To buy Cruise to Nowhere Tales as a book, please visit my bookstore.

Cruise to Nowhere Tales Next Tale Previous Tale Terms of Use About Me Links Poems for Free Stories for Free

THE LAB TECH'S PROLOGUE There was silence when the tale was done, Nor was there much desire in anyone To speak or offer up another tale. Hoping that this time he might prevail, The bartender said, "Now we should move on Before the vast majority are gone, And end this game. It's getting rather late --" But once again someone shouted, "Wait! I have a tale that I would like to tell, And I have been assured I tell it well. It's about a --" "Please! We've had enough!" The bartender implored. "All this new stuff --" "A vote! A vote!" immediately was heard From those who'd no idea what had occurred, But had from gambling recently come in, And, restless, wanted something to begin. "Just tell your tale!" the bartender, disgusted, Shouted out. A tall young man adjusted His pants and tucked his shirt, then stepped right up Before the crowd and raised an empty cup. "Water!" he shouted. "Water! I need some water!" The bartender then filled it. "Now a quarter!" He held his hand out, swung it left and right. "Come on, come on, we don't have all night!" Someone put a quarter in his hand. He plopped it in the cup. "Now I had planned To make a million dollars down below, Gambling. Yet as gamblers should best know, The odds are all against us. But suppose ..." And here he put a finger to his nose, "Suppose, as with the alchemists of old, I could turn this quarter into gold?" Silence, as he paused theatrically. "Of course I can't," he said. "But seriously, A modern version of the ancient scam Exists, as I will tell you if I can. "I worked for what would be an alchemist Searching for the secret catalyst That would turn water into energy With very little input. As you'll see, You simply put two wires in a cup And to some sort of battery hook them up. The wires are of copper and of zinc -- Oh, yes! It's quite as simple as you think! "Then watch the water bubble into tubes That you can separate and later use, Hydrogen and oxygen to burn, The more the merrier, as you will learn. Ten will run your house, ten thousand will Run a warehouse, factory, or mill." "Really?" someone said. The audience laughed. "Please!" the lab tech said. "He isn't daft. Getting energy from water is Done right now by electrolysis. The only problem is that you get out Less energy than you put in. No doubt, Alchemy could find its way back now By getting more than you put in. And how My boss did this is the subject of my tale, After which the trick will be on sale." THE LAB TECH'S TALE Once there was a scientist who dreamed Of saving the world. When he was young, it seemed Quite possible to find the perfect cure For poverty and hunger. He was sure The answer lay in finding energy That would be safe, clean, plentiful, and free, The engineering simple -- just a kit That anyone could use. He thought of it As a child in school where he had learned That water was made of fuel that could be burned And oxygen, that all such fuels require. My God! he thought. Then water is frozen fire! And from that moment he became obsessed With what he dreamed that H2O possessed: A genie in an ordinary glass Whose liberation he would bring to pass. He fantasized that like a monk he would Devote his every moment to The Good, Living sparely, even after he Had made his Nobel-Prize discovery, Using his vast fortune to supply Kits to all who could not such things buy, Until each rural factory and farm, School, house, office, hospital, and barn Hummed with power, absolutely free. This was what he dreamed his life would be. And so it was, at least the part before He made his great discovery. The more He slaved and sacrificed, the more he would Ignore himself to serve the greater good, Eating little, living in a room Resembling a tiny, airless tomb, One set of clothes to wear while one would dry, No family, lovers, friends, no gifts to buy, Just work, work, work, to find the alchemy That would turn water into energy. Of course this had been done, but with one lack: One put more power in than one got back. The current one would need to separate The H2 from the O was far too great. But this did not deter our scientist, Convinced the problem was the catalyst Required to produce a current strong Enough to move the process right along. And so for years, decades, he tried many Minerals and alloys, but not any Seemed to be of measurable use. One day while reading a typically abstruse Article on ionizing water And twiddling absent-mindedly a quarter Between his left forefinger and his thumb, Wondering whether he was simply dumb Or the author of the article an ass, He dropped the quarter into a small glass Of water recently electrolyzed. About to rescue it, he realized He might have left the current on, and checked The ammeter, whose filthy face was flecked With grime from years of dust, grease, oil, and sweat. Ten milliamps, it read. Too much to get The quarter from the glass. And so he turned To switch the current off before he burned His fingers diving down to save the quarter Drowning in the glass of salty water. But wait a minute! The battery wasn't on! Where was the current coming from? Upon His heart there lay an ingot of pure gold Preventing it from beating. He turned cold, Icy, trembling, too afraid to touch The ammeter or battery -- too much Shot through him in that instant to contain His ecstasy, as riveting as pain -- For where had that current come from but from water Electrified by his rambunctious quarter? My God! My God! My God! he kept repeating, Unaware his heart was hardly beating. What have I done? And how? What missteps were The ones that made this miracle occur? Quickly he scribbled notes upon the page That earlier elicited his rage: Proportions of the salts in distilled water, The nickel-to-copper ratio in the quarter, The distance between the copper lead-in wire And the zinc wire leading out. He was on fire! He scarcely was aware what he was writing. Would he--should he--dare another sighting? He leaned over towards the ammeter and saw Again ten milliamps. Thank God! He looked once more. Ten milliamps again! It was, then, true! His mind leaped towards what he had to do: Replicate it first, and then again. Then vary salts and volumes, noting when It stopped, the electrolysis complete. And then a thousand times repeat, repeat. And then, before pursuing publication, He'd submit a patent application. Millions, tens of billions this was worth! Not to speak of freeing the whole Earth And all its beings from their slavery To filthy, hot-house, high-cost energy. Just three years later, or no more than four, A shorter time than ever seen before, In consideration of his age And that his great discovery set the stage For universal wealth and equity, Peace, health, freedom, joy, and dignity, A Stockholm audience would turn its eyes On him, the winner of a Nobel Prize! He fantasized his speech, which would be short, But would touch lightly on the things it ought: Like all those years of selfless sacrifice, Of loneliness, a life not very nice, But, yes, sublime in aim and quiet passion, And rich in ways unknown to flesh and fashion. Of course the breakthrough was an accident (Describing in some detail the event), But one that happened at a place and time Where there was someone ready to refine It into science, replicable and sure, His method painstaking, his purpose pure ... By this time he had put himself to sleep, Exhausted by his unexpected leap Into greatness, wealth, and recognition. Morning found him in the same position, Having barely moved for many hours, Dreaming of bouquets of fancy flowers Sent to honor some success or death, He wasn't sure which one. He tried his breath, Relieved to find it working, so it seemed. Then some success. But what? He sensed he dreamed Of some discovery, a sudden breakthrough ... Wait! -- now he scrambled over to His ammeter to see what it might read, Remembering all, believing nothing, greed Gripping him for the first time like a pair Of pliers, pulling him near panic by his hair. It's mine! he thought. But there it was -- it wasn't -- Just what he might hope it does, it doesn't -- The meter was at zero, but he saw The same dark spot of grease he'd seen before Splotched across the ten. Oh, God! So that Was it? No Nobel Prize? No billions? Nor at The age of seventy-three a chance to win? As though his disappointment were a pin, And all those years a balloon that kept on filling, He burst right there, just burst, no longer willing To follow his obsession any longer. A wasted life! The sense of that grew stronger, Grew into anger, into determination To salvage something from this brute frustration. Thus idealists turn their cherished dreams, Corrupted, into calculated schemes. If he could not get energy from water Electrified by what was in a quarter, He yet could get some greedy fools to think That what they saw was real, and so to sink Some money into it, so as to be In on this new source of energy. Yes, that was it! Then all was not yet wasted! Once the sweet ambrosia has been tasted, It isn't easy to relinquish it. And so our scientist used all the wit, So long and fruitlessly on good expended, At last to serve himself. It all depended On some reliable source of energy, So well concealed no prying eyes could see, And then the pretense that things must be kept Absolutely secret. The whole plan leapt Into his mind at once -- the invitations Marked "Top Secret," the mini-free vacations In posh resorts, the secret, closed-door sessions At which the pitch was made, the first-day lessons In chemistry and physics, then finance Seasoned with the flavors of romance, And in the afternoon aggressive closers Going after prospects like bulldozers! He needed an immoral electrician, Part techno-geek, part bona fide magician, Who could rig up the apparatus so The mini-solar battery would not show. You know he'd hire the first poor slob he'd see, Who, as it turned out, happened to be me. What happened next is better left unsaid. The scientist--unnamed--alive or dead-- Managed to make millions from his scheme And so fulfilled a portion of his dream, The portion that he could. The other part Was far beyond ability or art, An alchemy much like the ones of old, Which tried to turn base metals into gold. But you can fool your friends with this small kit, Just as we did our investors. Wit Combined with shameless chutzpah will ensure Success in life as long as you're not pure And undermine yourself. The causes of One's woe are ever honesty and love. Just $15 each! A buy! A steal! And all your friends will swear that it is real! Come one, come all! I have only a few! Hurry, or there'll be none left for you!