Part 30 (1/2)

”Yeah. I lost two hundred dollars, and I still have a hundred SecureStands in the attic at home.”

”How rea.s.suring,” John said.

”This is a way better idea,” Grace said. ”Probably.”

”I have no idea how to do a business plan,” John said.

”I'll do it,” Grace said. ”It's all pretty pictures.”

”Are you taking this seriously?” John asked.

”No, are you?” Grace replied quickly.

John couldn't help himself, and he began laughing. ”Good point.”

”What do we call ourselves?” Henry asked.

”I dunno,” Grace said.

John couldn't help himself. ”Pinball Wizards,” he said. There was no Pete Townshend in this universe, no super rock group called the Who. He'd checked. There was no Beatles either, which made John feel a little silly whenever he hummed ”Hey Jude.”

”Pinball Wizards,” Henry said, rolling it around in his mouth.

”I like it,” Grace said. ”Anything with wizards in it is cool.”

Every place John looked at was too expensive for their shoestring budget. They finally found an abandoned factory on the far side of the river. The neighborhood was decrepit, but the place had strong locks on all the doors. John signed a six-month lease, with a down payment of most of his savings. If they didn't start bringing in more money, he'd be flat broke.

If it came to that, he'd have to drop cla.s.ses and get a job. He'd be detoured from his goal of understanding the device. What a mess, he thought as he surveyed the freezing-cold factory floor. He was setting himself up for failure in his primary goal. He should just cut Henry and Grace loose, let them ruin their lives here. Yet the pinball machine was some last vestige of John's own universe. Pinball didn't exist here. He had brought it into being, an idea pa.s.sed tenuously between worlds. A simple, silly game.

An hour later, Henry and Grace appeared with Henry's truck filled with parts and pieces of pinball machines.

”We need heat,” Grace said, rubbing her hands on her shoulders.

”You want to pay that bill?” John asked.

”No. Maybe we need a trash can fire,” she said. ”Or s.p.a.ce heaters.”

”We do need electricity,” Henry said.

John moaned. He hadn't thought of utilities when he'd signed the lease. ”Let me call Toledo Edison right now,” he said. ”Do you think they'll turn it on without a deposit?”

”They might,” Grace said. ”We are a business after all.”

They hauled two more piles of parts from the lab that afternoon. As they did so, John calculated they had enough pieces to build maybe three more machines.

On their last trip, they stopped by the three bars where their machines sat and the Student Union and drained the coin bins of quarters.

”Sixty-seven dollars and fifty cents,” Henry said. ”Plus fifty cents Canadian. I gotta work on the foreign coin rejection system.” He looked up. ”But it's got to wait.”

”Why?” John asked.

Grace chimed in. ”The parents want him home for the holidays. Mine too.”

”When do you guys go?” John asked.

”Day after tomorrow,” Grace said. ”I have a train ticket to Athens.”

Henry nodded. His family was in Columbus.

”I guess it's just me for the next three weeks,” John said.

”I bet Steve would help you.”

John laughed. ”That's all right. I have work to do on a couple new features.” His eyes rested on the huge crane hanging from the ceiling. He remembered the scratch on the edge of the device, and wondered how much pressure would be needed to pull the two hemispheres of the device apart. With Grace and Henry gone...

They ordered pizza delivery, but the driver wouldn't bring it to their neighborhood. Instead Henry went out for it and brought back a steaming pie that they ate in their coats in the dusty office.

Grace raised her can of cola. ”To Pinball Wizards, Incorporated. May our b.a.l.l.s always roll!”

”Hear, hear!” Henry said.

John laughed but felt a moment's regret that Casey wasn't there to share the toast.

With electricity-kindly turned on by two coveralled workers the day after they ordered, no deposit needed-they worked through the night and finished two more machines. Henry drove Grace back to the dorm to pack in the morning but came right back with her, waving a letter.

”We're official!” Grace cried.

”What?”

”Our articles of incorporation, notarized and accepted by the great State of Ohio,” Grace said. ”We're a company!”

John opened the letter. Inside were their boilerplate articles and a form signed by the deputy secretary of state. It listed Grace as CEO, only because neither Henry nor John wanted the job. Casey would have been a great CEO, John thought.

”Aren't you two going to be late for the train?” John asked.

”Yes!” Grace cried. ”Let's go!”

”Merry Christmas!” John shouted as they ran from the building toward Henry's truck.

John turned back toward the machine he had been hips deep in, one of his single-player models. Their first machines were head-to-head, but he'd wanted from the start to build a traditional one, just like he remembered from his universe. He reached in and triggered a credit. He popped the ball into play and bounced it around for a few minutes. John had to admit that the old type of machine that he was used to was not as fun as the compet.i.tive version.

They'd gone through six flipper designs until Grace was happy. They had a hundred different b.u.mper configurations that could be built from the simple plastic parts that Henry had ordered. If they could build ten machines a month, if the money came in for each of them the same as the first machines, they could keep the factory and they might even have a little extra for salaries.