," Alex corrected. He looked at me. "The capacitors are replaceable. You are not. I worry about you entering a concrete box with a high-voltage discharge unit."
"I don't have to be the one to test it," I said.
"Would you trust anyone else to do it?" Alex asked.
I didn't even consider it.
"No?" I said with a lilt to make it into more of a question.
"Exactly," Alex said.
"You act as my safety net," I said.
"Someone has to be," Alex said. He touched my hand where it rested on the table. His fingers were smooth, lacking the calluses that marked Marcus's hands.
"We'll find it if there is anything there," I said. "If the signal holds, we will map it."
"I know," Alex said. "And I will ensure you leave safely when you are done."
We spent the next hour discussing the history of San Francisco architecture and eating charcuterie. It felt calm. When I stood up to leave, I felt balanced.
"Thank you," I said at the door. "For the tea. And the net."
"Anytime," Alex said.
He offered no kiss on the cheek. I paused, feeling a slight disappointment, but I went to my unit without comment.
I picked up Nephy and sat on my bed.
"I am in trouble, Nephy," I whispered. "They are all distinct. Is it wrong to like all of them?"
I shook my head. Who am I kidding? When the project ends we'll all just be memories to one another.
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Timeline: 14:00, Friday
Location: The Barn (Loading Bay)
The capacitors arrived at noon. We had twelve high-voltage units and heavy duty cabling. For the last 48 hours, Julian continued his professional detachment. He was efficient and coldly polite. Now, we stood around the gutted cargo area of the white replacement SUV.
"Lonna," Julian called out. His voice echoed from inside the vehicle. "I need the crimping tool and the terminal lugs."
I grabbed the tool and walked to the open trunk.
Julian was on his back in the cargo area, routing the orange cables through the firewall. He slid out to look at me. He had a smudge of grease on his jawline.
He probably put that on his face for show.
"Tool," he requested.
I placed the tool in his hand.
"Do you need me to hold the cable?" I asked.
"No," he said. "I need you to verify the connection on the positive lead. Lean in."
I hesitated.
"Dr. Patricks," he said. "I am holding a live lead. Verify the connection."
I climbed into the back of the SUV. I crawled over the folded seats into the tight space beside him. The roofliner forced me to hunch over. I was on my hands and knees above him.
I reached for the orange cable. My hand brushed his forearm. His skin felt cool.
"The connection looks fine to me," I said. "No fraying, cuts or exposure."
"Are you sure?" Julian whispered.
He looked directly at me.
"It looks tight," I said, looking at the cable.
"It needs to be," he murmured. "We cannot have any uncontained reactions. We know you struggle with impulse control."
My breath hitched.
He was using the memory of the car ride to shame me. He knew exactly what he was doing.
"The connection is fine, Julian," I said sharply.
He smirked. The expression vanished when Alex walked around the side of the car.
"How is the routing?" Alex asked.
Julian shifted instantly. The air around him changed from predatory to professional. "Lonna just checked the integrity. We are ready for the bank."
I moved backward out of the car. My heart beat fast against my ribs. So I awkwardly stood on the concrete floor and smoothed my shirt just to not appear fidgety.
"Okay," Marcus called out. "Let's load the bank."
It took all three of them to lift the capacitor assembly. They slid it onto the rails Marcus had welded.
"System is live," Dave announced from his laptop. "Charging curve is nominal."
I looked at Marcus and suppressed a giggle. He nudged me and whispered, "Just because he sounds like he's on the deck of a starship doesn't mean you can fall asleep."
Dave looked up from his laptop toward us, so Marcus reported, "It works."
Then Marcus and Alex walked over to Dave for a full view of their creation.
"It looks ugly," Alex noted. "But functional."
"We'll see tomorrow," Julian said. "We leave at eight."
"Alex turned to Dave. "Dave, ensure the fleet telemetry is offline so we have dedicated bandwidth for our portable data relay."
"On it," Dave said.
Julian wiped his hands on a rag and looked at me. "Get some rest, Dr. Patricks," Julian said. "Tomorrow requires your full attention."
"At least you didn't ask me to do your laundry," I muttered.
"Why? Were you hoping to wear my shirt to sleep in? I could drop it off later," Julian teased low enough so only I could hear.
"Are you enjoying yourself?" I said indignantly.
"I enjoy l knowing I can make you react," Julian clarified.
Then Dave stood up abruptly and yelled, "Lonna!"
Dave sounded distressed and it made me worry. "Is something wrong?"
"Yes," he huffed. "You think Star Trek is so boring it makes you fall asleep?!"
I glared at Marcus. "Marc! You told him?" But Marcus just grinned sheepishly.
I sighed. "It's preachy," I protested.
Everyone laughed but Dave and I.