Chapter 25

Nikki's turn:

Some of this electricity stuff is messy. We needed some big capacitors for our railgun experiment. Actually, what I found out was that big high voltage capacitors are neat things to have around. We have a few inside tracks in the utility business, so between the connections of two Dans and an Alan, we got a dozen for free.

Then my Dan showed up and explained that these weren't exactly what we needed because they have a built-in electrical leak. It's called a bleeder resistor and it is for safety purposes the way they're applied in power systems, but for our purposes that feature makes them essentially useless.

"So we're dead in the water," I said.

"You have a couple of choices," Dan said.

"What are they?" Cindy, my co-conspirator, asked.

"We scrap these and buy the ones we need, but they're special order, so six months and four thousand bucks apiece and you think you need ten."

"Or," I said.

"We open these things up, pull the bleeder resistor and internal fuse out, and reseal them."

"Sounds easy enough." Cindy got that 'concerned Cindy' wrinkle right above her nose. "But I have a feeling it's not. These things are sealed."

"Uh, yeah," Dan said. "And filled with oil. So we have to be careful."

The next day a twenty-five pound fire extinguisher, a PVC kiddie pool and two hundred and fifty pounds of oil absorbent material that looked like something from Tommi's litterbox showed up.

Within a week the four of us were at the local fire department's training ground for a gratis lesson on the use of fire extinguishers on oil fires. That powder goes everywhere. Along with the soot from an oil fire pit.

Then we got to work. Nasty, messy, oily work. And learning to solder with a torch. And how to use a vacuum pump to properly refill those stupid capacitors.

Susan looked at me. Took a picture. Showed me my face with a greasy black smudge on one cheek. "Doin' science is messy," Terri said.

"Yes it is," I said. "But now we have something interesting.

And a stern safety lecture from Dan to the effect of "You are now in possession of devices that will store enough electrical energy to kill you instantly and blow pieces off your body while doing it."

"Under no circumstances will we power up the high voltage stuff without one of you guys around," Cindy said. "At least until we establish some procedures and safeguards. I'm thinking a steel cage. With a door interlocked to short out the cap bank."

Dan's head snapped over to Cindy. "Huh?"

"Interlocked," she said. "And I don't mean through the control system. I mean real shorting bars on the high voltage bus."

"Where'd you come up with that?" he asked her.

"Me 'n' Nikki, looking at some stuff about safety systems. We don't want any stages between an action and a safe outcome that have as many failure modes as our control system does. So here's what we want to do."

Dan was still talking about it when we were home that evening. I was sitting there with Tommi on my lap. I was petting the cat and he was purring hard enough to almost shake the sofa.

"You two are almost scary, baby," he said.

I knew what he meant, but sometimes I like to play. "Me an' Tommi?"

"No, I'm the one that feels like the cat. You and Cindy Sue."

"Oh, that! Honey, don't you think it makes sense? We looked up some stuff on the Internet about safety devices that have to be routed through the process control computer. It's usually a bad idea. You want to get your safety equipment as deep into the primary system as you can. That's where the term 'crowbar protection' comes from."

"Oh, hell! I know where it comes from, baby."

I smiled at my guy. "Well now, so do we."

"But you're fifteen."

I did my Terri imitation. "Almost SIXTEEN!"

"I know," he said. "Next week. But I didn't know the stuff you four are into when I was that age. I was playing with electronics kits, but you, you're dealing with a couple of million joules of energy that can be released in, literally, a flash." He sighed. "I made digital dice with little LEDs."

Tommi stood up in my lap and stretched.

"I feel like Tommi watching us load the dishwasher. I have no idea..."

"Oh, if you decided to get into it, baby, you'd be there. We're just playing. I promise we won't do particle beams." I flashed my best smile at him. "Yet."

"My wife has a security clearance. I don't have a security clearance."

"I haven't gotten it yet. We just turned the paperwork in."

Tommi stalked off to whatever destination his yellow cat mind was thinking of. I had a destination in mind myself. Dan's lap. I occupied it.

"You said you'd love me even if I was in the tenth grade, baby."

"And I will love you when they put you on the space station," he said.

"I'm not going to the space station. Not unless you can come with me. And I would volunteer a whole battery of experiments." I was imagining the geometry and physics of copulation while weightless. "I think we'd need Velcro waistbands. And two million joules? That's a couple of candy bars' worth of energy."

"You're too darned cute to be talking about megajoules, little brown-haired girl."

"So why don't we move this conversation to the shower, sandy-headed guy," I countered. "And then we can experiment on the effect of friction on neural stimulation."

"I love it when you talk all smart an' stuff," he laughed, sounding goofy.

"Don't forget who educated me, sir!" Giggle.

Yep! That part works quite well. And I'm pretty sure that the rest of the parts are working, too. I adore Dan. He knows it. Seemed like it when I fell asleep in his arms. And woke up cuddled against his back and darnit! I forgot to put a shirt on so my shoulders got cold and I really needed to snuggle.

And the cat jumped on the bed and woke my guy up. Well, since he's awake, I scooted a little higher and kissed the back of his neck, something that always gets a reaction. Tommi recognized that and abandoned the bed, leaving it to me and Dan. He could've stayed. It's a weekday morning and neither Dan nor I will stay in bed, even though he doesn't need to be at the office early and I won't be missed on campus until nine.

"I got leftover grits in the fridge," I said. "Let's go fix breakfast."

"Desert Island," Dan said, dragging me tighter into his arms. "We need a desert island. Weeks of just lounging around naked."

I giggled. We've never had weeks or even days of lounging around, naked or otherwise. "Well, if that desert island didn't have a lot of ripe, low-hanging fruit, we'd starve to death," I said. "So we STILL need breakfast." Of course, as I was saying this I was wiggling my heinie trying to get him to penetrate me.

He discerned that series of movements and rolled me over on my back and ... What is it about him and me? Just clicks. I've heard some of the conversations from girls I went to school with, you know, about faking it. 'I just act like I'm enjoyin' it. That Big O don't happen. Not unless I do it myself.' Not me! I roll onto my back, spread my legs and it's off to the races. Breakfast can wait. I can't and neither can Dan. Breakfast can definitely wait.

Well, breakfast can't wait too long because I'm in the bathroom dabbing the mess between my legs and Dan's washed his hands and the cast iron griddle is heating on the stove. He starts the coffee while I attend to the cooking and presently we do sit down to a simple breakfast of fried leftover grits, eggs and bacon. And coffee.

And I stopped him at the door for the customary good-bye kiss and darned near dragged him back in the house. I know what's going on here. I'm inordinately horny right before my period. I used to ignore signs like this from my body, but now that I've got Dan, I can listen to my body and know that I have outlets. I watched his khaki-clad butt walking across the square to the back door of the office.

Yes, we could, HE could work from home. After all, I'm the one, with Cindy's assistance and Dan 1.0's approval, who laid out the networking for this place. Anything he can do at the office, he could do here, except that at the office he's go the BIG monitor and the graphics pad.

Oh, that was one of those excursions I get. I was admiring my husband's butt and I drifted off course into the world of networking.

Of course out of the corner of my eye I saw the other Dan heading in the same direction. The 'Cindy' song played on my iPhone. I went back in the door to get it. "Hi, Cindy," I said.

""Dan just left for the office," she said. "I'm doing the breakfast dishes. Come over."

"No, You come over," I said. "I got the same task. By the time you get here, I'll be finished."

"'Course you will," she giggled, " 'Cause I'm gonna finish ours before I leave." She paused. "Oh, Susan's ringing in."

"Oh, just bring the gang," I said. "I'll put on another pot of coffee."

Four. No, five. No, seven. The gang plus Terri and Rachel and Beck. Hot water for Beck. She's a tea-lover. Terri gets her own version of coffee, which is mostly milk, and Rachel doesn't like it so she's good for a mug of chocolate milk from the microwave. We're very congenial.

Beck's a hoot. She had no idea of what she was getting into when Mizz Patel told them about the new apartment for rent. They moved in, desperate to get out of the apartment they were living in. "Too many college students," Beck said. "Not the 'you' kind of college students, either. The kind that like to party."

"But we like our social scene," I had told her.

"Uh, yeah ... I see your social scene. The only part that catches me is that you don't keep kosher. Sim and I try to be observant."

"In the middle of Alabama," I said. "Where pork is its own food group."

"I know," Beck said. "The other people at the temple..."

It's an education. Sim and Beck and Rachel are the only Jews I've ever met. I'm sure one of Mom's boyfriends would've had something to say about that. But the Weismann's, Jewish, and the Desai's, Hindu, and Cindy and Susan, Baptist and we're quite ecumenical.

"But don't you worry, Nikki," Beck had said. "We make our own way in the world. And your coffee is great. And the barbecue. Alan tossed that tri-tip on for us. That's Alabama kosher."

That's the way life is supposed to be. This morning we're all sitting around the living room talking about the challenges and victories of everybody's lives.

After our coffee social we disperse like a covey of quail. Terri and Rachel are going to hang out at the engineering office.

"We have to NOT disturb the engineers," Terri says. "My dad is an engineer. If you disturb them, they get grumpy."

It's a neat arrangement. The girls are quiet enough when they check in at the office., and they're good. When they're home, at either Tina's or Beck's, and so far we've not had to go to a back-up system which is for Grandma Desai to watch them. "If Cindy is my grand-daughter, then certainly Terri and Rachel are my great-grand-daughters," she said. The fact that she glared at her two real grandkids when she said it, that's cause for a chuckle. Mizz Desai is from India. Her son and daughter-in-law are born in America. Her grandkids, despite dark complexion and ebony hair and deep brown eyes, sound American, and college is going to come before kids start showing up, so Mizz Desai thinks she's being deprived of the joys of great grandchildren. Terri and Rachel fill the need.

We load into the car, me, Cindy, Susan and Tina. Tina's day to drive today. That's her and Susan's job. I won't get my license until after my sixteenth birthday. And Cindy, when she thinks about it, she fumes. Still fourteen. She can get a learner's permit in September when she turns fifteen.