Alternating Current: A Tesla Novel (4 page)

Phillip woke-up to
the high-pitched sounds of a truck in reverse. Disoriented, he rolled off the
sofa and went over to the window. What time was it? What day was it? The
sunlight made easy work of the shear curtains and blasted Phillip in the face.
He rubbed his eyes and moved the curtains aside to absorb the dawn. The grass
glistened with dew and birds chirped. An early spring day with a blue sky. Unfortunately,
the massive garbage truck butted up to the curb ruined the image. Large men
wearing coveralls and work gloves tossed Charles Chips canisters into the rear
of the truck. It took a minute before Phillip processed the whole picture. He
cringed as the truck drove away.

He rushed
upstairs. His room was clean and his bed made. Not a single sheet of paper
remained. He fell onto the bed, face down to muffle his scream.

A few minutes
later, his grandmother tapped him on his shoulder. “Phillip, what’s wrong?”

“Grandma, did I
wake you?”

“No, dear. I have
to go to work. You caught up on your sleep, didn’t you?”

“Why didn’t you
wake me?”

“I didn’t see any
reason to, you were up all night and you came home late the night before.”

“Did you throw it
all away?”

“Yes, honey. It
was just paper. You better get ready for work now.” Mavis kissed her grandson
goodbye. “Don’t forget to make up the sofa.”

Phillip followed
her grandmother downstairs and collected the pillow and blanket from the sofa,
careful to hide the one remaining concept between him and the pillow.

***

The various
Russian-American dictionaries at Barnes and Noble didn’t help determine the
foreign signature on the concept. Phillip noticed Carrie glancing over at him
when she went behind the counter. After the other night, he was quite certain that
she was either mad that he was reading on the job, or she was curious about the
several foreign dictionaries open on the counter. He decided to show her the
document.

Carrie was
intrigued from the start. She suggested they talk about it in her office.

Phillip grabbed
the Russian-American Dictionary and followed her to the office. “I think it’s
Russian, but I can’t find any similar words in this dictionary.”

“Maybe it’s
another language.” Carrie glanced at the signature. “Why don’t you “Google”
it?”

Phillip wished he
had come up with that idea. “Good idea.” He typed the signature into the search
engine. “Bezplatna Struja.” A split second later, five-hundred-thousand results
appeared. Unfortunately, they were all in the same unknown language.

“Try a language
translator site.”

Another good idea
he hadn’t thought of. He typed “free translation sites” into the search engine.

“I’m curious, why
did you type “free translation sites?”

“I always use the
word “free” when I search the Internet. It brings up all the free sites first.”

“Not always.”
Carrie revealed a flaw to his theory. “Almost every site offers a “free” trial
period of some kind.”

Phillip changed
the subject. “Here’s one, let’s try it.” He typed the signature into the
translator site. It required you to select the language you want translated.

“Go with your
first instinct. Try Russian.”

Phillip chose
Russian from the drop-down-list of languages. The translation came back:
“Bezplatna Struja.” Obviously not Russian.

“Try German or
Italian.” Carrie was definitely intrigued with it all.

Phillip typed
away. The German translation came back the same. The Italian translation
changed “Bezplatna” to “Bezplatne.” They tried Albanian, Hungarian, Dutch, and
many others. Greek, Hebrew, Norwegian, Spanish and Portuguese all bore the same
results as Russian or German. Polish translated to “Free Struja.”

One by one,
Phillip tried every language available on the site. Ready to give up, he chose
“Serbian” from the drop-down-list and clicked the “Translate” button. The
translation came back “Free Electricity.”

"That can’t
be right.” He exclaimed. “No parent would name their kid that.”

Carrie suggested
something else. “Maybe it’s not a name. Maybe it’s a motto, you know, like a
slogan, maybe a belief, or a goal. It could mean just about anything.”

Phillip couldn’t
believe her zeal. They were both neglecting their duties, but she didn’t seem
to care. “Many of the concepts my grandmother threw away had to do with
electricity. Maybe this person wanted everyone to have free electricity.”

“Could be,” Carrie
said. “But this concept is about water.”

“What? Are you
sure?”

“Well, I’m not a rocket
scientist, but I’m pretty sure those molecules marked “H2O” are water.”

“Very funny.”
Phillip played it off, but deep down he was impressed. “Okay Miss PH.D, what
about those molecules marked “D2O?”

“That’s easy,
Deuterium Oxide.”

“How do you know
that?”

“I told you, it’s
not rocket science---well, it might be---but either way, it’s right there in
the project’s name.”

“I'll Google it.”

The Google results
for Deuterium Oxide, better known as “Heavy Water,” revealed its use in nuclear
reactors. Heavy Water contains a high proportion of the isotope Deuterium. A
stable isotope of hydrogen abundant throughout the oceans.

“Boring.” Carrie
yawned.

“Not really.”
Phillip explained. “My grandfather was given those papers in 1943. There
weren’t any nuclear power plants till the late 50’s.”

“Do you think it’s
a nuclear bomb?”

“I hope not. I
don’t know what to think. I just wish my grandmother hadn’t thrown away all
those other documents.” Discouraged, Phillip leaned back in his chair.

“Hey, Google ‘Free
Electricity.’ just for the hell of it. It can’t hurt.”

“What? Uh, okay.

The results for
“Free Electricity” were endless, about 11 million. They skimmed through page
after page of ideas and foolproof ways to obtain free electricity from various
sources. Blueprints for homemade solar panels and devices to either slow down
or stop the electric company’s meters. Build-it-yourself windmills, turbines
and countless books about how to obtain free electricity legally from local
power companies. Even a video showing how to wire a lamp to a phone jack,
thereby using the phone company’s power instead of your own.

“That’s pitiful,”
Carrie said.

Bored with most of
the websites, Phillip perked up when they watched the last video. “That’s
awesome.”

“No it’s not,”
Carrie said. “It’s just a lamp. You couldn’t power an entire house that way.”

“No, not the lamp.
The extreme measures people will go through to get free electricity.”

Carrie had a
dumfounded look on her face.

Phillip had a huge
grin on his. “I get it, now.”

“You get what?”

“What the mad
scientist meant by his comment. I understand it now.”

“Then please tell
me, because I’m lost.” Carrie leaned closer to Phillip.

“One of the
concepts my grandmother threw away had this comment; ‘The tyranny of dictators
pales when compared with the tyranny of entrepreneurs.’”

“I don’t get it.”

“I didn’t either,
until now. Look at all those websites that offer gimmicks for free electricity,
there are millions of them, and each one gets thousands of hits or more every
day.” Phillip’s enthusiasm had escalated.

“Okay, but I still
don’t get it.” Carrie wasn’t quite as enthusiastic.

“People will try
just about anything to get free electricity. Even steal it from the phone
company to light a small lamp.”

“I get that part.
What about the tyranny.”

“Don’t you see?
The electric companies are the tyrants, and the phone companies. The
entrepreneurs.”

“I see what you
mean, but they’re not really tyrants. They haven’t killed or tortured anybody.”

“Maybe not, but
they have driven people to do extraordinary things.”

Carried stepped
out to check on the bookstore. When she came back, Phillip was surfing the web
with renewed vigor. There had to be a clue there somewhere. As she closed the
office door, her cell phone rang. The ringtone diverted Phillip’s attention
from the computer screen and caused Carrie to blush. Marvin Gaye crooned “Let’s
Get It On.”

“Hey, Baby. You
just wake up?” Carrie walked over to the other side of the office for some
privacy.

Phillip went back
to the computer, but strained to overhear her conversation.

After a few
minutes, she made her way back over to Phillip. “Okay, just relax and enjoy
your vacation, I’ll be home around six, we’ll do something fun for dinner. Love
you, Baby.”

Phillip didn’t
enjoy the mushy talk. “How about you ask “Baby” if he knows any mad scientists that
were obsessed with electricity.”

At first, Carrie
laughed, but then she must have figured why not? She activated the speaker on
her cell phone. “Hey Baby, I’m doing some research and I thought, since you
work at the Smithsonian, you might be able to help me. Do you know an inventor
who was a little crazy?”

“Carrie, that's
most inventors.”

“Oh, I guess
that’s true, what about someone who was obsessed with electricity?”

“Oh, sure, Tesla.”

“Who?”

“Nikola Tesla. The
Smithsonian ran an exhibit about him several years ago.”

“Is that Tesla
with one “s” or two?” Phillip sat ready to Google.

“Carrie, who’s
that?”

“Baby, that’s
Phillip. He’s helping with the research.”

“Oh, hey, Phillip.
It’s T-E-S-L-A”

“Thanks.”

“Thanks, Baby, see
you tonight.”

Google produced
more than two million results for Tesla. The inventor of Alternating Current
and the Tesla Coil, among others. The list was impressive. Tesla had also
invented wireless technology for remote controls and the technology for x-rays,
fluorescent lights, neon lights and much more. Phillip knew right then that his
grandfather’s friend was not a loon.

Phillip had spent yet
another sleepless night surfing the Internet. He absorbed whatever he could
find about Nikola Tesla, compliments of Google. He bored quickly with the
websites that offered simple chronological lists of Tesla’s accomplishments or
flimsy biographies. He wanted to know about the other Tesla, the man behind the
concepts he’d seen, the ones never built. At the top of his list was
Electrostatic Deuterium Oxide.

“Phillip
Washington, have you been up all night again.” His grandmother pushed the
bedroom door open.

“It’s okay,
Grandma, I don’t have to work today.” Phillip shut his laptop.

“What have you
been doing young man?”

“Just some
research.”

“What kind of
research?”

Phillip hesitated.
He could never lie to his grandmother. “Tesla research.”

“Who’s Tesla?”

“You
know---Grandpa’s friend.”

“That old kook
from The New Yorker?”

“Yes, but he
wasn’t a kook. He was a genius. I wish you hadn’t thrown away all his notes.”

“I’m sorry, but
you shouldn’t be wasting time on such nonsense.”

Phillip noticed
his grandmother’s labored breathing.

“If you need
something to research, try Brooklyn College. Find some classes you'll like.”

“But Grandma, we
can't afford it.”

“Don’t you tell me
what we can afford.” She steadied herself against the doorway.

“Okay Grandma,
I’ll check it out.”

As soon as she
left, Phillip went back to the Internet. He refined his search parameters to
ignore the standard historical information, Tesla accomplishments and patents.
Instead, he searched for personal information, public records, immigration
records, medical history, friends, relatives, and business associates. He tried
to find records and information about The New Yorker Hotel as well. Why would
the government seize Tesla’s belongings? There had to be a conspiracy there
somewhere.

Hours and hours of
Internet searches revealed Tesla never married or had children. His older
brother, Dane, died when Tesla was five-years-old. He had three sisters, one
older, Angelina, and two younger, Milka and Marica. Combined they gave him ten
nieces and nephews. One nephew founded the Tesla Memorial Society. Phillip
perused their website. Although well done, it contained the same
accomplishments and accolades he’d found on other websites, along with a brief
biography. Still, he bookmarked the site to review later.

Phillip glanced
down at his cell phone as it danced across the nightstand. The display had lit
up, “Barnes and Noble.” He hesitated, certain they wanted him to work. But he
was much too involved in his latest conspiracy theory. He scrambled to remember
the excuse he used the last time they called, not wanting to use the same
excuse. The cell phone still vibrating against the nightstand made for an awful
ringtone. He thought about the sexy ringtone Carrie had programmed for her
boyfriend. Somewhat jealous, he answered the phone anyway. “Hello.”

“Hi, Phillip, it’s
Carrie.”

“Hey, sorry, I
can’t work today. I have to clean my room.”

“Hey, it’s okay.
That’s not why I called. Last night, I told Buddy about the concept---

“Wait a minute.
Who’s Buddy?”

“You know, Buddy.
My boyfriend.”

“Your boyfriend’s
name is Buddy?”

“Yeah, I told you
that.”

“No, you didn’t,
but now I know why you call him ‘Baby’ all the time.”

“That’s not nice.
Anyway, I told Buddy how we thought the concept might be a nuclear bomb, and he
said we should call the Nuclear Regulatory Commission. Then I told him you
would never go for that since you think J.F.K. and Marilyn Monroe are still
humping on an island somewhere. He didn’t get it. So I told him you liked to
read books about conspiracies and you didn’t trust the government and he agrees
with you. He told me about a former C.I.A. agent he met at a strip club and I
asked what he was doing there, and he said the guy goes there a lot, and then I
said I wasn’t asking about the guy, I was asking about him, and that started
this big fight. Anyway, to make a long story short, Buddy thinks we should
contact the former C.I.A. agent.”

There was a long
pause.

“Phillip? Phillip?
Are you there?”

“Yeah, I’m here.
It just took me a minute to process everything you said."

“Sorry, I get
carried away sometimes. Should we call this guy?”

“Maybe, but I need
his full name first.”

“Why?”

“I’m gonna Google
him.”

Carrie said she'd
call back after work. “Buddy goes back to D.C. tomorrow, I’ll see if he can
arrange a meeting.”

Phillip thanked
her.

***

Other than a brief
trip to the kitchen and a couple to the bathroom, Phillip had stayed in bed
with his laptop all day. He didn’t notice his grandmother had returned from
work.

“Phillip dear, are
you okay? Why are you still in bed?”

“Oh, I’m fine,
Grandma.”

“What have you
been doing all day?”

Phillip hid the
laptop under the blankets.

“Did you check on
Brooklyn College?”

“Not yet.”

“Well then, that
means you’ve been researching Tesla all day.”

Embarrassed,
Phillip just nodded.

“Why’s he so
interesting?” Mavis leaned against the dresser.

“He was ahead of
his time, Grandma. He envisioned much of the technology we use today all the way
back then. He was smarter than Thomas Edison, just not as famous.”

“Phillip, the man
your grandfather knew couldn't come close to Thomas Edison. He was a kook that
spoke to pigeons and Martians.”

“That may be true,
but you know all those drawings he gave Grandpa? One of them was a nuclear
bomb.” Phillip knew he shouldn’t have said that. He didn’t want his grandmother
to worry any more than she already was.

“Oh dear, it’s
rubbing off on you. I want you to forget about this nonsense and get on with
your life. Go to college. Join the military. Find a nice girl and get married.
Something other than reading books.” She shouted as she walked down the hall to
her bedroom. “I’m not gonna be around much longer you know.”

The phone rang
before Phillip could dispute his grandmother’s statement.

It was Carrie. “Hi
Phillip, the man’s name is Rudy Valentino, obviously not his real name so don’t
bother with Google. Buddy doesn’t have his number; he'll have to contact him at
the strip club, how convenient. Another big fight since he's obviously been
there more than once, I’m talking about Buddy, not lover boy Valentino,
although he’s been there more than once, too. Anyway, Buddy says the only way
to contact him is at the strip club; but what if he's lying about being in the C.I.A.
the same way he’s fibbing about his name. On the other hand, he might be
fibbing about his name because he really was in the-C.I.A. Anyway, what do you
think? Should we go to D.C. to meet him?”

There was another
long pause. Phillip had heard and processed every word she said, he just
thought she should catch her breath before he replied. “I think it’s a good
idea. It'll give me a chance to get out of town for a day or two. Do you think
Baby---I mean Buddy would let me stay at his place?”

“I’m sure he
would, I’ll set it up for this weekend. I’ll have to get Friday off, but it
shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Why do you need
Friday off?”

“I’m going with
you, silly. I’ll drive.”

***

The subject of
Nikola Tesla didn’t come up at dinner that evening. Phillip had dressed in
jeans and a polo shirt, fancy attire for him. He devoured the fried pork chops,
mashed potatoes and creamed corn in a flash. “Thanks for dinner, Grandma. You
go relax. I’ll do the dishes tonight.”

“Thank you,
Sweetie, but let me help, you wash and I’ll dry.”

Phillip scraped
the plates and placed them in the hot soapy water. “Grandma, I know you want me
to finish school, but you already work too hard.”

“Sweetie we’ll find
a way, the government has grants and loans available.”

“Well, if you really
think I should go to college, maybe I’ll go with Rick to D.C. this weekend when
he visits Georgetown.”

“Georgetown! Now Sweetie,
don’t get carried away.”

“Oh, no, I’m just
going to see the campus with him.”

“I’m sure the
coeds have nothing to do with it.”

“Coeds? What’s a
coed?”

“Very funny. Just
be careful and you better visit Brooklyn College when you get back.”

Phillip placed the
last clean dish in the rack. Thanks grandma, I’m going to stop by Rick’s house
for a while. Goodnight.” Phillip grabbed his hat and cell phone and dashed out
the kitchen door, he felt bad that he misled his grandmother. Still, he didn’t
want her to worry. He called Carrie to plan their trip. “Hey Carrie, I can go
to D.C. Friday, what time do you want to leave?”

“Oh, okay, Phillip,
can we talk about this tomorrow at work? It’s Buddy’s last night in town.”

“Uh, sure, I’ll
see you tomorrow.”

Phillip went back
inside the house. His grandmother had made a cup of coffee and was staring at
one of the old photographs they had discovered in the attic. “That was quick.
You forget something?”

“No, Ma’am, Rick
has a lot of homework.”

“That’s too bad,
Sweetie, I’m sure he wants to get it done before the trip.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he
does.”

Mavis asked her
grandson to sit with her for a minute. “Sweetie, I have a confession to make.”

Phillip couldn’t
imagine what his grandmother wanted to confess. He tried to lighten up the
situation. “It’s okay Grandma, I already know. You really bought the pink
tricycle for me, right. And all those dolls are mine, too.”

“No, Phillip, I’m
serious. I threw those documents away for your own safety.”

“For my safety?”
The look on his grandmother’s face worried him.

“Yes, for your
safety. And that’s why I don’t want you researching Tesla anymore, either.”

“But, I don’t
understand. How is that unsafe?”

“I’m not sure,
Sweetie, all I know is that your grandfather was killed less than a month after
Tesla died.”

“Killed? I thought
he was hit by a car?”

“He was. Three
days after the O.S.S. men had finished interrogating him.”

Phillip’s jaw
dropped. “O.S.S.?” He’d never heard of them.

“Office of
Strategic Something-or-other, before the C.I.A. was around. They questioned
your grandfather for two days straight. They terrified us.”

“And you think
they killed him. The government?”

“Them or Tesla’s
nephew.”

“His nephew?”

“Yeah, the O.S.S.
men told your grandfather that Tesla’s nephew, Sava, belonged to the
Yugoslavian Communist Party. They left us strict orders to call the F.B.I.
right away if any foreigners came to the house.” She took a sip of coffee then
leaned closer to her grandson. “That’s why I threw all those documents away.”

Phillip didn't
speak. Did the U.S. Government really murder his grandfather? One thing was
certain. He had found his conspiracy.