Foothold: Where We Go From Here

By FTG Thornton

What started out as a small New Hampshire college town turns into the last foothold of mankind left in the Universe. This is the story of a group of college kids whose ingenuity both contribute to and save them from a man-made black hole. As the world descended into apocalyptic spiral these bold young adults find a way to not just save themselves, but the entire town with them. Alone and in possession of a unique technology, the last of our kind quickly find threats and hope lie around every corner.

Updated formatting and updated edition published regularly - Current Edition Published 02/05/2024 - Thanks for all the feedback.

• Language: English
• Publisher: FTG Thornton
• Release date: Feb 7, 2013
• ISBN: 9780988999022

FTG Thornton

FTG Thornton was born in Princeton, NJ and was raised in nearby West Windsor Township as the youngest of four wonderful children. However, you’re free to judge how wonderful they are for yourself. He has spent his adult life exploring the country by living everywhere from New Hampshire, Virginia, Georgia, and presently in Los Angeles, Ca. He spent five years as a stand-up comic but makes his living in Real Estate Investment and Business Development Training. He is responsible for the internet personality ‘Pope Fred’ since the year 2000. Please follow @PopeFred for updates from this insane little twitter account. You can also find some cool creative content at PopeFred.com You can also follow Siblinghood Print on twitter @Siblinghood.

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FOOTHOLD

FTG Thornton

© 2012 Frederick Thomas G. Thornton

Edition 3 / Updated Nov. 21, 2015

Siblinghood Print – L. A. / Atlanta

www.TheSibPrint.com

Table of Contents

Author’s Note

About the Author

01 Bust

02 Show

03 Back

04 Save

05 Boom

06 Find

07 Wake

08 Cold

09 Work

10 Time

11 Town

12 Them

13 Luck

14 Swim

15 Eyes

16 Thug

17 Snap

18 Ball

19 Dark

20 Raid

21 Ship

22 Wait

23 Then

Author’s Notes

Dedicated to:

Gerard M. Thornton

I am me because you made me better.

Sister Mary Shea

I saw the world because you laid it out before me.

About the Author:

FTG Thornton was born in Princeton, NJ and was raised in nearby West Windsor Township as the youngest of four wonderful children. However, you’re free to judge how wonderful they are for yourself. He has spent his adult life exploring the country by living everywhere from New Hampshire, Virginia, and Georgia to Los Angeles, CA where he presently lives. He spent five years as a stand-up comic but makes his living in Real Estate Investment and Business Development Training. He has been responsible for the internet personality ‘Pope Fred’ since the year 2000.

01

Each of us had been up to no good, but the sheer confluence of all of us getting caught at once just deepened our dread. The four of us sat submissively outside of the office of the President of Founding Fathers University. I could only imagine the worst as I silently prayed for some form of vindication behind those large mahogany doors.

Dr. Jan Ulrich was not a woman who often took meetings. She usually reserved her time for dignitary work, promoting the university’s most recent scholastic achievement, as well as meeting with planners to put the money she’d raked in through grants to work. She was, without question, the core of the university’s success since it had been founded more than twenty years before. She had taken the position with the university when she was only in her mid-thirties and had become legendary for her bravado. Each and every year, she made grandiose claims about what the university would accomplish, and her bravado was never unmatched by the results. She never stopped seeking out the best talent available and had brought Founding Fathers University to the level of a top-tier school in just my lifetime. It was a race, every year, to make sure that the school achieved everything she proclaimed.

As we awaited our fate, she was involved in the taping of a national press interview, for what could only be described as her greatest achievement to date. She had long said that Founding Fathers University would one day be the birthplace of nuclear fusion. I listened as President Jan Ulrich responded to the question posed by the legendary reporter, Priya Gupta.

Well Priya, when Dr. Longbow first approached me with what he thought was the solution to nuclear fusion; I was impressed that he had figured it out. When he told me that it was one of his fourth-year undergraduate students who had entered the design in the annual conceptual physics contest, I knew that our investment in education was paying off. She continued to gush about the accomplishment of Jarvis Haynes, super-student. Not only did I have to sit there in peril, but I was also forced to listen to the University President tell the national media about what a great intellect Jarvis was. I rolled my eyes and sighed as I leaned back…waiting. The four of us sat in silence.

Jarvis and I went way back. He had moved into my school at the beginning of seventh grade. But, by the start of eighth grade, he had developed a chip on his shoulder when it came to me. His family had moved around from place to place continuously. In fact, he had lived alone in his junior and senior years of high school, because his parents had moved to Louisiana. Even though his parents couldn’t seem to settle, Jarvis had a laser-style focus and worked doggedly to succeed, even if it meant breaking all the rules. He was a bit Machiavellian in that way. Despite my loathing, I gave the guy credit. His schematics for a nuclear fusion device were brilliant, and a smart move. I had doubts about its design, but I knew why he had won. He had tapped into the University President’s obsession. The sound of Jarvis’ voice interrupted my thoughts.

I’ve entered this contest every single year since I started here at Founding Fathers University, he gushed to the reporter. I quickly tuned out the rest of what he said. They sounded like puppets anyway. I wondered if maybe they were being fed their lines. The fact that Dr. Longbow hadn’t spoken a word would point to that. If they were smart, they wouldn’t let him talk at all.

Dr. Longbow was a genius born in the late 1970’s, and for a guy in his mid-fifties, he looked great. Maybe it was my blind perspective for age, but I had pegged him at thirty-seven or thirty-eight. He was notable because of his theory regarding nuclear fusion, which had been the first and closest attempt to solving the mystery. A few years before, when Dr. Ulrich had learned of his work at some esoteric public university in Michigan, she had immediately dispatched her headhunters and had brought him on staff. When Dr. Longbow did not deliver immediately, she had been forced to defend hiring him. She had stated at the time that nuclear fusion was a great mystery, and the solving of that great mystery could not be left on the shoulders of one man. Everyone knew that behind closed doors, the disappointment had colored a blossoming love between the two of them. No one knew how it had ended, but one day they had stopped showing up for lunch in the Oak Room and everyone knew they had stopped seeing each other in ‘that way.’

Each of the four years I was at the university, I too had entered the conceptual physics contest run by Dr. Longbow. I had done well enough on this, my fourth try, that Dr. Longbow had invited me to be the lab assistant to help construct the prototype. That was not the reward I had expected: the lowly job of a lab assistant. My ears perked up as Dr. Longbow’s voice drifted out of the office.

Jarvis is my top student. He’s truly grasping the cutting edge of concepts that may take the rest of the world eons to catch up with. All the Europeans can do is screw it up.

Dr. Ulrich quickly cuts in. What he means is; we’ve provided an example of work to the European Nuclear Commission in Switzerland. They are going to test our results and determine if this device and its concepts are legitimate.

The famous reporter responded quickly. Well Dr. Ulrich, considering FFU’s stellar track record, I would expect only the best from you and the university. I want to thank the people here at Founding Fathers University and the Student Media Coalition for making this interview possible. Doctor, Doctor, Jarvis… America thanks you for bringing us to the edge of another great discovery. As Priya Gupta finished, the bright lights flooding the doorway shut off. As the group said their goodbyes, the creaking of chairs and clicking of heels on the wood floors made my heart race. My thoughts quickly turned back to my current situation.

I looked to my right and from the looks on their faces, realized that my roommates hadn’t paid much attention to the theatre of the media filming inside the President’s office. It seemed that they were just trying to figure out how to explain away something that clearly had no reasonable explanation. I watched as Mike Shannon counted something on his fingers, and reached up to tap his ear, before remembering they had taken away his communicator. I was sure he wanted to use its calculator. He was so focused on money and numbers; he was probably trying to figure out the total cost of this situation. Mike had the most to lose. It wasn’t the first time his behavior had caused a referral to her office. I didn’t know anyone else who could have survived this long without being expelled, but Mike was known for pulling off miracles even when things looked as dark as they did right now.

I was beginning to get bored of Mike’s mathematical antics when I felt an elbow in my side. It was Thomas, and he was pointing toward our smallest roommate, Rune Jansen. We weren’t sure why he was here, except maybe guilt by association. However, he was clearly more ramped up and nervous about the current situation than we had expected. His short orange hair matched his bushy eyebrows, which cast a shadow over his closed eyes. His emotion was hidden but clearly unrested. Rune had shown up in my life in eighth grade. When we had started high school the following year, his parents had moved back to Denmark, leaving him on his own. I figured they weren’t so callous. There had to be a cousin or family member he could rely on. Everyone needed family, and Rune was a very empathetic soul. It was clear he was from good roots, despite their apparent absence.

Thomas had been my best friend for my entire life and this wasn’t the first time we had gotten into trouble together. He’d always been my playful comrade, often dictating our choice of a hobby until late in high school. We had fought publicly about why I didn’t want to do electronics anymore. I had implied that he was a robosexual, and he had made me out as some kind of technophobe. After a few minutes of hashing out the issue with words most people in the high school cafeteria didn’t understand, we had managed to captivate them all. They had all thought we were going to come to blows, even though our vocabulary and the concepts we were debating were so outside their frame of reference. But they had obviously been mesmerized by our tones of voice and the volume of our passionate argument. They were all just waiting for the first punch. When Thomas and I had reached an agreement that the mathematical nature of the universe was indeed comparable to the mathematical operation of robots, we were apparently the only ones who knew the fight was over. Most in the room thought that Thomas had just dissed me – and the crowd let out a taunting ‘oooh’ sound. Unwilling to disappoint the crowd, I had reached down to the school lunch in front of the student next to me and with one glorious motion, lifted it and sprayed the crowd around Thomas with the so-called food; something that slightly resembled mashed potatoes and Sloppy Joes. The crowd had instantly erupted, and I had been credited with starting the biggest food fight in the school’s history. We have punished accordingly and spent most of the night cleaning up the cafeteria. Thankfully the ‘food’ had dried quickly and had been easy to clean up.

But this time, we weren’t going to get away with just cleaning up the mess we had made. I mashed my hands together hard, hoping to release the stress building up in my muscles. I had been so focused on eavesdropping on the interview that I hadn’t spent a lick of time determining how I was going to explain myself to Dr. Ulrich and maybe even Dr. Longbow. I had a mix of indignation and guilt that would certainly make it hard to reply to their questions, once I decided on which crazy lie to stick with.

A Japanese man walked briskly out of the office, guiding a floating camera device in front of his face. He made extra effort to allow the generators on his inner thighs to pass by. Yoshi Takeo was Priya Gupta’s exclusive cameraman and one of the best. After all, one of the best reporters in the world deserved to have one of the best cameramen. He had invented a system of perpetual power for the camera when he had first met Priya. It had been their ability to maintain power and report straight through the Los Angeles earthquake that had brought them both such fame. Images of her reports from the beach in Santa Monica continued to haunt people. Her quiet confidence had shown through as the historic pier rolled over onto its side behind her. I had been home from school that day with the nasty stomach flu and had watched her walk across the city, interviewing people and showing the viewers the devastation. She had even climbed up the jagged ten-foot ridge that now ran down the center of Olympic Blvd. I had discovered true strength when I witnessed her arrival at the top of La Cienega Blvd, only to discover the whole of Sunset Blvd had been covered in the rubble that had once made up the mountainside above them. The sad pan over to the YW standing alone and crooked. They were the only two letters left of the iconic HOLLYWOOD sign; the sign that showed the world the importance of the movie and television capital of the world.

As I sat there remembering, Priya and her cameraman filmed a quick clip right in front of us before leaving. The doors to the President’s office were closed and time advanced, my nerves fraying to the core, along with everyone else’s. Rune’s bottom lip had disappeared beneath his upper teeth. He looked up at the ceiling and then checked his watch. He looked over at me, caught off guard that I was already staring at him.

Do you realize we’re running out of time? He tapped his watch. There are about thirty hours to go. We can’t be just sitting here like this. All three of us heard his words but were all clearly hit by a complete ignorance. I knew Thomas and his robot ‘Killagore McCrain’ were due to compete in the Regional Finals of the National Robotics Competition, and Rune was going to serve as the pilot of the robot, but that was later this afternoon, not thirty hours away. What in the world was Rune talking about? I decided not to ask, figuring it was just a bad translation. No one else seemed to want to know either as we returned to silence.

Finally, the office door was propped open, and Police Officer Matthew Luckt sauntered out. It was like he had some kind of cowboy fantasy. He kept his legs straight as he clobbered the floor and finally slipped his thumbs into his waist to complete the look. He took a protracted look at the four of us before giving us a lick of direction.

You boys sure have been up to some interesting things. You will be subject to the law, but given that you are students, we will allow the university to adjudicate first. Given the severity and quantity of activities at one place and time, the President has decided to see you herself. He gave a quick bob and strutted over to Mike Shannon. He leaned in precariously close to Mike’s face and smirked before waving us all into her office. We got up and headed inside. Officer Luckt impolitely stepped in front of Mike in a strange show of dominance. I had to stifle a laugh as Mike gave him a look as if the two of them were just sitting in traffic.

The last chair was being placed in front of the President’s desk as we entered the room. She had somehow found her way out while the door had been closed. She was nowhere to be seen. We sat down as Dr. Longbow chatted with Jarvis in the corner behind us. I could only hear the murmuring of their conversation; their hard consonants the only reward of my straining to hear them. Soon they were silent. Two more sets of feet stormed into the room before the door was closed. The four of us sat silently, focused on the empty chair at her desk while the other four people in the room continued to stand behind us silently, mocking us. Only Officer Luckt stepped forward to stare out of one of the windows, but he gave no clue to what was about to happen.

The room froze as the side door opened and the rush of a toilet was choked off as the door shut it out. Dr. Jan Ulrich emerged, clearly made up for a press event. Her hair was perfect, and her thin features amplified with make-up and a well thought