He spent large amounts of time at the dump. The other quadrants used Copper and the ocean as their dumping ground, throwing out many items that just didn’t exist in Copper. Although nothing worked, Oro thought the items in this garbage were wondrous, magical devices. From toasters, to oscillating fans, to remote control cars. These were items you couldn’t buy in Copper. He believed the people in Platinum were all great inventors. They all had such strange and wonderful devices there. He thought all of them had been invented by common everyday citizens of Platinum. He wanted nothing more than to become an inventor and live in Platinum with other genius minds.
“You’re a simple farmer,” his father would say. “Nothing more.”
“You will see,” said young Oro. “One day you will see my genius.”
He spent much of his time trying to prove his genius by inventing new items out of the scraps found in the garbage dump. If he could only invent something worthwhile the citizens of Platinum were sure to allow him to live among them. But most of what he built were useless collections of machine parts that had no use.
His earliest projects didn’t do anything at all. They were just crude sculptures that he believed were important inventions. After being laughed at by his older brothers, he focused on inventions that actually did something. He was never more proud of himself than the time he created his first working invention, in his late teenage years. It was a collection of gears and machine parts. When started, the wheels on it would spin. That was all it did.
“That’s all it does?” his father asked.
“Yes, but it is self-propelled. Once it starts, it keeps going. It doesn’t require fuel or cranking.”
“But that’s all it does? It’s useless.”
Oro raised his fists into the air. “It’s genius!”
“If you’re such a genius then invent me something useful,” said his father. “Something I can use on the farm. Then I might actually approve of this hobby of yours.”
“That would be easy,” he said. “For a genius.”
So Oro got to work. He spent day and night trying to figure out what kind of device could be used on the farm. This pleased his father, because Oro was finally taking an interest in farming. Within a year, young Oro understood the technology behind farming more than any of his brothers. He even started pulling his weight around there. His father was proud of himself for finally figuring out how to motivate the young slacker.
But then something happened that surprised his father. Oro had invented something that did actually help his farm. The device was a combine threshing machine which used an upgraded self-propulsion system similar to that of his first working invention.
“It works faster than the old one,” Oro said. “But this one doesn’t require fuel.”
His father and brothers just stared in shock, after seeing the demonstration. It seemed too good to be true.
“The money you save should be quite significant,” Oro said.
“This is amazing,” his father was nearly speechless. “It’s brilliant. It really is brilliant.”
“Of course it is,” Oro said, smoking a freshly grown cigar. “What else would you expect from a genius?”
He had been wanting to say that for a long time, and it was as satisfying as he imagined. The look of smugness grew on his face with every compliment he received from that day forward. That is, until his father started receiving complaints for the substandard tobacco he had been shipping into the upper quadrants. Using the new device, the machine didn’t separate the tobacco plants as efficiently, causing bits of the stalk to mix in with the leaves. This created a harsh, bitter smoke that didn’t burn properly. That year’s crop had been ruined and most of his clients wanted their money back.
“I’m ruined!” the father yelled at Oro. “I can’t believe I actually used something
“The design can be improved,” Oro said. “I’m a genius. I’ll work out the flaws with little difficulty.”
“Do you actually believe I’ll trust you a second time?” His father grabbed him by the throat, tears of anger in his wrinkled gray eyes. “I’ve had enough of you. I don’t ever want to see your face around here again.”
Oro broke out of his father’s grip.
“Very well,” he said. “I’ll leave. I am a genius. I have more important things to build than equipment for your pathetic farm.”
“Get out of my sight,” his father said.
“I will. You don’t deserve one ounce of my greatness.”
“Get out!” His father said, hitting his fist onto the useless threshing machine so hard that it sliced open his knuckles.
While his dad was bandaging his hand, Oro gathered his things, swiped several boxes of his dad’s favorite cigars, and left home. From that day on, he lived in a shack near the garbage dump, trying to invent something of value. He invented other self-propelled devices. From sewing machines to power drills to motorized roller skates to transportable elevators.
Once a year, an executive from Platinum would come to see his inventions. This man was always looking for new devices that would improve the lives of the citizens of the upper quadrants. He was even willing to check out the devices of some pathetic wretch living in a junkyard with atrocious hygiene and delusions of grandeur. Every visit, the executive would look over each of the items and then shake his head.
“No,” he’d say. “None of these interest me.”
“But they are genius!” Oro would say. “Each and every one is brilliant. Nobody else could have invented them but me.”
“But I can’t use any of them,” the executive would say. “None of them would be of any use to the people in Platinum. You’re going to have to try harder than that.”
So Oro tried harder. He built vehicles that did not require gasoline. He created a dehydrator that could preserve meats for years. He invented a one-man airplane that did not require fuel. If he could get just one of these inventions accepted by the executive he would be able to move to the Platinum Quadrant. But none of them were ever good enough.
“I am a genius!” Oro would cry, as the executive returned to the gates of Silver. “Why can’t you recognize that!”
“Genius isn’t enough,” the executive said as he passed through the gates. “I need something that’s going to sell.”
Oro fell to his knees, exhausted. He had constructed great devices, many which would better the lives of everyone on the island. They were recycled from the waste of the upper quadrants and could easily be mass produced with very little expense. But his ideas were all shot down. Nobody recognized his genius. But he would keep trying. He would fight to his last breath to prove his genius to the rest of the world.
Out of the corner of his eyes, Oro sees the other two contestants on the sky bridge behind him. He doesn’t let on that he knows they are there, pretending to be too busy working on his latest creation: the glider-cycle. It wasn’t easy getting all the parts together, but it’s almost completed. He will be the first one to arrive in the evacuation zone because of this machine. His genius is too great for him to fail.
He steps over to his tool chest and takes it around the back of the glider-cycle, keeping his eyes locked on his work. He stretches and yawns, then slowly places his toolbox on the ground. By the time Junko and Scavy figure out what he’s doing it’s already too late. Oro jumps for his weapon—a rocket launcher—and aims it at the bridge.
“Nobody’s winning this contest but me,” he says, as he fires a rocket directly at them.
Oro had a plan from the moment he awoke in the hotel at the beginning of the previous day. He knew he was going to build a vehicle that would ensure his safe arrival to the evacuation zone before anyone else. He refused to team up with any of the other contestants. They were inferior to him. He had no use for lesser minds.
“I deserve to win this more than anyone else,” he said to his reflection in a hotel room mirror. “I am a genius. I cannot fail.”
But there was one major setback. The weapon he had been given was a rocket launcher. With only seven rockets in his pack, it was not the most useful means of defense. The launcher itself weighed nearly 40 pounds, which wouldn’t be that much if each rocket didn’t weigh 17 pounds each. Since Oro himself was such a petite man, his pack ended up weighing twenty pounds more than he did. He could hardly even drag the pack, let alone lift
