Domus Incident: Chapter One

Ethan Smith laughed.
He had never before, in his life at the Domus Colonial High School, seen such rabid incompetence. He had stood up in the middle of his class, and despite what the ‘ace’ of the class had said about the mathematical equation of the way a fusion reactor worked had almost – within moments of it being written on the board – given a value that could cause the reactor itself to go critical in such a way that would be like the joke of dividing by zero the second you turned on a small light bulb attached to the reactor. For a few moments, the top notch student-teacher had to collect himself with the rest of the class before he could think of something witty to say to hide his shock at creating such a basic error.
“Well, what is the proper equation then, Mr. Smith?” The student, Eli Wallace sarcastically asked. “The chances of that value being used in a real-world example are like being struck by lightning twice in a submarine.” The students in the class chuckled at the obvious mockery, although only four of the whole class fully grasped why he was being mocked and they held their mouths shut, listening intently to Ethan.
Ethan silently erased the last thirty minutes of work written on the holographic board and rewrote the equation in less than five minutes. He spoke with indifference, the kind used when stating facts without any kind of condescending tone in doing so.
“Actually, your whole way of going about this equation is false. That value is achieved by merely flicking the power switch. This equation would be acceptable with a warhead.” He pointed to the middle of the equation with a yardstick, “Your equation was used by J. Robert Oppenheimer when he created the Trinity bomb. We have learned since his time that we can change this coefficient by creating and installing an energy converter, with which we can harness it into a power source. And only after extreme simplification can we reach the point we’re in now with this equation, which is dealing with the microfusion cell used in energy-based weapons such as fabled ‘laser pistols’ and even surprisingly true photon-based blades.”
The actual teacher, Mr. Shepherd, burst out laughing; he knew Eli’s mistake but had been convinced by the class to stand down until one of them had found an error in Eli’s teaching. He chose not to think about the matter since his students wanted to be taught at the hands of an incompetent fool with charisma and a desire for attention, so he just stifled laughter. Said fool could regurgitate whatever was told to him with great enthusiasm as if he understood it thoroughly, but nobody had told him how to teach.
“But I was…” Eli stuttered. Nobody had ever told him so graciously that he was flat-out wrong and were correct in doing so.
“You were going to have these students leave the class with errors in their minds as facts.” He put the yardstick down, “You assumed the role of the teacher today: your duty is to use your values and understanding to teach them the rational and the true, not false and outdated engineering equations. And you absolutely failed at doing this job because I stood up and pointed out that you were wrong.” Ethan pointed to the desk Eli had originally sat down in, “Now please allow Mr. Shepherd to resume his lect-”
The bell rang, signaling the end of another school-day.
“Allow him to resume this lecture next class.” Ethan finished without any emotion other than a polite request.
The students stood up, and noisily left the room. Ethan stood with Eli and Mr. Shepherd.
“Ethan, I’ll have you tarred and feathered for that.” Eli uttered in a tone of anger with mild sarcasm. One could draw that he wouldn’t exactly tar-and-feather Ethan, but he’d try something.
“For standing up and calmly showing you an error?” Ethan replied bluntly.
“For precisely that,” Eli said.
“Now, kids, we don’t need to fight every time we meet a disagreement.” Mr. Shepherd laughed as he spoke. Eli had an animosity towards Ethan for an unnamed reason since they met in this class.
“He’s right, Eli. We both have our jobs for the day.” Ethan said. Ethan was a school engineer, and Eli was a theoretical physicist. They both had separate jobs they had taken in their freshman and sophomore years, respectively.
At the Domus Colonial High School, everyone had some job or another in relation to the major they chose when they enrolled. Eli had come from a respectable family that had major shares in the colony while Ethan had come from a newly-widowed mother with almost no money to his name that he hadn’t earned through his blood, sweat, and tears. He was one of the school’s finest engineers – despite having only above-average grades. His work had been keeping the school and its engineers at the top of the line in their field for years. Eli was a high-grade theoretical physicist, but he hadn’t really achieved much in his time at the school.
Ethan walked out the door, and continued to his office. As he reached it, he calmly punched in the access code and took a deep breath. The office was his home-away-from-home. There would be days when the principal would find him sprawled out across the desk, sleeping with a mug of coffee tipped over on the floor and other days where the air would be thick with smoke as he built a new tool or worked on his armor. Today, however, he found someone new admiring his work. Ethan grabbed a handgun-shaped tool, the photon-cutter, and aimed it at the stranger’s head. After a flick of the power switch, three red laser-sights appeared and stretched through the air from the tool to the bun of hair.
“Who are you and what are you doing in my office?” He asked, holding his arm steady. The person turned around, and he was surprised to realize this new person was feminine, and genuinely intrigued by his work.
“Are you this hostile to all your visitors?” She said, smiling. “My name is Rinoa Walter. I’ve heard all sorts about you, and was curious to meet you.” The voice she spoke with was full of sarcasm as she continued: “My ex-, Eli, says all sorts of great things about you.”
Ethan knew the name she claimed was hers. He thought for a second on why, and then she twirled a small golden keychain around her fingers. Time seemed to slow as he tried to discern what was on the end of it asides from her house and office keys. Attached to the small gold loop was a block with ‘RW’ carved into the sides. The block was a bluish green, a unique metal compound that she had developed after reading Atlas Shrugged and learning of the strength of Rearden Metal. She was the famous Rinoa Walter: the top-notch metallurgist at Domus Colony. She had almost instantly climbed to the top of her field, and then began to quiet down as far as her unwanted publicity. Rumor had it that her successor and most recent ex-boyfriend took the spotlight by swapping out the metal compounds they had both presented at the mid-term exams of last year; her sophomore year. After that rumor ran its course, he changed majors and became a theoretical physicist.
“Well, I haven’t heard too much about you, other than that disaster at mid-term last year, Miss Walter.” He said evenly.
“You’re quite different. Most people would have died if I came to see them personally.”
“I couldn’t see why, Miss Walter.” He looked her over again. She was a mildly frail depiction of beauty. She had long hair that passed her shoulders, and blue eyes with the glance of a temptress. Her dress-casual clothing of slacks and a button up suggested a form of nobility, and her presence in Ethan’s lab was not deserved. No, not because she didn’t fit the room, but because the room didn’t fit her. He looked at her eyes again, and politely held her glance with a smile.
“But, we’re skating around the purpose of this conversation.” She broke the glance as she looked to his suit of power-armor in a stasis pod. Ethan was too polite for someone known to be so horribly blunt, she thought. “My office has a mining laser that has recently broken down. I came to you because you’ve got the best track-record in the engineering department as far as getting it done and done quickly.” She stated, hiding the fact that she had seen him work in various sections of the school and was curious if he held himself like that constantly.
“That I do, Miss Walter.”
“Please, don’t call me ‘Miss Walter’ like I’m some kind of old fart of an aristocrat.”
“Why is that?”
“I don’t like it. Call me Rinoa, if you please.”
“Yes, Rinoa.”
They held each other’s stares for a few minutes before Rinoa realized she hadn’t moved. She nervously broke away and moved to leave. She hoped he wouldn’t, but she wanted him to tell her to wait.
“Do you want me at your office or are you bringing it here?” He said, breaking the silence.
“Be at my office, tomorrow during your free hour. I’m off the whole day.”




He arrived during his lunch hour, half-past ten. She was in front of a tripod-mounted mining laser, tinkering with it. She unscrewed one bolt, and a small processor fell out. He stepped through the doorway wearing his overalls, an oil-stained and faded-denim pair of overalls. He watched her toil, and then he pushed her aside. She watched him investigate, wishing she had done something to have him stay.
“The processor is the only problem,” He stated, pointing at the processor on the floor. He then took his right hand and flicked a small portion of exposed machinery. The tripod collapsed, and the laser on top of it fell apart. “Now it’s worth calling in an expert,” Ethan laughed, almost maniacally as he looked at her face. She had an expression of bewilderment.
“Well, can you fix it?” She asked, her face regaining a look of self-control.
“It will take a few hours, you know.” Ethan said. His eyes belied all the laughter he wanted to make.
“Well then, get to work. Just tell me how much I’ll need to pay you.”
Ethan spent the hours toiling away, making the hunk of scrap metal into a machine worth using. He took each separate piece, then combined them either with a twist or a slap and then combined that piece into the central motor of the laser. He worked with almost computerized precision, as if each motion of his arms had been calculated and refined then simplified to use only the exact amount of force needed to execute it, and then performed in such a manner that the loss of force was easily made up for in the desired result. Every twist of his wrench was the same kind of motion a sculptor makes when he carves the grooves on a fingertip: if there was any force used, it was only the force used in processing the thought. The rest fell into place. Between motions, the young engineer seemed to have the energy to hold a conversation. It was as if the laser, when finished, would not run off the microfusion cell in it but instead would run off his energy, like he had an outlet on his back.
“So, what do you think of the original cell?” Rinoa asked.
“Do you want my honest opinion, Ms. Walter?” The overall-clad engineer replied.
“Yes, Ethan, if you please.” She scribbled in a few figures based on the year’s mining yield.
“Personally, I think it’s awful. The word ‘garbage’ comes to mind quite a bit. I just now finished reassembling it, seeing as how the mining laser’s energy consumption was disastrous. Had it been shown how much it used before I got to it, there would have been outrage. I’m curious as to what terrible mathematics created it,” Ethan continued, pointing at various portions of the cell’s parts as he described how the cell was a disaster in this day and age. “In the days when the fusion reactor was first being researched, this would have been considered a gold-mine. Now, it’s considered about as useful and efficient as a fossil-fuel consuming combustion-engine running a suit of power armor.” He propped the tripod into the air, and activated the laser.
“Any particular reason you activated it?” Rinoa asked sharply.
“I need a test subject for the laser’s potential.” He replied bluntly and as if he were preparing to display a beloved class project.
“Follow me. Mount it on him,” She motioned to a small gravity-field emitter drone, “and let’s go.” She walked out the door, letting her right arm hold it open as she hooked around the doorway. Ethan grabbed the drone, and aimed it up at the laser. The mining tool lifted into the air, and Ethan motioned to the drone for it to follow. Moving with various beeps and clicks, it followed the pair to the mines in the back of the school.
The mines of Domus were considered a mother-load not only due to large quantities of gold, but of every other metal safe to be mined and a few that weren’t. The minerals and ores found in the planet’s crust were enormous considering its Earth-like biosphere and minor size. Rather than buy it from the company that discovered it, the ECNF moved to build a shipyard there. When it was announced that the colony was founded by the small expedition company, the ECNF and Brotherhood of Shadows moved their fleets to protect it, relocating their shipyard to the gravity well of Uranus. They did the only thing they could do now that the economy had put a peg in the proverbial map over Domus: protect it not as alms or some kind of attempt at swaying the company to selling, but as the duty of the government: the protection of industry. The colony was failing quickly, however, due to a schism in the corporation’s board of directors. The split was over how the mining colony should look. The company’s founder stood up after a long leave of absence and dissolved the council. He called upon an army of architects, city planners, and the Brotherhood of Shadows to not figure out what to do with it, but to start it. The Brotherhood of Shadows worked under a contract to explore the planet with mining probes and to clear out a suitable plot of land to house the beginning of the colony. After the architects and planners had designed it, a small section of scaffolding that was planned to be a shack had collapsed on a worker with a photon cutter. The scaffolding caused no harm, but his startled pull of the trigger caused a land-slide that exposed a large fortune in minerals. The school was built around that after the curriculum was redrawn to include mining.
After arriving there, the drone released the laser, and it quietly floated to the ground. The drone clicked and beeped twice, then hovered away. Rinoa pointed at the shining copper, and Ethan nodded. He aimed it, and discharged a red laser into the copper.
The laser discharged in spasms, making Rinoa believe it was malfunctioning. It took her a few minutes to realize, however, that the laser was not malfunctioning unless it was meant to cut shapes out of the rock rather than the copper. Each spasm of laser beam snatched a clump of copper from the cliff-face, and deposited it on the ground below. The sediment and worthless sand was left there, sitting as if that was what the copper hid. The cliff seemed to have been stripped naked.
Rinoa watched Ethan direct the mining laser with a precision she had only seen in the paintings of her grandfathers using pickaxes. She was wondering how anyone who hadn’t been trained in the craft since birth could mine with such precision. She wondered “Why?” and only after he stopped had she realized she spoke aloud.
“Because I set it to have a thin margin of purity by correcting a few lax subroutines, which decreased the range of the laser’s cutting capacity to the point where the purity will be on such a small rate, that only a few molecules in each clump won’t be copper.” Ethan spoke calmly as he deactivated the laser and called for the drone.
She thought about his words. Not all of them, just the phrase ‘Because I set it to,’ and what that meant. He spoke with no inflection, no hidden emotion or passion; he displayed his pride so openly that assuming he was trying to hide it was an insult. He stood on the word ‘I’ as he spoke, stressing it not in sarcasm or arrogance, but merely stating the fact that he did it and that he was proud of it. Her thoughts went wild with what this boy represented. He seemed to naturally move through the air and almost seemed to own the area he was in. Almost as if the area fitted him too well, and that the very air in it was grooved for his ranges of motion in specific.
“Rinoa?” He asked calmly.
She came to, and motioned the drone to grab the laser. “Yes, Ethan, how much do I owe you?” She asked quietly as she started to walk to her office. He followed, staying in step.
“Roughly twenty-seven.”
“Dollars?”
“Yes.”
“Nothing more? That’s a cheap price compared to the amount of money you just earned me.”
“As I expected.”
“Well, what’s up? No way would anyone give me this kind of efficiency in my mining laser without some kind of higher price in mind.”
“Twenty-seven is all I need to take you out on a nice date.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Saturday?”
“Make it Friday night. My Saturday’s booked.”
“Fine then.”
“Oh, and my favorite place is right on the top of that cliff we were mining at.” She opened the door to her office, motioned the drone inside and then followed it in. Ethan waited outside, and after a few minutes Rinoa exited with a small wad of money equaling thirty dollars.
“Why’s that?” Ethan took the money she handed him.
“We’ve both worked there.”
Ethan grinned, and handed back to Rinoa three dollars.