Page 6 - Unlikely Stories 5
P. 6

The Forteana Suppressor



          They followed a well-beaten path past the trailer toward the sound.
        It went behind a low hill and into an open space where they found
        the generator. It sat next to a wide depression in the earth covered by
        loose rope netting. Pegs hammered into the ground at intervals held
        it in place. A cable ran from the generator through a large opening in
        the net into the pit. The absurdity of it made Larry laugh.
          “What is he doing here? Makes no sense.”
          The generator answered with a knock and a miss. The two men
        approached the  only access to the  space below and peered  into it.
        Filtered sunlight revealed a broad bowl-shaped cavity, about sixty feet
        in diameter and twenty feet deep. In it was an assortment of objects
        difficult to discern. The  cable went  into the middle of what might
        have been a small meteor crater and disappeared into the ground.
          “Look,” said Keith. “If we follow that cable we can get a better
        view  of  this  set-up.  I  can  make  out  where  Femilius  must  have
        climbed down. Steep, but not too steep.”
          Larry was doubtful. “Do you think we should? We’re not supposed
        to touch anything.”
          “So,  who’s  touching  any  of  his  stuff?  I  just  want  to  see what  is
        going on down there, if anything. I can get flash pictures if it’s too
        dark.”
          “Okay.”
          They  clambered  down  the  incline,  half-slipping  and  sliding  on
        gravel.  Getting  out  would  be  an  effort,  Larry  realized.  His  eyes
        adjusted to the lower light, and he surveyed the area. Yes, the cable
        disappeared  into  the  earth.  Whatever  it  was  powering  was  out  of
        sight, below the surface somewhere. Of greater interest to him were
        the things lying around on the ground. He saw an anvil, a tree stump,
        a pile of tennis balls, a basket of large feathers with tags attached, a
        bucket filled with a thick fluid. I wonder, he began, almost out loud,
        when Keith interrupted him.
          “Now I remember. Femilius is preparing a dramatic presentation
        here.  When  he’s  ready  he’ll  call  in  the  press  and  the  television
        cameras  and  show  them  what  Tesla  had  unintentionally
        accomplished.”
          “Huh?”


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