Page 78 - Psychoceramics and the Test of Fire
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Ark Two

        finest  forgers  of  documents  and  fudgers  of  data  available  for
        piecework.  Our  own  government  did  shoddier  work  confecting
        pretexts  for  war.  The  Extrapolators  Club  had  an  extremely  well-
        burnished  reputation  in  the  proper  circles,  specifically  those  which
        Vosky could never approach closer than tangentially; and, to be sure,
        only  the  oldest,  snootiest  bank  in  Boston  guaranteed  their  checks.
        Vosky soon enough verified the account. He took the money, quit his
        night job, and went about hiring subcontractors for all the custom-
        designed pieces of his airship.
          I was tempted to put my fee in the same white-shoe bank, but I
        knew better than to leave such an obvious trail. Cassandra was not
        my muse, and it was of little interest to me whether Ark Two got off
        the ground or not. Based on my prior beneficiaries I was confident
        that  Kile  Vosky  would  squeeze  every  cent  of  value  out  of  the
        Extrapolators’  award.  But  would  he  cut  corners  if  cost  overruns
        exhausted those funds ahead of schedule? He certainly was no whiz
        at project management, and would have been prey to every sort of
        conniver and incompetent alive to the scent of money. Out of my
        hands. I wanted a few weeks off after this job, preferably in a warm
        climate.
          It wasn’t until a year later that the outcome of Mr. Vosky’s venture
        made the news, if only in the  section devoted  to horribly amusing
        oddities. Nobody could say whether or not the craft conformed in all
        crucial  respects  to  the  designer’s  intentions.  Not  enough  of  it  was
        left. The FAA investigators took the wreckage to a deserted hangar,
        as  is  its  custom,  and  began  a  half-hearted  forensic  analysis  of
        unknown components with incomprehensible functions, even when
        in original condition.
          The  immediate  cause  of  the  crash,  leaving  Vosky  and  his  two
        assistants  scattered  across  the  Sierras  in  the  midst  of  bashed
        buckyballs and a junkman’s dream of scrap metal, was a freak storm
        not  on  any  weatherman’s  radar.  It  was  explained  that  as  human
        interference  in  the  geochemical  balance  increased,  climatological
        unpredictability  would  be  the  watchword;  in  fact,  any  objective
        assessment of meteorological forecasts would have to conclude they
        were  decreasingly  reliable.  Vosky  had  not  gained  sufficient  altitude
        before the craft hit turbulence and was knocked out of the sky.
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