Chapter 1

“Carl, can you make sure you’re at the office with me tomorrow?”

“Sure, boss. What’s up?”

“We’re supposed to meet Cindy at the airport. She’s bringing in the second tech for that south Arkansas sub job.”

“They’re using Cindy for that? Why’n’t they give ‘im a truck and have ‘im drive down?”

“Beats me. And it’s not a ‘he’.”

“Huh?”

“Not a ‘he’. Doesn’t leave many options.”

“Depends, these days. I’m an old-fashioned country boy, Bill. Don’t put me in a corner...”

“Look, knucklehead, you KNOW this company’s not going to put you in a box. Let’s just play this by ear.”

I’m thinking that Bill’s got something up his sleeve. I’ve been knowing Bill for ten years, ever since I met him on a project when I was working on my first job once I got out of college.

College? Well, I DO have a degree – associate of science in industrial technology, first member of my South Louisiana family to graduate ANY college. Hell, boy, that high school diploma put me in the upper tier.

No, I’m not dissing my family at all. Mom and Dad are still over there, twenty year old house on a hundred and twenty-year old bit of Louisiana land, some of it cleared, some of it in pine forest – the higher levels, some of it in mixed hardwoods – the lower levels, then the swamp strip right up to the bayou. It’s theirs. It’ll be mine, I guess, one of these days. No big hurry, you know.

Dad had parlayed a penchant for mechanicking on farm equipment into a penchant for mechanicking on the various mechanical devices needed to wrest petroleum products up from underneath the ground of Louisiana, and they paid him pretty good, so we were comfortable, at least by local standards, which meant that there’s NOT a run-out pickup truck on cinder blocks in the front yard.

Not that Dad didn’t try. He’s kinda famous now for having running examples of old engines.

If Dad could tinker on mechanical things, then son could do the same thing with electrical stuff. That would be me.

I did college. Went to work right after graduation, hauling test equipment around for a grizzled old goat of a senior technician, hanging on every lesson he taught. And it was a LOT of lessons.

By steps I gained a reputation, responsibility, and finally got invited to come to work for 3Sigma.

I love it. First, 3Sigma’s got a good reputation and second, good clients. My boss, whoever it might be, says “Carl, go here, see this guy. We got this job...” and I take off, make that guy happy, everybody smiles, I get paid – well.

Travel. When I signed on with 3Sigma, I was the first technician in the 3Sigma West office and I go where the work is. About the second time I spent three weeks in a hotel, I determined there was a better way to do that.

They gave me a big pickup truck to work from. Has a trailer hitch. So, trailer. Got to talking with co-workers at the home office in Alabama and I find that I’m not the first to come up with that solution, but I don’t care. I have a job that’s more than a week, me and the trailer get there, set up in an RV park, and it’s all good.

I’ve done four of those in the last six months. Another’s coming. This one is going to be somewhat long. As I’m talking, our construction bunch is turning a few acres of nondescript woodland into an electrical substation.

I know. I have the drawings. So that’s what I was PLANNING to do today – continue going through the drawings, setting up test plans, organizing the documentation for the project.

Instead, we’re meeting Cindy at the airport.

Not too big a shock. I’ve met Cindy. I’ve seen her and her airplane, so when we show up at the airfield – OUR airfield – I’m not awed by a sleek turboprop aircraft sliding down out of the sky onto OUR grass strip.

The door opens. First one out of the door – female, mid five foot range, honey-colored hair, nice-looking girl that I recognize from company pictures, but I can’t remember her name. Somebody’s wife.

“Hi, I’m Dana.”

“Are you my new technician?”

“You REALLY don’t want that,” she giggled. And behind her in the door...

Oriental. As in Japanese Chinese Vietnamese Korean. Who knows? I sure don’t.

She’s a bit over five feet tall because she has to bend just a little to get through the door of the plane. Her hair’s a shiny BLACK. Sleek. Short. Bangs. Almond-shaped eyes, dark brown, naturally. And she probably weighs a hundred pounds.

“I am the technician,” she said. “Kim Soon Yi.”

“Sunny,” Dana said. “Not Kim. Just ask her.”

“Dana...” Sunny said.

“Just explaining cultural differences.” Dana smiled. “Very educational. Now I know, Sunny.”

“You’re the technician for that Arkansas job?” I asked.

“I was told you needed help. I’m help.” Her eyes narrowed. Being oriental, that means REALLY narrowed.

“Back your truck up close,” Dana instructed.

“Where’s Cindy? I know YOU didn’t fly this thing here,” Bill said.

“Who wants Cindy?” came the disembodied voice.

“Just checking,” Bill said.

By the time that conversation finished, the big cargo door on the side of the plane was open.

“What’s this?” I asked. A platform on a chassis, supported by four tracks. Not symmetrical. Tied down.

“That’s Bubba-bot,” Sunny said. “You and I are to use him and evaluate him in the real world.”

“Really? What’s it supposed to do?”

“He’s a carrier, more than anything. He can carry three hundred pounds over varied terrain, can learn a path, can learn a layout from a map, and he can pick up and deposit boxes and cases,” Sunny aid. “Watch this.”

She reached under the corner of the inanimate apparatus. I heard a click, then a series of beeps.

“He’s waking up.”

A long beep. “Hi, Bubba,” Sunny said. “It’s Sunny. See me.”

A ‘head’ rose on a stalk, craning out from under a shorter side. It swiveled. And, “Hiiii.”

“Bubba, this is Carl. He’s good.”

“Hiiii, Carllll.”

“Say ‘hi’ to him. Use his name.”

“Hi, Bubba.”

“Put your hand on that case,” she said.

“This one?”

“Yeah. Tell Bubba to pick it up.”

“Bubba. Pick up this case.”

Bubba’s head swiveled. “Ooo-kay...” and a couple of arms sort of unfolded from the long sides, extended, gripped the case, picked it up and deposited it on his platform ‘back’.

“Shit!” I said.

Cindy was over on the side of this display, smiling. “Munchkin magic.”

“Bubba, put the case in the truck.”

I thinking the amount of ‘thinking’ that goes on here and I’m amazed. Bubba rolls to the truck, does a 180 turn, picks up the case, and puts it on the tailgate.

Sunny put her hand on the next case. “Bubba. Same thing.”

In four trips, a hundred thousand dollars worth of test equipment was on the back of the truck.

“We’ll have to arrange it in the truck,” Sunny said. “He’s not up to that yet. But we need to leave room for him.”

“For him?”

“Yeah.”

I got into the back of the truck, pushed things around, climbed back out.

“Bubba,” Sunny said, “Get in the back of the truck.”

“Ooo-kay.”

And damned if he didn’t. Yes. Fifteen minutes. ‘It’ became a ‘he’.

“Anything else?” Bill asked Cindy.

“Nope. Gotta get Dana back to work,” she said. “Sunny, if you need rescuing, give us a call.”

Sunny looked at me. “I think I can control ‘im,” she smiled. “Not once have his knuckles dragged the ground since we got here.”

“Heyyy,” I protested.

“Just remember to activate Bubba’s cellular once a day. Lunchtime ‘ll work. And take good notes.”

“You’re on the design team?” I asked Sunny.

“Got recruited. I’m one of Jason’s techs. They thought I’d come over here on this project and help you and give Bubba-bot a go.”

I noted that Cindy and Dana migrated over into the hangar, obviously talking about a big ol’ biplane, a combination of ancient configuration and shiny finish.

Flying, they’ve got it bad. Seems like a lot of people in this company have the bug. I’m curious, but ONLY curious.

We watched them get back in the turboprop and fly off, did another walk-thru of the new offices. Carpet’s going down in the reception area and offices and conference room. That should be this week. I think they’re planning on moving us in next week.

I looked at my new assistant while we talked about that.

“We’ll be up to our eyeballs in new substation,” I said.

“That will not be as precarious as upgrading an existing sub,” she said.

“You’re right,” I returned.

“I am right a lot.”

Just what I need in a technician. I wonder if I can get away with calling her ‘you dumb shit’ as I have done with previous technicians. Probably not. Okay, Carl, you can do this. You know how to be a decent human being and you know how to be a good teacher and above all, you know how to do your job.

The three of us walked to the truck. My truck, so I get to drive. Bill offered the front passenger seat to Sunny.

“Very nice of you,” she said, “but you can better use the legroom. I imagine I will get enough time in that seat very soon.”

Yeah, she will. Four hour drive in the morning from the local office to the jobsite. If she wants to talk, I get to listen.

I kinda want to find out what makes this one tick. I’ve seen ... oh, hell, it’s not supposed to be about how people look, right? I’m not supposed to be stereotyping, but if I was, neat-looking oriental girls aren’t normally found in the ranks of power system technicians.

Yes, I have a lot of questions. Wouldn’t be much different if she weren’t, well, cute...

We got back to the office, introduced Sunny to Maddie, then I showed her where our lab/tech room was.

I don’t have to ask questions. I can sit in the corner and let Haley and Deena ask questions.

So let’s see what I know now. She’s married once, divorced. She’s five semesters into an electrical engineering degree. She’s been almost a year in the field as a technician. She’s intending to go back and finish her degree, but “Yeah, it IS fun to actually work with this stuff instead of studying about it, and the stuff you study, you have to really make some leaps to put it in terms of how it’s applied.”