“Only Multi-Billionaires need apply.”
That was the subject line in Harvard Bertrand’s email when he got to his office that morning. Harvard stared at the email thinking it was just another of the hundreds of spam emails he had to deal with at his office every morning. He sighed before he hit the delete button. That’s when it caught his eye. Elizabeth Champlain’s name was in the sender’s line.
“Shit.” Harvard swore as he tried to find his deleted folder.
Once there he flipped the emails value to unread and sent it back to his inbox. Finally, now that he had things back under control he sat back, he opened the email, took his coffee cup in his hand and read what his friend had to say.
Elizabeth was a friend from Harvard Business School. And yes he had been named after the storied school as both his parents had attended it where they had consequently met and married. As with Elizabeth, he had started his own business after graduating, which had succeeded to a degree that had made him rich.
In groups of entrepreneurs, the Bertrand family was well known for rampant success. Elizabeth was not family per say but she was considered family because of the close relationship she maintained with Harvard.
Harvard opened his eyes wide after reading the email. He was interested in what it said and wanted to discuss it further. He picked up the phone and dialed Elizabeth’s personal cell. He turned to face the morning sky out of his office window and waited for Elizabeth to pick up.
His computer screen showed her message.
“I found this in my inbox yesterday. Initially I was going to flush it, but something made me check it out. It is not in my business field but I know it’s in yours and it is real. This organization is operating at a very low exposure rate as it is not legal in the US but the payout is huge. To get more information decrypt the message within.
Car, fast, new tech, big $, only open to the most dedicated. If you heard of it before, you’ll know what comes next. >;;;;;>;;;;;>;;;;;!$>;;;;;>;;;;;>;;;;;! Win. Look to the future and talk to the commander for more information.”
~~~
In a small office on the other side of the country, a phone rang. The three hour difference between Boston and California meant that the 7:30 Boston phone call rang at 4:30 in the morning in California. The security system picked up the call and a message was left.
At 7:10 Darrin Prettiflin came into his office at The Future Automotive Skin Design Company to open up the facility for the day.
It was a small company in San Francisco that specialized in next generation automotive body panels that responded to the elements and converted light into electricity. It was supposed to be the next big thing in automotive tech… if it caught on. Their product never needed to be washed and created power as long as it sat in the sun.
Last year they had invented a specialized auto skin at the request of an underground company. They had been paid six figures for the designs and had been told to wait for a call before they could start producing thirty of them. That morning, the message on the advanced security system was five words. “The trigger has been pulled.”
~~~
The nine o’clock classes at MIT were about to begin. Professor Jenkins was running late. His class would be waiting for Doctor Jenkins of the Mechanical Engineering Department, and his latest lecture on “Hydro mechanics and their effect on the new metals.”
Doctor Jenkins was still assembling his lecture materials when his watch alarm went off.
“Shoot.” He exclaimed.
He knew if he heard this alarm then he was really late. He ran his hand through his thinning brown hair before scrambling to pick up the last of his materials and hurrying off.
He had given up running as a pastime because of a foot injury but he could still move pretty quickly when it was required. He had a thin body profile even after all these years, though not as thin as he’d once been. His students kept him running in a different way and he had turned to swimming as an alternative exercise routine. His tenured colleagues all suffered the effects of age with bulging bellies and the beginnings of medical problems. Compared to them, he felt rather healthy. “Feeling good about your body could go a long way toward stimulating one’s mind,” he thought.
The good doctor of Mechanical engineering still had a twinkle in his eye at the prospect of teaching, although, at the moment that twinkle had been replaced with the panic of being late. Most of his peers had lost the desire to teach years ago and now did it only as a way to make a living. Instead, he loved being absorbed by the energy that his students reflected back to him. Not only did his eyes still twinkle at the prospect of teaching another day, he held his head high in anticipation at the infusion he would get from it. In a way he saw it as the elixir of life.
Just as he was leaving his office his iPhone rang. The ringtone was an odd one. Technically it was called ‘Sci-Fi’ and it truly sounded like the sound effect used in many old science fiction movies of the 1950’s and 60’s. His stomach fell. It was the last sound he wanted to hear. The ringtone was specifically assigned to tell him he was getting a text from an organization that had preyed on his hopes and dreams. He had fallen victim and now they were calling him in on his commitment.
Several years ago Doctor Jenkins had been invited to attend a lecture sponsored by men from several big name companies. The lecture had not been what he had expected. It had been held by several men from profitable companies, but their companies had been absent. It had been held in a small hotel conference room under the name of ‘Big $’.
Intrigued, Doctor Jenkins had gone, along with other big names known in the mechanical industry. He recognized many who had attended. Some were friends, others acquaintances from their shared industry of mechanical innovators and professors.
A man from the company ‘Driven Motor Innovators’ took the stage and introduced himself.
“Welcome. My name is Grant Phyindress. I am the owner of the company Driven Motor Innovators. Today I stand here, apart from my company, as an investor to further mechanical innovation waiting to see the next great race towards creating the next automobile and what the mechanics will look like.
“We have seen in the past that the pressure to succeed will jolt technology forward. War, especially, always produces new and amazing technology. This has been true for every war on this planet. There are some who are bold enough to suggest that there is a secret society out there that works behind government curtains to create war just to advance our technology. I’m sure it’s just a legend but that concept has led to the creation of other equally pressured environments in order to achieve specific goals. One such field is in automobile racing. Another is the famed X Prize system. For our little secret society, it will be a combination of several of these ideas.
“To better focus your interest as to why you are here, we are going to discuss a tremendous opportunity for all of you, one that will probably make some turn away, but for others it will pique their interest.
“First off, all of you have been handpicked to be here today. All of you share a similar background in mechanical engineering and have demonstrated great talent in designing the greatest machines of our day. I wanted to bring up a slide show of who all of you are and what great machines you have invented, for those who are unfamiliar with the background of everyone else present, but the day is short and there is much to discuss. If you are interested in learning more about the person sitting next to you, there is a book at the back of the room that lists everyone’s backgrounds and accomplishments. After the meeting I will run the slideshow for those who wish to stay on.
“Your accomplishments are the reason we are all here today. Myself and a few other investors have put together a car race. Our goal is to advance automobile technology. We believe that we have been on the precipice of creating new and better cars for years, but for some reason we are stuck in the same technology that we have been using since the internal combustion engine was first invented. The goal of our race is to finally push the auto companies to see the greener grass and finally make the new technologies available to the public.
“Auto companies operate under the absurd notion that they have countless years to keep new technologies bottled up until they are ready to release them, or maybe they believe we are not ready for them. Either way our goal is to find these emerging technological ideas and force them into play.
“At this point our organization has made headway on many fronts. We are now at the stage where we need to recruit master engineers. We are looking for thirty teams to build racecars from scratch to fit exacting specifications.”
A hand went into the air from a woman with long brown hair and old fashion glasses. She spoke out without being asked to. “Why not recruit NASCAR engineers? They have all the experience and shops already set up.”
“Ah, we knew this question would arise.” Phyindress said. He looked to the floor for a moment to insert a dramatic pause then brought it back up with a smile painted on his face. “The point here is to build new designs. The NASCAR people have been drilled into thinking that there is no other way to build a car. NASCAR rules require internal combustion engines, therefore they will never see beyond that ideal. We need fresh ideas, new blood.
“Please understand, we have the greatest respect for all those who have invested time in making the internal combustion engine work so efficiently. Their designs have pushed gas mileage and pollution controls to such a degree that we can see almost one hundred miles to the gallon. Imagine, if a hundred years ago, you told an engine manufacturer that his same engine could one day achieve the hallmarks I just mentioned. I’m very sure he wouldn’t have believed you. Now we are at that point where we need to abandon the tried and true power plant designs for something new and better. “
Grant crossed to the other side of the small stage. He brought his hands up. “Let’s focus again on our goals. We are looking for thirty teams to hit the road and race. That’s why all of you have been asked to be here. Let me outline some of the specifics we’ve achieved thus far to help you understand what we’re looking for.
“For starters we have the race segregated into groups with an assigned driver. That means an investor has been assigned to a specific team. Therefore the money is already in place to do discovery and prototype testing. The bodies of all of the cars are being built as we speak. All of your final designs will have to fit under the same body style. So what we need are teams of engineers to design and build the cars being raced. The investor for each team will provide direction for his or her dream and fund each project.
“Be aware that this is a commitment. When each team is contacted, they will be responsible for finding the remaining members of their engineering teams and support staff. Money is available to fund all the work. Consequently, finding the shops and vendors to build the final car is also your responsibility. Who among you would like to fire off the first question about our little endeavor?”
Doctor Jenkins remembered that many people had questioned the legality of the race, whereupon they immediately stood and left the room. It was true that to race over the open road in the United States was an illegal activity. Grant had tried to assuage everyone’s fears by stating that those issues fell to the investors and to the appointed drivers. But for some it made no difference, they did not want to be connected to any illegal activity.
“It has been decided that the engineering staff of the teams are to remain anonymous since the whole point of the race is to create new technologies.” Grant had said. “The investors have the money to fight any possible legal battles for the drivers.”
To Doctor Jenkins, the chance to build a car that illustrated some of his automobile engine designs made his heart soar. He knew that it may be his only chance to finally build his invention. And if so, then he should consider becoming part of a team. He wasn’t getting any younger. If the engineers were to remain anonymous, then he could decide later whether or not to remain unidentified.
In the past his designs had been shot down by all of the major auto companies. He knew it all had to do with the oil industry. They pulled all the strings and didn’t want see a car that didn’t use gas or oil to find its way onto the roads in the U.S.
So he stuck it out for the entire meeting and signed himself up as a senior individual engineer. In the back of his mind he wondered if the odd little endeavor would ever get off the ground. At the end of the meeting when all the thirty teams had been chosen, a group cell phone huddle had been arranged. They each had to program a cell phone number into their phones with a specific ring tone. When the time came, they would get a text from that number.
His second thoughts had begun intruding the next day. What had he been thinking? If there were legal issues, even if his car won, how could he admit to designing the car? Then there was the time commitment. Would he have to leave his teaching position to fulfil his obligation? Despite his longing to see his designs emulated in fully working detail he had no idea how this kind of group could actually succeed. And that had been long before he had found out that the race team had to include a mechanic to ride shot gun who would also have to be trained as a weapon specialist.
Right now his cell phone did ring in that old fashioned science fiction movie siren that heralded aliens attacking, monsters rising from the black lagoon, or some other B rated tragedy where some other species was on the precipice of taking over the world. And his reaction to the tone was true to its origins, it made his heart sink with dread, tinged with a slight thrill of fear.
Jenkins pulled from his pocket his phone and looked at it. A text with two words stared at him. “It’s time.”
~~~
Katrina Morgantree sat in a large auditorium at a local high school with hundreds of other students who attended MIT. There was a low rumble throughout the attendees about why they hadn’t assembled at their own school. Not to mention that is was very early on a Saturday morning for college students to congregate.
Today they were picking interns for a special team. It was an unusual internship. The most critical part was that they would actually get paid. Therefore, just about every mechanical engineering, electrical engineering, mathematics major, and materials engineering student on campus had applied for one of the precious fifty available slots. There hadn’t been any interviews, all that they had needed to do was sign up and let their school work determine who would get the positions.
Katrina was one of only five girls in the auditorium. She sat uneasily among the crush of boys. Many of them hadn’t taken the time to shower before they came. She, on the other hand, had gotten up early and dressed for the occasion, including investing an hour plus on her long curly brown hair. She had a tall thin body, though it was hard to tell at the moment. She was so slouched back in her seat that an imaginary beer belly had blossomed.
Even though Katrina was uncomfortable among the stinky boys she was excited to be there. Katrina, like the majority of the others in the room, was working towards a mechanical engineering degree. It had been a difficult decision to major in this field. She had originally thought that she would choose a more artistic field. She had inherited several traits from her father, artistic talent being one of them. But she had felt a calling to build and fix machines.
Before she had been accepted at MIT her goal had been to go to a school that taught automotive mechanics. Her father had suggested that she push herself further and try for mechanical engineering first. He thought that if it ended up being too hard anything else would seem easy. So she had ended up getting accepted to this prestigious school and she was doing well. It still surprised her although she did look back at her art occasionally and sometimes wondered what she would miss by being here. Then again, the reverse could also be true.
Doctor Jenkins walked into the auditorium and approached the old rickety podium. Today he wore jeans and a blue button-down shirt. The serious students sat up straighter with excitement despite the early hour. Katrina was one of those students. She had to squeeze her shoulders through the boys on either side of her who remained slouched.
Towards the front of the auditorium she noticed the curly golden hair of a boy she knew only as Frodes. He was the most focused person she had ever met. He was in several of her classes but they had never spoken. Today he sat taller than the rest on purpose. He desperately wanted a position on the team. As if sitting up straight would be enough to be chosen.
Professor Jenkins paused and took in his audience before he spoke. “Today I arranged this intern selection off-campus because of several institution rules. I won’t go into a detailed explanation because it’s not important. What is important though is that today we are going to choose fifty young men and women to participate in a unique project that will not only affect your future careers, but will significantly advance automotive technology.
“Congratulations in advance to the selected few, however, to those who do not make the cut, there is still some good news. The pool of candidates for all of the other internship programs will be slashed by fifty so the programs will offer a higher percentage over last year because fewer students will be applying. I encourage you to do the math.
“Now it’s time announce the team. Of the many categories being called out, there will obviously be a higher concentration of mechanical engineering students because we are going to actually build a car. The other fields will participate as part of the support team. Therefore only one mathematician will be chosen, and so on and so forth. The criteria by which you were chosen are: Grades, attendance, and participation in your respective classes. To those not chosen, it wasn’t because you were not smart enough but rather, how you presented yourself as a whole to this school and to yourself because we are also looking for professionalism.
“The interns will be required to participate in a forum after the job is done to show how they achieved the results of the finished product. So intelligence and professionalism are each important qualities in our team members. To those not who are not chosen, I believe each and every one of you are capable of filling this role. Look at the people around you. Do they present themselves in a professional manner?”
Most everyone looked around to view the students near them. Katrina looked like a model compared to those sitting around her. The boys on either side appeared unkempt, their hair wasn’t combed, much less clean, and their clothes smelled like they were several days old and had been stored on a floor somewhere. Many of the boys knew right then that they didn’t live up to the professional standards that Dr. Jenkins had described. They sat up straighter and straightened their hair as best as they could with their hands.
Dr. Jenkins began to announce names over his microphone. Despite Katrina’s feelings being bolstered by the time she had invested in her looks compared to many in the auditorium, she was still not confident about her chances of being chosen. She knew that mechanical engineering was mostly a man’s field. Looking pretty wouldn’t get her on the team. She prayed that her work in class was good enough to be recognized. Luckily, Dr. Jenkins was her advisor so he at least knew that she existed. And in truth, that was the only reason she had bothered to sign up. Otherwise she would still be in bed right now.
She had allowed herself to hope but now boy after boy was called to the stage. Some of them she knew, others she had never heard of. William something or another, Jake, blah, blah, blah. The only thing Katrina heard was number so and so, then another name, and another number closer to the cut off at fifty. Her mood soured in a direct proportion to the odds of her being chosen dropping the closer he got to fifty.
Finally a girl’s name was called. “Silvia Thruwell.” Her heart soared. Almost immediately another girl’s name was called out. “Kristin Dramicus.” She felt better knowing that at least two women had made the team. When there were only five names left the boy on her right stood and prepared to leave. He was sure that his name was not on the list.
As an afterthought he stopped when he was in front of an annoyed boy who was still trying to see if he might be next. The boy with tousled hair had turned back towards Katrina. In his mind he was in the process of asking her out when Dr. Jenkins called out “Katrina Morgantree.” Katrina jumped up excitedly. No words ever left his lips. Feeling defeated in more than one way he turned back towards the exit and began to push through.
Katrina started toward the group of chosen interns in a rush of excitement. She threw her arms in the air and screamed like she had been chosen to be on stage with the Beatles. She ran up to the boy who was trying to leave, and who was now blocking the way out of the row of seats. She threw her arms around the boy’s neck and kissed him. Quickly she turned with him on the spot, like they were dancing and then proceeded quickly towards the end of the row leaving the boy flush and wondering what had just happened.
When Katrina finally made to the end of the row, she ran towards the stage. Dr. Jenkins wasted no time and continued on to the next name on the list. Katrina took her place with the other interns on the stage, beaming. She took a moment to look down the row see if she knew any of the other students among her.
Sadly she only knew one student other than Frodes, who had been among the first to be chosen, and it was the know-it-all from her English class. She didn’t like him very much, although to be fair she really didn’t know him well. She just didn’t like his pompous attitude. Katrina caught the eyes of the two other girls who had been called up. They beamed at each other, proud of their good fortune. For now they were all smiling as though they just won a million dollars. Little did they know that a tremendous amount of work lay ahead of them, paid or not.