Chapter 24

The flight from Burnside North – the Whirlwind South International Airport, actually – to Los Angeles was going to be a piece of cake. Chocolate cake, even. Or so I thought.

Turns out that I should check things before I ‘whirlwinded.’ Saturday was maintenance day at WSIA, so our jet and its flight crew were out. I called Cap.

“Cap, we need to get to Los Angeles, ASAP. We have an important meeting with someone at USC tomorrow morning.”

He just laughed. “I see nothing has changed. Everything is ‘deadline: yesterday.’ We can’t fly out right now. The plane is down until tomorrow. We have to keep it working right, you know?”

“I understand,” I said, dejectedly. “What’s the absolutely fastest we can get there?”

“Uh ... Probably not before two a.m. tomorrow. We could probably get the plane ready by eleven or midnight. Where do you want to go? There are about a dozen airports in the LA area,” he replied.

“I dunno.” I was stumped. “Somewhere close to USC, I guess.”

[Lexi, Burbank Airport would be best. It’s closest to USC. That’s where they filmed the ending of ‘Casablanca’ you know.]

I had no idea. But thanks.

I got that in a few seconds, and continued on with Cap. “I guess that Burbank Airport would be easiest for ground transport.”

“Well, they’re open 24/7 so we can get in. And there’s less air traffic at that time of day.” He was working through the problem.

I really loved my SotH crew. They’re all so committed to doing all the crazy things I think of.

“Can you make two round trips? I have to take Chas with me. That’s a must. But he wants to take his Nanta and his Uncle. I don’t think they’re going to travel at those hours.”

“No can do, Lexi. I’d really rather be awake for the second flight. But if they can travel later – say late Sunday afternoon – that’ll work. Flight time is only an hour and a half, but...”

“Oh, no problem, Cap. I understand. We’ll work around your schedule. Plan the second flight whenever you’re ready. Sorry to lay this on you suddenly.”

“‘S okay, Lexi. It’s only one day.”

I walked into Nanta’s home and said, “Chas, we’re going on ahead to LA. Nanta and Uncle Feather in the Hat will come later. Probably tomorrow. We’re going to fly out late tonight. We have an early appointment with someone who can get started on your experiments. Now, take Bear and go back to your house and pack your stuff.”

I explained what the plan was to the elder Ojibwe.

At 23:20 we were wheels up and headed to Burbank Airport. At 1:15 on Sunday, we were coasting in. I looked around. It DID look like the last scene of Casablanca, fog and all. In my mind’s eye, I could even see Bogie say to Bergman, “Here’s looking at you, kid.” When we got to the terminal, they even had posters of the movie, even though it was forty years old.

I’d taken only Rock with me on the flight. Bear would be coming with Nanta and UFH. To them, all this was just something they did to keep Chas on an even keel.

Now that I thought about it, ‘even keel’ was a strange turn of phrase. The keel of a boat is the part at the bottom of the boat. It’s usually weighted, so the sea wouldn’t rock the boat excessively, right? So what is an ‘even’ keel? When the boat doesn’t rock? Wouldn’t that be a ‘level deck’? And could you change the keel even if you wanted to? I mean, in a regular boat, not one of those fancy-dancy racing boats that we developed in the 21^st century.

I was drifting again – obviously – while Rock went up to the check-in desk at the hotel at the airport. He came back with three keys for a two-bedroom suite. I got one of the beds, Chas got the other room, and Rock got the sofa that pulled out to a bed. At 2:25 I hit the bed, and was asleep in three minutes.

I must be getting old – older. The eight o’clock wakeup call came much too early. Five and a half hours of sleep just wasn’t enough. I needed to pound on Rock with a pillow to get him moving. Chas was up and ready in no time. I wasn’t even twenty-five now and I felt old this morning. Maybe I should do more exercising; running all over the place in my mind didn’t quite do it.

I felt a little better after I got some caffeine with breakfast. And the waffle didn’t hurt me much, either. I always felt better after eating.

We left for USC in plenty of time. It seems that even on Sunday morning, LA had enough traffic to make me cringe. The taxi driver took it all in stride, however. On campus, we followed the map to the chemistry complex. The doors were open to the public, and we followed signs to Dr. Schmidt’s office. I knocked, and got a “Come in” in reply.

“Dr. Schmidt?” I held out a hand. “I’m Alexis White Owl. My associate is Joshua Painted Rock – Rock for short. And THIS young gentleman is Charles White Earth. He’s the reason we’re here.”

“Ms White Owl,” she said. “Pleased to meet you.” She nodded for us to take a seat. “I assume that Mr. White Earth is going to be the one who’s awarded a Nobel someday.”

“Chas. I prefer to be called Chas,” he said, uncomfortably.

She picked up on his discomfort. “Right. Then Chas it shall be,” she said with a smile.

“Before we get to the good stuff,” I said, “we should execute the non-disclosures.” I handed the form that Desert Flower prepared for us. It was the same one I had about a hundred copies of in my office back in the Factories.

She read it carefully – always a good idea – and then signed the bottom. Rock signed as a witness. I took it back and told her we’d make a copy for her files.

“Spirit of the Hunter is a rather unusual name. I take it that the name comes from the American Indian tribes you mentioned in our phone call.”

“Yes, and we’ve already made some progress that benefit the Hopi, Navajo, and Shoshone tribes,” I confirmed. “‘The Hunter’ is one of the many names we’ve given to the Great Spirit. He doesn’t really care what name we use.” I laughed a bit.