Chandler looked around the room, then lowered his voice conspiratorially. “I’m enjoying this detective thing. Much more interesting than accounting. Fuller’s a Cog. He’s got a little shop in Greenwich Village.”
That wasn’t particularly fancy for a Cog. “What’s his magical brilliance in? Musical theater?”
“For a rich guy, you sure do look down your nose at the arts.”
“Hey, I’ve donated piles of money to… stuff.” Francis wasn’t in the mood for witty banter. He’d told his secretary to hold his calls and then he’d slipped out through the UBF mail room and had run for his life. He’d gone from millionaire to fugitive in less than five minutes. Which was about as fast as he’d gone from nobody to millionaire in the first place. He sighed. “So what’s his deal, Ray?”
“Fuller’s a big idea man, but his thing is domes.”
“Domes?” UBF employed several Cogs who specialized in useful things like engines, electronics, or aerodynamics. “No wonder I’ve never heard of him. Who’d pay good money for a dome? Eskimos?”
Chandler finished his drink and then signaled the bartender for a refill. “The Office of the Coordinator of Information.”
“Fuller owns Dymaxion?”
“One and the same. Fuller’s come up with some sort of geometric design that chases away magic. Ten minutes after he announced it, OCI swooped in and told him to shut his trap. They have been buying everything he’s turned out since.”
Finally, some good news. “We need to buy him out.”
“Already done, chief. Congratulations. You own a company that makes domes and a funny-shaped car.”
“Just what I needed. When can I talk to this guy?”
“I told him to meet us here at seven p.m.” Chandler looked at his watch. “So about three minutes.”
“Anybody ever tell you that you’re the best accountant ever?”
“My mom did once, but I think she was lying to make me feel good about myself.” A cold wind struck as the door opened. Chandler leaned around Francis to see. “I do believe that’s our Cog.”
He was a handsome fellow in his late thirties, wearing a brown wool suit and a dark vest. Chandler waved and he came over to greet them. Confident, he looked Francis over. “Good evening, Mr. Stuyvesant,” he said. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Francis shook his hand, a little perturbed that Chandler had let slip his name.
Chandler caught the look. “I didn’t tell him.”
“I recognize you from the papers.” Fuller took the barstool next to him. Francis noted that he was wearing multiple wristwatches. Sheesh, Cogs and their odd habits… Francis was thankful that Browning was relatively normal compared to most of them, and he was a wizard when it came to guns, so that was saying something.
Fuller continued. “The transference of such a massive sum of funds occurred so rapidly that I’m not entirely surprised to see that it was a company with as many resources and as well-informed as United Blimp and Freight, that would be so interested in my spheroidal research.”
“What?”
Chandler interpreted. “We paid a lot of money, very quickly.”
“Indeed,” Fuller replied, happy as a calm. “A truly accommodative sum.”
“How much money, Ray?”
“More than I’ll ever make.” Chandler grinned. “Let me get you two a table.”
Francis’ head hurt. He’d dealt with many Cogs in his relatively short life. They were all geniuses, even before their brains were boosted by magic. He’d heard about a few people that the Power had come upon later in life, and they’d gone from relatively normal communication to absolute incomprehensibility as a result. He was guessing Fuller was one of those. Cogs tended to be eccentric, but this man was either the smartest or the densest one of the bunch. “Wait… Wait, I need you to try to explain that again.”
Fuller was very proud of his Dymaxion nullifier. “Tensional integrity, or as I call it, tensegrity, is a structural relationship principle in which structural shape is guaranteed by the finitely closed, comprehensively continuous, tensional behaviors of the system and not by the discontinuous and exclusively local compressional member behaviors! The nullifier is based on tensegrity. The Power, itself existing omni simultaneously as a geometric construction, is driven from the area of spheroidal influence upon operation of the nullifier.”
“Jesus…” Francis rubbed his temples. “Okay, let’s try this. If somebody had a nullifier, and an Active wanted to be able to use their Power around it, how would they beat it?”
“Beat it?”
“Say I’m telekinetic, and that guy over there”-Francis pointed at a random drunk-“was about to shoot me with a gun. He’s got a nullifier though, so my Power doesn’t work. So, how can I pick up this glass”-Francis lifted his scotch-“and hit him in the face with it?”
“Hmmm… You could throw it.”
Francis sighed. “I’d prefer to throw it with my brain.”
“Magic as weaponry? Mr. Stuyvesant, I’ll have you know my life’s work has been based in livingry, not killingry.”
“Are those even real words?”
Fuller seemed offended. “Absolutely. They are now.”
The Cog seemed like a decent enough sort, his brain was just running on a different track than Francis’. “Let me level with you, Mr. Fuller. You’ve already sold some of these to a group called the OCI, correct?”
“Why, yes. I’ve created and sold a total of seven of the devices.”
“Really?” Francis was surprised. “That’s it?”
“Each one takes months of effort. The interaccommodative housing is simple enough, but the geodesic device is rather complex in its manufacture. Currently, I am the only individual capable of crafting the nullifiers, though I have tried to train others; their crafting requires almost an individual artistic touch rather than a replicatable construction methodology.”
“It’s hard, so you’re the only one that can make them?”
“That is what I said.”
I’m getting better at this. “Okay. The OCI has been using your inventions to do some very bad things. Like depowering Actives so they can assault them.”
“Why would they do such a terrible thing?”
“I don’t know. Every time we’ve met they’re too busy trying to kill us to ask.”
Fuller was confused. “Us?”
“Us… Actives.” Francis concentrated on his glass. It rose off the table, hung there for a moment, and then floated gently back down. “I don’t know about you, but I’d like to be able to use my God given magical Power to make this glass go up and down without asking the government’s permission first.”
Fuller corrected him. “ Up and down are archaic terms, when in reality you mean in and out based upon the object’s relation to the gravitational center of the Earth…”
“I bet you and my buddy Jake would get along swell.”
“But I can see what you mean. I did not know my inventions were being used to cause harm. I do not approve.”
“Well, first and foremost, now that you work for me, you’re not making any more of them for the OCI. Will the other ones break or wear out?”
“They are very resilient and as long as the interaccommodative housing is unharmed and the spheroidal nullifier is in motion, then it will retain magical cohesion, even with minor maintenance. The first one I created was large enough to be motorized for continual operation and had a greater range, while the later six were portable but had to be spun by hand, which gives them only a few minutes of usage at a time, and a limited range.”
“Gotcha. So smash it or stop it from moving. So getting back to my original question, how do I get around a nullifier?”
“As in the theoretical application of your glass of alcohol against that individual’s face?” Fuller pointed at the same man Francis had.
“What’cha looking at, asshole?” the drunken construction worker growled. “Got a problem?”
“Nothing, sir,” Francis answered happily. “Let me buy you a drink.” Chandler was sitting at the bar near the entrance and had caught the exchange. He signaled the bartender to send the big fellow another round. Good man. “Lower your voice. Are you trying to get us beat up?”
