light poking through from a small skylight installed overhead. On the wall overhanging the workbench were a variety of tools filling the space, all placed in neat precision. Cooper noted they were wiped down and oiled. Spotless.
The workbench itself was covered with a project that looked like another drone, but slightly larger. Various white plastic parts were held together with metal clamps and wooden spacers. A spiral notebook lay next to the device, containing sketches and scribbled notes.
Irv pulled a long black case from one of the grey metal shelves that was burdened to overflowing with equipment. He gingerly set it down on a white plastic folding table, just like the one in Fredo’s apartment that served as his dining table. The horn-rimmed inventor undid two snapping locks on the front and opened the lid. Embedded in charcoal grey packing foam was a drone, in two pieces. In the lower corner was a controller unit, about ten inches across.
Cooper’s heart rate started to accelerate as he touched the smooth plastic surface as if it was a tusk of ivory. The white belly of the thing almost glowed under his fingers. It was the most exciting toy he’d ever coveted. He’d wanted one since he let one soar over the sandy desert in Afghanistan, a year before they became common use. Initial price tags were way over his budget, costing more than a car. Now, he might actually be able to have one for his very own.
“Okay, now I’m going to tell you the bad news. This was a prototype that didn’t sell, mostly because it is line of sight and everyone wants expensive night vision and IR stuff.”
Fredo stepped closer and asked, “So you can’t use this at night?”
“Well, you could, if you mount an IR camera on it.” Irv answered. “That was going to make it more expensive, and, at the time, they were a little heavy, and costly. Things are changing so fast, it could be done.” He pointed over at the workbench. “Requires some design enhancements.” He turned back to Coop and Fredo. “But I’ll let you do it.”
“I could do it, for sure. You ever run across them?” Cooper asked.
“All the time, but I’m using them. I get one in I don’t need, or want, I’ll give you a call, okay?”
Cooper nodded his head. Then he remembered he wasn’t supposed to show his interest in the equipment, and here he’d been practically drooling all over it. He stiffened, stood straight up and cracked his back by arching behind him.
“Now, let me show you one more thing.” Irv pushed a forest green button on the lower left side of the controller and the screen lit up with a grid pattern.
“Way cool,” Cooper said.
“That’s like a Google map,” Fredo said.
“That’s exactly what it is, or where it came from initially. I uploaded most of California into it. I knew you’d want to try it out in San Diego, so did the whole state, part of Nevada as well.”
“Coop, I know what you’re going to be doing for the next week. Playing with your new airplane,” Fredo added.
Irv giggled and then slapped his hands together. “That’s the coolest part. Half the people will think it’s just that, a toy airplane. Let me show you.” Irv picked up the two pieces. The body of the drone had a slot in the middle of it. He slid the wing section into the slot, positioned it halfway and they heard clicks as the material mated in place. Irv handed the machine to Cooper who almost kissed the man’s toes.
It did look just like a toy airplane.
“So, you gotta admit, that’s worth every penny of a grand, right?”
“But we don’t even know it works,” Coop barely whispered. He licked his lips.
“Oh, it works okay. It works freakin’ awesome!” Irv danced around the room, clicking his fingers together, his canvas slip-ons doing a duck walk Coop hadn’t seen since the last rerun of Soul Train.
Cooper had never in his life paid full retail. For anything. It pained him, but he had to try. “I’ll give you six hundred
Janwillem van de Wetering