Margaritifer Basin (Margaritifer Trilogy Book 1) (4 page)

“Tomorrow should
be another nice Spring day in Southern Califor…”

Jeff hit the mute
button again. “No fuckin’ way.” He dropped the remote on the coffee table,
trotted out to his car, grabbed the tickets out of the glove box, went back
inside, sat down at his computer and went to the California Lottery website.

Draw Results on
4/13/12: 53 28 51 7 22 and MEGA# 30

Jeff started down his
list of numbers, comparing them with those on the screen.

“Nope, nope, nope,
nope, nope, nope…” and he suddenly froze. His heart began to pound and he found
himself short of breath as he nervously glanced back and forth between the
lottery ticket and the computer screen. After checking the numbers about thirty
times, Jeff sat back and stared at the ticket, gasping for air.

“Oh, mother of God.”

Monday, April 16,
2012 (T minus 1436 days)

Jeff walked out of the lottery
office and stopped in the parking lot. He felt lost and in desperate need of
talking to someone, anyone. Seeing no one around, he started talking to
himself. “I have $405 million dollars in my bank account. Okay, now what? What
do you do with four-tenths of a billion dollars? Get an accountant? A lawyer? A
stockbroker? Buy a new car? A new house? A small Latin American nation? Start a
foundation? Finance world peace? I wonder what kind of American Express Card
you can get with that kind of money? The AMEX Plutonium Card? I wonder if I can
buy a $20 million dollar yacht… with my debit card? I have no idea.”

He had to think and, looking
around, quickly concluded a parking lot in Santa Ana probably wasn’t the ideal
spot to do it. He slowly walked back to his car, stopped short and just stood
there staring at the old Camry. “Hmmm, maybe I should get a new car. That would
be a start.” He tilted his head and continued to stare at the Camry with a
puzzled expression. “But what kind of car?” Slowly a broad smile came across
his face, “Maybe one of each. I’ll need a bigger garage.”

Jeff got into the Toyota and headed
south toward the freeway. As he approached the onramp he pulled to the side and
stopped. He suddenly remembered once seeing a giant Mercedes dealership in
Newport Beach, just past the airport. It was just a couple miles down the road,
“What the hell, let’s go have a look.” He headed south on the freeway, getting
off at Jamboree Road and pulled into the parking lot of Fletcher Jones
Motorcars. He sat in the Camry for a minute looking around. There were Mercedes
in front of the building, in the building, on top of the building, hundreds of
them, every direction he looked. The odds seemed good they would have something
he’d like.

Jeff walked across the lot, looking
at this and that, and into the showroom. Glancing around, he noticed a big
sleek white sedan and walked straight up to it. He walked around it and peered
through the windows. White leather, nice. This would do.

“Nice car, isn’t it?”

Jeff turned around to find a
salesman hovering right behind him. “Yeah, beautiful.”

“Top of the line, S65 AMG. Fully
equipped. Every option. Just arrived.”

“May I sit in it?”

“Sure, let me unlock it for you.”

Jeff slid in behind the steering
wheel and looked around the interior. He felt numb. Not like he was drunk, but
maybe like he’d taken one too many Vicodin. His whole world was suddenly a bit…
surreal. His eyes settled on the speedometer. He stared at it for a bit, then
pointed, “Is that right? 220 miles per hour?”

“It won’t go quite that fast, but
pretty close.”

“Amazing,” Jeff responded with more
indifference than astonishment. “What’s this?”

“That’s your GPS navigation and
rear view camera.”

“Rear view camera?”

“Yes. When you shift into reverse a
camera in back shows you where you’re going.”

“Really. Huh.”

Jeff sat quietly for some time,
gazing around the interior, but not really looking. It was all just too unreal.

The salesman, perhaps thinking Jeff
might just be some nut case off the street, started shifting anxiously. “Sir,
were you thinking of making a purchase today?”

“Uh, yeah. I guess so.”

“Alright. Perhaps I might show you
something else?”

Jeff placed his hands on the
steering wheel and turned it ever so slightly. “No. This is nice.” He took a
deep breath, trying to draw himself out of the mental fog, and slid out of the
car. He stood for a minute with crossed arms and pursed lips, slowly shaking
his head back and forth. “It’s a lot bigger than my Toyota.”

“Than your… Toyota?”

“Uh huh. It’s parked outside.” Jeff
took another deep breath and nodded to himself. “Okay. I’ll take it.”

The salesman coughed and cleared
his throat, “Sir, do you know how much this automobile costs?”

Jeff shook his head, “No.”

“Sir, this car is two hundred
thousand dollars.”

“Okay.”

The salesman, still unconvinced of
Jeff’s sanity said, “Alright, sir. I’m Richard, if you’d care to accompany me
to my office, we’ll draw up the paperwork.”

Jeff turned and offered his hand.
“Okay, Richard. I’m Jeffrey Grey. Lead on.”

They walked across the showroom and
Jeff took a seat opposite Richard’s desk.

“Alright Mr. Grey, and, uh, how did
you plan on paying for this?”

Jeff pulled out his wallet and
handed Richard his debit card.

Richard sat for a moment staring at
the card then looked askance at Jeff, “Mr. Grey, this is a debit card!”

“Uh huh. There’s plenty of money.
Call my bank.”

About an hour later Jeff found
himself back on the San Diego Freeway, heading for Long Beach in his brand new
Mercedes. He didn’t know what the bank had said to Richard, or whoever called,
but when Richard returned to the office he had half a dozen people in tow,
issuing orders to get Jeff whatever he wanted to drink, appraise his old Camry,
fill out paperwork for him… everything but a manicurist. All Jeff had to do was
sign his name in a couple places, wait for them to shuffle some cars in the
showroom to get his out, and he was on his way.

He liked the smell of the new car.
He was also beginning to like the idea of having a great deal of money.

As Jeff drove past Long Beach
Airport, he suddenly had a thought and turned off at Cherry Avenue. Two miles
up the road he turned in to Forest Lawn Memorial Park, parked the car, walked
down the long path to a familiar spot, sat down on the lawn at the foot of the
grave and stared at the marker.

Marsha Marie Grey

August 14, 1964

November 4, 2009

“Hey babe. Been keeping up with
current events? Wow, what a day. I’ll tell you, somebody sure has a cruel sense
of irony, that’s for sure. All the money in the world and too late to do
anything for you.”

Jeff closed his eyes, bowed his
head and sat quietly for a time, not knowing what to say or even what to think.
After a while he looked around the park and shook his head, “Any idea what I
should do now? I could sure use your help, ‘cause I have no clue. It’s an awful
lot of money, but not enough to cure all the world’s woes. What do you think?
Maybe some kind of philanthropic foundation? Take a shot at curing… something?
Maybe scholarships for a gazillion kids to go to college? Or, I could buy an
island in Greece. I’ll name it Isle de Marsha and retire in seclusion.” Jeff
grinned, “You’d haunt me if I did that, wouldn’t you? There’d be chains
rattling in the halls at night. Okay, scratch the Greek island. I don’t know.
Heck, I don’t even have anyone to leave it to.”

He stood up and walked around the
grave, glancing down at it from time to time. “You’re not helping. How about a
sign?” He paused, pointed his finger at the grave and grinned, “And not like
those pigeons last year after I told you I bought a new bed. That wasn’t kind.”
He resumed his circular pacing, “The obvious choices would be cancer research
or education… or both. But there’s already so much money going into that, and
so much being wasted by politicians and bureaucrats building monuments and
edifices to themselves. Would a couple hundred million more help? Would the
Marsha Grey Memorial Cancer wing at some hospital really make a difference?
Twenty years from now would it be renamed after some philanthropist that came
along with a bigger wheelbarrow full of money?”

Jeff stopped and stared off into
the distance, “You know honey, I’d like to do something, something… different.
Something… profound. Something that would really make a difference. Something
that would be remembered forever.” He paused and bit his lip, “But not because
I did it, but because… somebody did it. Something that no one else has done
because no one has been willing to stand up, raise their hand and say, ‘Okay,
I’ll do it.’ Any ideas? There has to be something, probably a lot of things.
But what? What can one man do that would change the course of history?”

He started walking again, “Hmmm, I
could run for president. I can see the headlines now, ‘Lottery winner has eyes
on White House.’” He laughed, “No, I don’t think so. Come on, help me out here.
There has to be some examples to emulate, who?  Edison invented the light bulb.
That would be a biggie. Einstein gave us an understanding of how the universe
works. IBM invented the personal computer and Bill Gates gave us Windows. Hmmm,
still not sure those are good things. Hillary went to the top of the world and
Piccard and Walsh to the bottom. And Neil Armstrong set foot on the moon.”

Jeff stopped and rubbed his chin.
“Neil Armstrong set foot on the moon. Hmmm, that did change things, didn’t it?
All of a sudden we were no longer prisoners of this third rock from the sun.
That
was a biggie. But after Apollo, we never took the next step. In fact, we took a
couple steps backwards, got complacent and called it ‘good enough.’ What’s the
next step? How do we expand our horizon? By the time NASA gets off its ass and
launches a manned mission to Mars I’ll probably being laying there beside you.
Nobody wants to explore anymore. Seems like everyone just wants cradle-to-grave
security, and somebody else to pay for it.

“I don't know, babe. I doubt $400 million would
even scratch the paint on that one. Still, it might be enough to get the ball
rolling. To put man’s footprints on Mars… now
that
would be
something. That would be remembered. Eh, now don’t be shaking your head and
rolling your eyes, it was just a thought. Hey, what do you think of the car?
Pretty spiffy, huh? I know, it cost twice what we paid for the house, but I
guess I can afford it now. And no, I’m not going to sell the house. That’s our
house and always will be. So let’s not see your hand come up through the ground
and wring my neck, okay?”

Jeff walked around and stood at the foot of Marsha’s
grave, “Well honey, guess I ought to be going. Things to do.” He sighed and
stared at the stone, “I don’t know what God had in mind for us. Sure wish he’d
explain it, ‘cause I'm stumped. If you happen to run into him, you might ask. I
sure miss you.”

Jeff walked slowly back to the car
and drove home. He hadn’t visited Marsha’s grave in several months, and felt
bad about it. But it was a good visit – one that he needed – and he felt
better. As he left the garage and started toward the house Jeff stopped, turned
around, stared at the big new Mercedes and shook his head. “Things are sure
going to be different.”

It was still early in the
afternoon, but Jeff needed a drink. He passed on the beer, grabbed a glass,
tossed in a few ice cubes and poured some scotch from the old bottle over the
fridge. As he headed for the living room he noticed the flashing message light
on the answering machine. He pressed the Play button and the machine announced,
“You have 32 new messages. First message.” Jeff immediately hammered the Stop
button, “32 messages? You’ve gotta be kidding!” He hit Play again and got the
same announcement. The first call was from a reporter, as was the second, and
third, and fourth. Jeff hit the Stop button again. He had given the lottery
folks his phone number, but they swore that all his personal information would
be confidential. How did all these reporters find him? He yanked open the desk
drawer, pulled out the Long Beach telephone book and looked himself up. There
it was, Jeffrey Grey, the one and only. “Damn.” The good news was that there
was no address listed. He should probably thank Marsha for that. He let the
answering machine sit. He’d call them back later… or not.

Instead of dropping into the living
room sofa to stare at nothing in particular, Jeff headed for the office, a
spare bedroom he and Marsha had converted into a place to conduct household
business. With no children and few guests, bedrooms, except for theirs, were
pretty much a waste of real estate. He sat down at the desk, turned on the
computer, opened Internet Explorer and entered the search word, “Mars.” It was
a ridiculous idea, but he had time on his hands and nothing else to do.

“Mars – Wikipédia”

“Mars Exploration”

“Mars Introduction”

“Planet Mars”

“NASA – Mars”

“Mars pole dancing,” Hmmm, may have
to save that one for later.

87,600,000 results. This could take a while.

Jeff had been teaching his students
about Mars and the planets and the solar system for years and thought he knew a
fair amount on the subject. He was wrong.

He began reading. One link led to
another.
Mars exploration. Mars climate. Mars hydrology.
Mars
rovers. Flight to Mars. Hohmann transfer orbits. Mars perihelion. Newton’s 3rd
law. Mars atmosphere. Delta IV rockets. SpaceX. Falcon Heavy, $90 million a
launch. Low Earth Orbit. Geo Transfer Orbit. Escape velocity – C3.

After four hours Jeff was
exhausted, but he had learned three things: A manned mission to Mars was very
difficult, a manned mission was very expensive, and a manned mission was…
possible. He sat back from the computer and massaged his head. He suddenly
wished he’d taken a masters or doctoral degree and learned how to do proper
research. This would take some thought. Where to begin? The scientific method
suggested he first needed a hypothesis. A hypothesis which could be tested with
observable, empirical and measurable evidence, collected through observation
and experimentation. Okay, so what was his hypothesis? That he could finance a
manned mission to Mars? That seemed an oversimplification; he had to do better
than that. How about, he could finance a manned mission to Mars with existing
commercially available, off-the-shelf technology? Now there’s a thought. It
seemed like every time NASA embarked on a new program the first thing they went
about was spending billions of dollars inventing a whole bunch of new stuff.
Jeff wondered if perhaps this could be done with what we have now; no new
technology required, no ‘to be invented’. That should save a very large bundle
of money.