CostLess Cosmos

"They got more fighters out there, but you weren't a definite enemy, and you'd landed, so they couldn't do much. Did you see them when you were landed?"

"Heard some things, didn't see much."

"Well, lots of stuff was happening. We had to inform the Russian government, and NATO, and the Chinese. International agreements say, anytime someone launches, we have to notify them ahead of time, or it escalates tensions. Normally, we tell them we're doing tests, or they'll think we're launching on them."

"Oh."

"Your track didn't match anything when it was headed over the pole in a ballistic track, though it overflew Russia and they probably are going to yell at someone tomorrow. But, we, my whole national security team, lots of strategic level people, they were up all night. I'm afraid your house has been packed and shipped."

"Oh."... "I guess I kind of figured that might happen... but, it's faster than I thought it would be."

"Well, we had to be sure."

"And... Are you?"

"Not totally. I have a good feeling here, but... you're still largely an unknown quantity. We'll know more in a couple of days. This kind of stunt? Everyone who's ever known you is going to do interviews with the media. We'll find out a lot there, and by re-interviewing people later. They tell me, at least. They find out the most amazing details." His smile was still disarming. He exuded confidence. I could see why he was PM. "Do you have anything you'd like to mention now, get it out of the way? Anything particularly embarrassing? Let's just say, it's better to get that over early, versus later."

I laughed, "Wow. That escalated quickly. Uh... Let me think."

I did think for a moment. We were quiet. Finally, I said, "I broke into my high school when I was 18 and poured beer under the door of the Principal's office. That was... 8 years ago, though, I'm probably still liable. I'll make restitution if needed. Oh, and I've downloaded music and movies from online, that might be illegal, I could never be sure."

He laughed, guardedly, and said, "Okay, good enough."

I changed the subject. "Can we talk schedules? I'd like a shower and a change of clothes, and I didn't bring any." I looked at Ellen, who nodded, "Both of us, if we can. And, I'd like to meet with a Patent office person, asap. And, a nap, maybe. Or, at least a room to know I can lie down in for a while."

"What plans do you have for The Fenn?"

"I can move her, if you like, but I don't want her touched. There's some innovations I put in there I never wrote down, and I'd need to go over that with the patent clerk, or an attorney, I think."

"Indeed, she won't be touched, I already ordered that. First, we didn't know if your reactors would... "

"They're not explosive. Stimulated Negative Beta Decay. Makes some neutrinos, no real radiation, inert until I turn it on. No radioisotopes, at least, nothing more than Lithium-6 and Lithium-7, Beryllium-7. Common isotopes, no radiation, no worries."

"Ah." I was certain he had no idea what I was talking about.

"Sorry to bore you."

"Lithium. Negative beta decay...."

I waited for the Canadian version of 'aw-shucks', but instead, he said, "Negative Beta is neutron to proton and electron, plus antineutrino. You tap the kinetic from the electron ejection. That would make a lot of power."

I was pretty confused how he knew that, it had to have shown on my face.

"I got a quick education overnight after you made a remark about a 'lithium-6 reactor'. There were several theories about what you meant by that."

Ellen piped up and said, "Must have gotten you worried. Sorry about that."

Montclaire shook his head, "Comes with the job. Bit more excitement even than when we had the pandemic, at least that was a slow-burn. This was rush-rush, figure it out, what's he doing, where's he going, is this part of a group thing, what's his game, is he going to destroy anything, all that. Frankly, I'm so relieved you're just an eccentric inventor I could shout with glee." He caught himself and said, "No offense intended, of course."

I chuckled too, "None taken. Accurate." I took a last bite of pancake and put my napkin on my plate. A waiter started towards the table. I could tell we were being closely watched.

He motioned and called over to his aide, "When's Jean-Paul due here?"

"Waiting downstairs."

"Put him in a conference room, lunches, snacks, all that."

The aid finished walking up, writing on a pad as Montclaire talked. "Next. Get Mr. Rand and Ms. Clayton some counsel, ask Boswich who he respects. White-shoe, patent firm if you can, top-notch. This thing has to stick in US courts, too, if he doesn't win, we don't win. Oh, and have them find a PR team, outside, set it up. Make it VERY clear they work for Mr. Rand, NOT us."

The aide nodded, still writing.

"Low key, no other appointments for me or them today unless they want them, but start the ball rolling, get 'em over here in the next 2 hours or so, or later if Kevin wants. They can afford to wait until he's ready. Oh, and get some nuclear boffins from the U over here, and some of our boffins from IAEA or CNA, or some private folks, NDA's in effect. I want to vet what he's saying. No leaks -- good people, got it?"

Ellen said, "Is there a gift shop...?"

Mr. Montclaire blinked, squinted, then got a nod and smile on and said, "Oh, right! Clothes, several days for each of them, top to bottom, shoes, dress suits, undergarments, everything. Conservative office-casual, some work clothes, maybe, other stuff, different types. Contingency fund that or bill to the room and get the lawyers to pay. Oh, and get them some burner phones. Redirect and tap their old phones. No taps on the new ones, got it? Old ones, crazy people are going to do all kinds of stuff, gotta intercept that."

The aide was making written notes. "Got it."

"Rooms? They'll probably want separate but adjoining somehow?"

He knew that one, "Down one floor, presidential suite, multiple bedrooms, lockable doors, full security."

Montclaire continued, handling things for us (I was happy to let him). "Good. And, start moving people out of this hotel, if you would. National Security, rebook and make sure they're not on the hook for anything, we can't lose these people or have an incident."

While the aide was writing, he turned to us and asked, "We were spitballing that we could put her in a hangar at the airport, if you like."

I squinted and looked out the window, down at the Fenn with all the people around her. "I think the City of Ottawa and the Tourism Board of Canada are getting pretty good visuals for now. I like her being away from crowds, but... I don't want to worry about spy agency stuff. Out in the open is easier to validate for everyone."

"Understood."

We stood up. I noticed a bunch of other people stood up, too. I wondered if it was a being-the-PM-thing, like standing when the President or a King is around.

As we walked, Ellen called over to our server and said, "Great food! Thank you!"

"My honor, ma'am. Glad to be here. Glad you're... uh, yeah... Thank you."

We smiled. I could tell he was nervous. He looked like he was in high school, but it was mid-morning, so that was unlikely. Probably an undergrad somewhere close.

The aide had dialed his phone and said, "Need clothes for both vips. Biz-caszh, polos and dress shirts, underwear, sweats, all that. Send to the suite.... Yeah, hold one."

We were getting near the elevator bank. The aid asked for and got our pants and shoe sizes, asked and got various sizes for Ellen. I was marginally interested to hear she was a 36-C.

We gave them, and he said it'd be ready in 15 minutes or so, then stood back.

Montclaire held out his hand, our meeting was over. "I have a busy day ahead. I'll probably have to do a brief press thing. Do you want me to pass along any message? If not, I can suggest one."

I had nothing, and Ellen shrugged.

He continued, "Okay, how about - I say, you're both tired from being up all night with the flight; we had a friendly lunch; you're going to separate rooms to freshen up; they're going to work on the patent details later... Oh, and let's just say the earliest they could be available for press interviews is tomorrow afternoon, but that's not firm. Okay with you?"

We nodded. I glanced at Ellen and squinted with some consideration. "I'm okay with that, but... I'm concerned, I want Ellen's to be seen primarily as a capable engineer. The fact that she's female, sure, but my choice was based on practical considerations. I wanted a smart, highly capable person, it's cramped quarters in that cockpit, so a female one. That's why I chose her." I looked back at Ellen, "You okay with that?"

"Sure... Actually, thank you! I had a blast. Beyond fun. Cool tech, too."

Montclaire nodded, "Got that. I'm going to limit my comments to pretty broad generalities, I don't want to offend people, this is a celebration of being Canadian today. Oh... One more thing. Officially."

My eyebrows went up a little as he straightened. There were serving staff within earshot of his louder voice.

"Mr. Rand. Ms. Clayton. On behalf of the Canadian people, thank you for honoring us by choosing to take off from, and land here, and respecting the institutions of our government to safeguard your intellectual property and physical safety." He shook our hands and we returned the handshakes with smiles.

More quietly, he said, "You'll meet with some patent attorneys, maybe, an hour? Two? I'll have the names and info put in with the clothes we drop off. Your PR people will be around later this afternoon, too. As one famous person to another, I suggest, Use Them. Generally, don't give interviews to the press, EVER, without some really good coaching. Guard everything you say, don't wing-it. If you remember nothing else: Keep your privacy as much as you can, you can't get it back once it's gone."

Ellen and I looked at each other and nodded, thanked him, and we split to talk with the aide while he took one elevator and we went with the aide on another.

Chapter: Presidential Suite

The Presidential Suite was a giant apartment. The living room was big enough for 100 people; attached was an open-concept kitchen/bar, a TV lounge area, verandas on all sides, and two side hallways leading to separate sets of bedrooms.

We were led there by the aide, but a bellhop / assistant manager was waiting by the door. We all walked in, and got a quick tour. The bellhop showed us rooms on opposite sides of the main living area, different wings, and pointed to the solid-steel doors to those hallways. Those were there, he said, because heads of state sometimes stayed there and they needed a safe refuge.

Ellen and I kind of laughed about that, we weren't a danger to each other, I was pretty sure.

The manager also pointed to a wall safe and said that if either of us was carrying concealed firearms, which aren't necessarily legal in Canada, that we could leave them there and they would not be questioned or bothered, they dealt with that a lot and had an agreement with the RCMP in the don't-ask-don't-tell category.

I laughed at first, but he was earnest, so we moved on.

The heavily-inlaid burled maple piano in a padded-wall room off the main room said, 'Bosendorfer'. It wasn't a brand I'd heard of, but the luster off the wood made it incredibly lustrous and expensive looking, at least. A large, ornate wooden filing cabinet next to it had an ornate plaque saying, 'Sheet Music', and probably had enough music to not concern finding anything recent. This really was nice. I hadn't played since high school (10 years of lessons, dropped in favor of physics and engineering), but I did decide I wanted to try it out later.

Just about then, an older lady came in holding two medium-sized soft-side gym bags, one red and one blue, and handed the blue one to me. "Clothes and toiletries, compliments of the manager."

We thanked her and she left. I had no money to tip her, maybe a little in my wallet but somehow, I got the feeling it wasn't expected.

I stank.

I wanted to fix that.

Ellen and I excused ourselves and headed to our respective rooms down opposite hallways. The bathroom in the master-suite was giant -- a sunken tub already filled and humming like a jacuzzi, shower big enough for 6, it was all very posh.

Suffice to say, cleanth occurred.

=== ===

Showered, shaved, and changed into clean clothes, I came back in the main room to find the aide at the dining room table with a laptop, chatting on a headset. Obviously he was on a videoconference. He put it on speakerphone, motioned me to sit next to him.

Suddenly I was talking with 4 new people.

After prompting, each gave a short history of their law firm, where they had offices, what patent experience they had, how usually charged for their services, and what they could bring as a unique skillset to my casework. A timer clicked down on the screen, and each finished in under 2 minutes.

I had a decision to make, between the firms. All were evenly matched, some larger than others. I told them I'd make my decision soon, and thanked them for their presentation.

The aide obviously thought I'd answer immediately, but he shut the video connection.

I had to have a way of confirming if this was a giant con job or not. I didn't get that vibe, but I knew how much money would be involved.

I asked for, and got, a phone call with one person I knew I could trust -- a former crown prosecutor who had been famous in the news for prosecuting an anti-corruption cases when I had been an undergraduate. For some reason, I remembered their name, and the aide managed to get a phone number and call set up in quick order. Of course, he had a staff, and they had a big "rolodex", so to speak.

About this time Ellen came in and sat down (at a distance, the room was huge), turning on the TV and seeing news coverage of what was happening. Various science talking heads were speculating on how my engines worked, trying to explain MHD drives, etc.

The person I'd asked for answered the phone and I recognized his voice from TV interviews, at least it sounded like him. The aide described what was happening, that I wanted general legal advice as to who might be the best firm to represent me in a patent matter. He hemmed and hawed about how he couldn't say anything against various people.

I interrupted, "Sorry, I reached out, and I know you to be a reputable person. I am faced with a decision about finding representation for a patent claim, and I'm wondering, as a private citizen, if you have formed a general opinion about the relative quality of services available from firms in Ottawa that do this kind of thing."

"You won't quote me on this?"

"I can say as little or as much as you want. I could be talking to a ground squirrel right now, as far as my memory of this call, if you like."

He laughed and said, "Fine. If you're really pressed, you can say you talked with me. I'm not going to say anything disparaging about anyone, though."

Caveats in place, I asked for the names of the firms he'd choose, in order, and he listed off ten, quickly, and all 4 of the firms I'd spoken to were on the list.

I thanked him, got some congrats from him, and I told the aide my choice was Owens since I'd liked their presentation the best and they were higher on the list the prosecutor had given me.

The aide texted someone and said, "Done. They'll be right up, along with the Patent Commissioner."

"Uh... that fast?"

"Those calls were from downstairs. The Patent Commissioner is in the restaurant upstairs, he'll be here in a minute."

Sure enough, a knock on the door a moment later. A security guard outside the door let in Patent Commissioner Dan Silver and four of his assistants, and soon after that, my new attorney, Jason Hancock. We all went into a side conference room and shut the door.

What followed was somewhat surreal. I had to sign some forms for my attorney and hand him one dollar in cash, witnessed by Ellen (called in for this purpose and then allowed to leave) and the aide, and they signed the bottom as witnesses.

Once that was done, I signed some papers for the patent clerks, and we were all obliged properly to keep things secret.

The assistants, apparently, were experts in nuclear physics and electromagnetic devices, etc. I didn't doubt they'd dropped everything to be there asap when called. One guy had different colored socks and a suit coat over a polo that he quickly shed.

My reveal was just bringing up my GitHub account, decrypting my lab notes and engineering diagrams, and git-cloning it to the attorney's laptops. It really helped that I'd added the feature to the account that blockchain-signed each encrypted commit as proof that I really had done things on the dates I was saying I'd done them.

The look on both the patent attorneys', and the commissioner-expert's faces, was almost gleeful. The huge deal for them was excluding prior art, establishing proof of timing, etc., and I'd solved their problems ahead of time. Of course, I wasn't stupid, when I'd originally sought a patent years before, I'd been told what kinds of artifacts were vital to defending a patent.

That was before I found I'd need to give prototypes and gave up to do a reduced-scope as my master's. The process then had been educational, at least.

As I walked them through it, it got more obvious that I was outside the bounds of knowledge of 3 of the 4 professors on nuclear decay, and I had to refer back to some papers I'd written but not submitted to journals because doing so would have led everyone else into the same direction that I went.

Using precisely aligned jacketed beams of electrons and protons as a field to distort the alignment of nucleons had been tried, but my equations for combining that with ultrashort laser pulses at exactly the right frequency to wiggle-quantize the groups and push tuned x-rays into driving the decay? That wasn't something they'd figured was even possible.

The MHD drive was simpler to explain, being just engineering innovations and far less pure science. The expert said there were two foundational patents in it that could go anywhere. They'd definitely be money-makers, but compared to the electrical output of the reactor, it was chump change. Electrical power was a global game changer.

I'd read up, during my undergrad years, about how to write patent applications, and I'd prepared what I suspected was unique already. It turned out a couple of my "applications" were useless because there were already patents for those ideas. But, the rest were!

Jason said, "These are good to go, if you agree?"

Dan's guys read through them, agreed, and we filed electronically, sitting at the table, attaching my notes to the documents as proof of work-effort.

We shook hands with the Commissioner and his people, took some photos "for their families", and they left. Jason and I talked over my aircraft-piloting legal exposure and he agreed I could be fined and have my pilot's license revoked, and possibly could face a year in jail for falsely identifying myself, it would be up to the crown prosecutor, but as a first-offender and with a good excuse (not to mention great publicity), it was highly likely to be a fine and some recertification courses to regain privileges (if I lost them).

Jason had a lady nearby from a PR firm they'd worked with. He said it would be good to get in practice for interviews, so when the PR person arrived, Ellen and I would get some explanations about how famous people usually interacted with the public, etc.

== ==

The aide, Dave, left about 5 pm, about 10 minutes after my attorney, Jason, and his PR lady, Dana, had cleared out. They would return at 8 am to further prep us for the news conference. We were hungry since we were on west coast time and 5 pm felt like 8.