Power Window

"But you can't get there from here!"

Harlan heard it before. They just didn't - couldn't - believe him. Not that he blamed them, of course. He had a hard time believing it himself.

"Look, Mister Harlan… unless you have some evidence, some sort of proof, I'm afraid we're simply not interested. If you have such evidence, please bring it before the board. Feel free to schedule an appointment through the department secretary. Good day to you, sir."

As he merged with the traffic on 395, Harlan remembered what Stockton had told him, that he'd need proof to sell the idea. Harlan thought perhaps a Defense Acquisition Board would have the foresight to see truth without proof. Live and learn.

...

"Well, Stockton, you were right. I saw the board and they laughed me out of the room"

"Told you so. What are you going to do now?"

"Just what they said. Get 'em some proof. What else is there to do?"

"That's dangerous. We may not have the spatial relationship right, retroreflectors notwithstanding. If your suit fails, you'll die in about a minute. Hard vacuum doesn't forgive. And besides, we've just looked through little ones. We've never even tried to open one that big, let alone try to grab something and bring it through."

"I thought about that. If the aperture leaks, we'll just shut it off."

"Sure, but that assumes we can shut it off!"

"Well, if we can't, the whole planet's doomed, so it'll make little difference whether we die now or little while later."

"That's why I like you, Harlan. You always have such a positive outlook on things."

"Oh, don't fret. Is November 17th okay with you? It'll take that long to charge."

"Let me check. Yeah, that works for me. I'm going to dinner, so see you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow, then. Bye."

Harlan clicked offline and got some dinner himself, wondering about money. The electricity was going to cost him a fortune.

He finished, went downstairs, and set the power supply to begin charging the storage array. It was only mid September; it would take until November to store enough energy without blowing the main breaker.

Indian summer came and went, the joules and dollars piling up.

...

"Harlan, are you sure about this?"

"No, Stockton, I figured I'd just spend a few thousand bucks on electricity for nothing. Here, help me into this suit."

"So, if containment breaks and we can't shut it off, you'll be fine and I'll die. Thanks a bunch, buddy."

"I'll only live six hours longer than you, so quit your whining."

Stockton patted the back of the suit's helmet. "You're good to go. No pressure drop?"

"None detectable."

"I still think finding the golf ball would be better."

"Be too hard to find, plus it wouldn't prove a thing since anyone who could confirm it is already dead."

"Oh just get in the containment room. Let me know when you've got a hard seal. And here, don't forget your stupid orange plastic."

"Ah, thanks, I forgot. And it's not stupid. Okay, I'm in position, seal is good."

"Okay, Harlan. Coordinates for the descent stage are set. You ready?"

"Yep. Crank this thing up already, would you?"

"Open Sesame!"

Stockton hit the final sequence, sending the commands to loose all that stored energy. One wall of the containment room wiggled for just a split second and then… changed. Harlan stepped through, gingerly.

...

The trip back to the Pentagon was uneventful, if long. Harlan couldn't wait to see the looks on their faces. The military was as short on foresight as it was long on funds. That's simply the way it was, he supposed.

"Mister Harlan, do you now have proof of your claims or are you here to waste our time again?"

Harlan reached into his bag, removed the item, and placed it on the conference table before the board members.

"Here."

Colonel Pennington wasn't impressed. "What's this? Looks like cold war era surplus to me."

"It is. That, honorable board members, is one of the batteries from the Apollo 17 descent stage. You know, the part that stayed up on the Moon. Feel free to contact NASA to check the serial number."

"Hold on there, Mister Harlan. This board does not appreciate…"

"The board may also wish to take a look at the landing site. There's a 20 foot wide by 100 foot long orange line on the lunar surface that wasn't there a month ago."

"But you can't get there from here, Mister Harlan!"

Harlan heard it before. They just didn't - couldn't - believe him. Not that he blamed them, of course. He had a hard time believing it himself.