Free Gravitational Constantly: A Novella by J.A. Weddle Page A

conclusively.
     
    Cara had been the only candidate that could produce consistent results in a battery of tests. Her ‘gift’ was the ability to predict events or results based on a small amount of context knowledge of the situation or test. In other words, with a fairly minimal margin for error, she could see the future. Although it was nothing short of impressive to see it performed, having her identify the card I was holding, or guess the number chosen at random between one and thirty, it was not the next step in human evolution that Futura was hoping to study. The cause of the ability could also not be documented or determined after lengthy observation, which no doubt ended their relationship.
     
    Late one afternoon, I left Futura on ground shuttle to the construction site out beyond Luna. The site was to be used for the Lens project and apparently had been its purpose all along. All the talk of psychics and telepathy had me thinking about the old man at the construction site and the story of his lost companion. There was an old wisdom to him that hailed from a time passed. He had been working on Luna for years; surely he had seen or heard more than he let on.
     
    When I arrived at the site, I wandered about the perimeter of a nearly-completed building that looked to be the mission control tower for the bridge. Crews were coming and going, moving steel girders and rebar, bags of dry concrete, and other heavy equipment about. A big man in soiled overalls stopped me near the entrance of the building. His wiry long hair was drenched with sweat and sticking to his face, which resembled a pig due to his large nostrils, big cheeks and small ears. I showed the pigman my badge from Futura and dropped Sebastian Black's name, which ended the conversation. He waved me through and I continued to look around the site.
     
    I found the old man by the sound of his raspy voice, barking orders at a crew of haggard men that looked to be putting in some type of piping leading away from the building in giant metal conduits. I watched him in action as he finished rattling off expletives and instructions. There was something timeless about him, yet fading in this current age. His breed would always be needed, but were becoming something of relics in an almost fully-industrialized world. Earth had built up nearly every continent and tapped every resource to their fullest potential. Luna was the last bastion of hard working aspiration that had once forged the world in which we all now comfortably lived in. The last great construct.
     
    His crew went back to work with a dull groan of an old engine, and the old man finally took notice of me. “And what in the hell do you want?” he thundered.
    “I, uh, I'm sorry to intrude. I … do you remember me, sir?”
    His eyes bore down on me and his squint searched my face like he was studying a map. “Oh hell, yeah I remember you, lad. What the hell you doing out here? Something I can do for Mr. Jayce?”
    “Jayce? Uh, no, listen if you're busy I can come back later. This isn't a business visit.”
    That seemed to tickle some forgotten bone, somewhere in the nuts and bolts of the old golem. He erupted into a laugh that bellowed from deep down. “Is that right? You just fancied a nice stroll out here in the desert? The deafening drone of construction your idea of easy-listening? Or you just want to see my pretty face?” He arched back into another head knocking laugh.
    The desert he referred to was no real desert of course, although many Lunarians were referring to the construction fields as such. I laughed it off with him and tried not to sound so nervous. “No, sir. Your face gave me nightmares the last time I had the pleasure of seeing you,” I jested. “I came out here to ask you about your friend that you told me about. The one that died while working on Luna.”
    The mention of his old pal hardened his smile. “Bo. What do you want to know about old Bo?”
    “This may sound crazy, but