Project Wim - End Game

By John Rojewski

It was a challenge, but from a series of disappointments and rejections this man continued on a quest for something worth living for. He tried commercial success and found antagonists and adversaries that made the attempt challenging and unfulfilling.

He retired to a sullen and dismal life as a laborer in places of desolation and discarded materials, trash heaps of dreams and empty promises. And then, with a single telephone call and reconnection to the one his heart desired, everything changed!

See what can motivate a man to return to a path of challenge and risk taking once he discovers that the world can be made over again, and that he has the knowledge to change things, if only he believes.

Project WIM – End Game, the third book in the series, is about the journey that once started, cannot be redirected, or ignored. The journey that takes control of the man is the one by which he is forever remembered and judged.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Feb 23, 2022
• ISBN: 9781669813026

John Rojewski

John Rojewski was born in Nebraska and moved to Arizona after his graduation from the University of Nebraska at Lincoln. Following his occupational training, he pursued a career in Information Technology. Beyond his career aspirations, John has associations/certifications and experience as a private pilot, scuba diver, USA Swimming official, information security professional, an Eagle Scout, and is now a published author. John is married, with a daughter and grandchildren and enjoys science fiction, singing, playing bass guitar, and traveling regionally and abroad.

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COPYRIGHT © 2022 BY JOHN ROJEWSKI.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 02/22/2022

Xlibris

844-714-8691

www.Xlibris.com

837087

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

OVERVIEW

LIFE – AS IT SHOULD BE

The Connection

Back to Work

Changing Routines

Device Developments

The Meeting

The Proposal

Special Gifts

The Planning

Best Man?

The Honeymoon

EXPOSURE – To the World

Unplanned Interview

More News

The Skirmish

Seeking Wise Counsel

Onsite Investigation

THE EVENT

The Rehearsal

Out West Again

Band Practice

Cave Cleaning 101

The Performance

Returning East

RANSOM

The Briefing

The Second Request

Waiting

In Memoriam

REGRETS

DARKNESS – The Reaction

Intervention

Cognitive Distortions

Solitary Times

Into the Void

Mirror, Mirror

String Theory

NO!

Antimatter

Relativity

REVENGE – The Mission

Preparation

The Test Team

Live Testing

Life Testing

Essential Enhancements

The Big Guns

Demolition Incorporated

Man Versus World

Patriotism, Showmanship, or …

Notifications

Deployment

Debriefing

Insights

EDITORIAL ADDITIONS

The News Reports

Additional Access to Material

Audio and Video Transcripts

Additional Commentary on Audio/Video

Additional Discussions from the Team

Discovery and Aftermath

ADDITIONAL THOUGHTS

More Deep Questions

Turn, Turn, Turn

EPILOGUE

APPENDIX

A. Character Review

B. Fundamental Principles

C. Scenes and Locations

D. Glossary

ENDNOTES

PROLOGUE

This is possibly the last you may hear from me for a while as I undertake a new life focus, my life with Angie. This will be a journey to a new land far away from my present situation. I have not been to this place before and could not have found this destination by myself.

Yes, I have had … assistance in making this transition and will use all my resources to see that this journey is worthwhile to the lives involved.

Since I have been the mystery man in previous times I will attempt to fully explain the situation in which I now find myself, but I may be a bit vague in some areas, so please bear with me.

Editorial Note:

Some of the author’s notes have been enhanced to improve readability. These additions have been provided free of charge as a consideration to the author, his family, and friends.

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OVERVIEW

I was moving through the cycle that had been established earlier in my life when I established Principles and Goals for myself to accomplish. Somehow, I believed that if I conducted myself in ethical and approved patterns of behavior I would be rewarded and recognized for my contributions, etc.

But apparently, I frightened some people and they decided that to reward me would only encourage me to continue in practices that were so innovative and different that I would threaten the existing technical and social infrastructure to the point of having it all unravel into a pile of factions that could not work together.

I happened to fear that they were correct, because I have always known that people were the most fragile part of the equation. So, while I regretted the way I had been shunned, I continued to make inroads into the ideas that would spawn new technical innovation and would, at some time when humanity was less fearful, help to propel us into a world where some of the basics could be provided literally free of cost to the millions that now clamored for a mere drink of clean water.

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LIFE – AS IT SHOULD BE

With the successful adoption of the MMTs (Matter - Matter Transformers) in various locations across the states I was successfully converting tons of rocks and trash into valuable commodity items. Although I had only been active in the transformation process for a bit more than a year, I had successfully accumulated over a hundred million dollars in sales of precious metals and other valuable items. While my attempt at creating gemstones had not been entirely successful, I was still working on that process.

Despite the activities that kept me busy traveling to my MMTs on a regular basis, I was again turning to focus on the one single item in the universe that I did not and could not seem to possess. Angie!

It was while I was in one of my lesser explored caves in western Colorado that I decided to take a short sabbatical from my journeys to contact my love and make a proposal.

Actually, the concept of a proposal was exactly what I had wanted for some time now. I wanted someone to share a life with me. To be close when I needed reassurance that life was really worth living.

I had spent so many years hiding who I was and what I had discovered. I wanted to stop hiding and start living. To start my life afresh with her!

Of course, as soon as I considered a proposal, I feared that she might have moved on in her expectations. She might actually be involved with someone else! How I would deal with this fear was a challenge, and even as I drove to the site, I found my patience dissolving like ice cubes on a hot summer day. By the time I reached my destination and turned onto the steep gravel road I was nearly frantic with concerns:

– How best to reengage with her?

– How to ask the question?

– How to offload my other responsibilities so that I could be with her?

I had attempted to follow her suggestions in slowing our reconnection so that it would not arouse significant suspicion from her associates and related press correspondents in the Washington D.C. area. One of the attempts I considered was to enroll in some musical sharing services. This would allow me to introduce songs to her without any direct contact.

Essentially the sharing platform, known as Melodic, would contact her with a message that a ‘friend’ had purchased a particular song for her, and that she could listen on her digital device when she chose. I selected several songs, one of which I felt to be so perfect I could not resist. The Turtles song, You Know What I Mean¹ was perfect for this subtle invitation. I tried another similar song from The Turtles as well. The price was right, and the music was great!

So many distractions flooded over me that I almost failed to hit the brakes to avoid the large steel gate that blocked the entrance into my first mine.

This location, nicknamed Ol’ Silver, was like many I had purchased in my deceptive placement phase over a year earlier. This one had verified claims of producing some silver and other metals but was and had been vacated since late in 1903 when the owner’s descendants had left the region.

And now it was producing silver again, although much more abundantly than historically documented and with much less labor and processing. In fact, this mine had only a single miner that arrived every four to six weeks to chip out some new rock fragments to drop into a hopper and to empty some trays of neatly stacked cubes that shimmered in the synthetic white light within the cavern.

I am very certain the previous owner(s) would have been willing to share this experience with me. It being much simpler than the backbreaking toil and intense heat from the smelting process of past days in this secluded and isolated location.

So, I chipped away at the rocks for about fifteen minutes, enough to work up a sweat and to build an adrenaline rush to bolster my confidence to contact Angie with an offer I hoped she could not and would not refuse.

The nearby shovel provided an easy way to load the hopper to a sufficient level for another six to eight weeks, in the case that I did not return immediately to my regular schedule.

Then sliding out the trays on the conveyor belt near the bottom of the MMT, I replaced them with half a dozen empty ones and carried the originals out to the truck. As I turned off the light switch and closed the makeshift looking wooden door to obscure the interior workings, I attempted to continue providing a look of abandonment to any curious individual that might be exploring in the area.

With the trays of perfectly formed solid silver cubes securely fastened inside the vehicle it was time to travel to my next property to retrieve more assets to offer for sale to prospective buyers.

Pulling out of the area and up the slope, I closed and locked the gate behind me. While the old mine was designed to look old and abandoned, the gate was designed to look very official and had legalese words on it. That seemed to be more discouraging and frightening to people today than the more traditional steer carcasses and rattlesnake fangs and skins. I had even placed a warning sign relating to the road quality, noting Severe Tire Damage may result ... which set any further travel at an even higher perceived risk.

While on the road I considered how I should best contact her and how I would need to move slowly to avoid a misperception on her part. (Yes, I am back thinking about Angie again …) She already knew much of the turmoil in my life, and perhaps she would not think moving closer to be … tolerable. While I had been certain of my feelings for her since we met at the Liberty Power Facility during and after the Tour, I was not certain that her feelings for me remained as solid and unswerving until I received her letter in the blue envelope. That letter had changed everything!

My next stop was only about thirty miles away but took several hours due to the sparsity and conditions of the roads. Everything at Golden Age was as I expected, and within an hour of arriving I had ‘harvested’ two trays each containing around 60 one-inch cubes of 24-carat gold. Although the material was pure enough to have received the standard 24-carat designation, I did verify that my tagging process was working and that as I removed the trays on the completed end of the conveyor and replaced them with some empty trays on the start end, my MMT was actively computing the matrix of elemental lead (Pb) that would be placed into the cube to uniquely identify the product, production time, date, and location for later verification. I had chosen lead due to its well-established internal stability. The process of tagging would be helpful in a variety of brand and quality control checks if at some time those were needed.

I can explain, because not many people get the opportunity to carry sixty-some cubic inches of gold, that the trays were heavy. And in those circumstances, it is always a good idea to have no rocks, pebbles, cracks, inclines or declines in the floor you are traversing. Unfortunately, I did not have that luxury.

I did, however, have experience and a rather good sense of balance. So, in the next several minutes I succeeded in carrying about 84 pounds of pure gold out of another non-producing mine that had been available for sale for nearly two decades before I made a modest offer of $45,000 for the title. The husband and wife accepted the offer the following day.

I only mention this to confirm in your minds the value of 84 pounds (about 1344 ounces) of gold at the rate of around $1775 per ounce, and the comparatively minimal cost of purchasing the mine as a legitimate cover.

I had another mine in this area, but it was near the end of the day, and I typically brought my collection to a large precious metals warehouse in the Golden, Colorado area. They were accommodating and were highly rated by several organization for compliance and excellent business practices.

They had performed due diligence checks on me as well as the mines I reported as the sources of the metals, and an analysis of several of the samples I had brought in. As I previously confirmed the trace of lead (<10 PPM) was detectable in both the silver and gold but was explained as an anomaly in the smelting process and was not in quantities sufficient to downgrade the purity levels.

Consequently, whenever I called that I had another shipment, there were always several staff members there to assure that one of their best suppliers was treated well. I arrived at the gate, pulled into the dock, displayed, counted, weighed, transferred the cargo, and received a receipt for the funds to be transferred that night to my bank account.

After checking the tally (gold and silver cubes) I said good evening and let them know I would be around the next day with some more product.

Excellent, Mr. Jameson, responded the dock supervisor, We will be looking for you tomorrow. Have a good evening in Golden.

I thanked him and made a mental note to write a confirmation to the CFO for the excellent service I received on this date. I generally found that such an approach produced several gains for all parties:

1. The employees were recognized for superior service,

2. The employees were generally compensated for this,

3. The executives would see the value of perceived service,

4. Employees would see others receiving additional compensation for superior service and replicate that behavior,

5. Sometimes the first contact would receive additional recognition for being a customer facing representative,

6. When all these things occurred, the customer would receive the benefit, and sometimes the confirming customer (me) would also receive additional benefits.

The dock supervisor signaled to the security gate officer that I was coming with no outbound cargo. This just helped to make the vehicle search time shorter. Once cleared at the gate, I started the 25-minute drive to the motel.

The Rocky Acres Motel was not part of a national chain and was the local investment of a family that had helped in building the city during its early years in the late 1800s. I had stayed overnight at The Rocky many times and had generally nothing to do except eat and sleep.

But tonight, I had a different agenda. She was on my mind, and whenever that occurred, I generally had no other option than to focus completely on her. This was because I could not focus on anything else if she were there.

The motel had the old telephones with the hard line and the coil cord. It was for local calls, and long-distance calls were an additional charge added to the bill at checkout. But after having just received a sizable sum from the precious metals broker, I felt I could afford a $2 long distance surcharge. Additionally, this number was not linked to me in any way, so there would be no automatic checking or indication of contact between us.

As you may recall, this concern that she had voiced earlier in our first meetings was a reason for us not communicating; for us to stay apart and generally aloof. But since my fall into obscurity, there was little reason for me to remain separated from her, unless that had become her true desire. In that case I would choose to become either a pursuant of her or add my name to the list of sorrowful victims of that sad infirmity known as unrequited love. So sad and so debilitating!

So rather than just accept the position of being a victim, I chose to dial her personal number and become a surprise for her this evening. The connection was initiated, and I heard the clicking as the simulated ringing occurred on the other end. But when there was no answer, I was forwarded to her voice mail.

Hello, this is Virginia Lee, came her wonderful voice across the distance of hundreds of miles. Despite the coolness of the Colorado evening, I immediately felt warmer. Thank you for calling. Unfortunately, I am not able to answer your call at this time, but please leave a message and I will return your call as soon as possible.

Then the unmistakable beep, requesting me or any caller to state the reason for the call, announced that it was my turn to warm her heart. I had not prepared a prerecorded response to match hers, so I needed to make the spark happen.

Good evening, Ms. Lee, I started, ignoring the disappointment of not being able to talk with her directly, It is so nice of you to thank me for this call and for being willing to return the offer at a more convenient time. You may not remember me, but we had some interesting discussions in the past and I would like to continue to get to know you better in the coming months and years. So, just give me a call. This is Marc, and just so you know, whenever I see or hear about chicken salad sandwiches, I always think of you! I hope you have listened to the music I sent you and hope to talk to you soon. Bye.

It was all I could do to avoid adding the final word, Angie, at the end of the recording, but with nothing more to say I pushed the button to hang up and placed the handset back down on the bedside table phone.

It might be minutes or hours, or even longer before that telephone would ring with her voice to greet me. So, I took the opportunity to walk across the street to the locally owned Dinner Diner I had frequented many times in my past visits here.

Although I was not a resident, my face was recognized by some of the staff and I received the welcome of a lost family member as the waitress, Sally Mae, invited me to sit up at the counter with her.

Has it already been another month Mr. Jameson? she asked. I just can’t believe that you are back so soon!

It has been almost five weeks, Sally Mae! I laughed, recognizing that while the diner was not excessively busy tonight, she appeared to be the only one working the floor.

Well, it is good to see you again, and tonight I treat you. Anything you need, you just let me know.

I had been a big tipper since I started coming here for dinner, especially after the big harvests now that I had multiple mines ‘producing’ for me here in the area. I think I had gradually increased those tips to around $100 a visit and Sally Mae was one of the benefactors.

I think the chicken with mashed potatoes and gravy would taste just right tonight, Sally Mae, I responded.

The evening continued, and I talked while Sally Mae listened. I emoted and then provided another tip for Sally Mae and the cook, Fran.

Thanks for stopping by Mr. Jameson, she called, we will see you in another month!

I walked back across the street and prepared for the quiet evening. Although I wanted to hear from Angie, the call did not come, and I went to sleep that night thinking, and dreaming, of her.

When I awoke, I was already planning the journey to my next property to harvest the results of my most productive MMT. I mention most productive because not only did it produce higher quantities of metals but was in the location where I could effectively justify it producing some of the most valuable of precious metals: platinum and gold.

The Connection

I was nearly ready to leave when the room phone rang, and I walked over to pick it up.

Hello, I said, this is Marc.

Hello Marc, came the sound of her long absent voice, I am so glad you called last night. I was … out and didn’t get a chance to check my messages until this morning.

Well, I am very happy that you did check and chose to respond when you did. I was just about to go to work when you called, and then I would have missed this opportunity to re-connect.

Re-connecting would be a marvelous thing, Marc, she replied, not sounding concerned or defensive in her response. This is an unusual area code. Where are you?

Colorado, Denver area, I replied, recognizing that it had indeed been some time since we had talked.

Oh! she responded, sounding as if she were surprised by my statement. You didn’t move, did you?

No, just checking on my property out here, I replied.

Oh, well good, she replied, appearing to be more confused and just a bit more motivated in her attempt to re-connect with me. I just thought that it would be nice to talk with you, but now I’m thinking it would be even nicer to see you … again.

That sounds like an invitation Ms. Lee, I said not certain if there was still an active moratorium on any personal communications between us.

Oh, please consider it as an invitation, Mr. Jameson, she replied with a breathy voice that pulled me into a much more animated conversation than I had excepted. I would really like to see you again and would like to continue what we started … if that is still a possibility.

You could have knocked me over with a feather! Surely this was the re-incarnation of the Angie I met during the Liberty Power Tour now well over two years ago. She had warned me of the danger of our communications and had strictly forbidden any visible connection between us. But my heart, stubborn as it is, would not allow her to escape, would not provide an exit strategy, would not allow any option other than to surrender to her, and to wait patiently for her heart to align itself with mine. Now, surprisingly as it was, that alignment was apparently happening.

There is nothing that would please me more than to see you and continue in our … I knew the word I wanted to use, but somehow, after all this time it seemed too provocative and too soon. ... our friendship, I finished.

A friendship would be wonderful, Marc, she responded in that breathy Angie voice, something I had not heard in a long time. But I am thinking about a relationship, one that would be a dream come true!

I was suddenly checking that I was not asleep and dreaming, and quickly kicked the bedside table, and it did not hurt a bit! Of course, I was wearing my boots for the working in the mine, so that was at least a confirmation of some sense of reality.

Has something changed that I should know about, Angie? I asked, recognizing that I had just transgressed the line of separation and misdirection I had intended to maintain in my anonymity if someone else were listening to this call.

You are officially off the list, Marc! she responded with a certain amount of muffled emotion. The DOJ released the list on Tuesday, and you are no longer considered to be someone requiring or necessitating active or passive surveillance. Its’ over! I can freely talk and meet with you without reporting my activities and without threat of being a lightning rod for anyone still looking for retaliation against you for your previous record or actions.

I knew that I had not received any threatening or warning communications in several months but had not anticipated that the government would actually move on to other areas and other conflicts.

So, I can call you whenever I want? I asked, not fully absorbing the entire scope of her revelation. And I don’t have to leave obscure references to who I am to avoid getting us both in trouble with the Departments?

Yes, she laughed. You can call, text, email write letters, travel to see me, or me travel to see you. We can meet in public places and be seen by hundreds or even thousands of people, and … we can also meet in private where we don’t have to explain why or what we were doing or planning to do. Interested?

I did not know if her words were leading me to enjoin with her in an innuendo that I had long envisioned or were just an expression of the enablement she felt to fully set expectations on what types of days and nights I (we) could experience when I decided to meet with her again. At least until her final query – Interested?

Well, that does sound like a much better position than we have had before, I responded, attempting to avoid an immersion that would emotionally paralyze me until I saw here again. I have some activities today and will be back in the Dump in a couple of days. I could arrange to meet you in D.C. next Friday for the weekend if you are available.

Oh, Marc, she breathed, that would be wonderful, and you can call or text me anytime on my cell. Oh, I need to get on the subway soon to get to work. Can’t wait to see you Marc, she said.

Welcome back into my life Angie, I replied, I have missed you so much.

I’m so happy you called, Marc. Got to go! I … I love you! And then the connection dropped as she ended the call, and I heard the infamous dial tone.

I could now positively predict by 7AM that today was going to be a great day! I had already started in a very productive direction.

Back to Work

I checked out of the motel, letting the desk clerk know that everything was good and that I expected to be back in a month or so. The truck responded to the starter as anticipated and got me on the road to the nearest fast-food place where I purchased both a hot breakfast and something for a lukewarm lunch at the mine-head.

While the trip required most of the day, I expected to collect the harvest again and fly out shortly after sunset. That itinerary would get me back to the Dump shortly before midnight. Since I had made this trip several times, I had a good sense of what to expect and generally found everything quite favorable as I cruised up the slopes to the branch road that would take me to my next and final mine in this area. I had some important work to do today, to get even more of the materials I was attempting to legitimately hide from a variety of people and organizations that would claim part of the benefits I was accruing.

No problem on the mine itself. I had paid the registration fees in full, and because I had no employees there were minimal inspections required. Thus, I had the latitude to establish my own schedule for arrival and departure, and more importantly, transportation of the materials discovered on the premises with minimal inspection, evaluation of quality, or other criteria.

What did provide the traceability of the minerals was the receipt I received upon sale of the goods to my distributor. Since they were well established and additionally well regulated, and we had established a relationship beyond the introductory first year, I was now in a position of being one of the many mine owners that continued to make a living by digging holes in the ground.

As I was driving, I noticed that the radio station was playing some ‘80s rock music. One of the songs that started was one that I had heard multiple times in the past. But this time the topic and the recommendations from the artists were so aligned to my situation that I was amazed! Hold on Loosely² was the song that once started, held my attention for the full length of the song and halfway through the second commercial. I could have made the mistake of letting Angie go, but fortunately, I had held on to her with gentle patience and love.

I was driving past the Roadside Place and wanted to stop to see Jeanie and Jake but knew I did not have enough time if I wanted to get back to Denver in time to catch my flight. Sharing the news of the phone call with Jeanie would have been great, but I would need to save that for another visit.

So, a few miles later, I turned onto the ridge road. Driving along the ridge road that changed from a well-maintained gravel surface to something less grand with ruts and holes in the much narrower pathway was less inviting and less used. The casual explorer would most likely be discouraged from continuing any further and would turn back. It was only another half mile from this point, and I was certain with weather conditions today and in the past week, the road would be navigable. I only mention this expectation because there were times when that simple prospect had not been achievable.

The aspens thinned as I pulled up the final climb to the entrance and was pleased to find absolutely no tire tracks or any other indication of sentient life in the vicinity. I was typically not wary of traffic patterns, but as this was a special site for me, I preferred that it remain as isolated and appear as insignificant to others as possible.

I stopped the truck and applied the parking brakes as I stepped out of the truck and went to open the sturdy eight-foot-tall metal gate. The gate was an external indication of something of importance being here but was not indicative of what might be found inside. Just the minimal amount of deterrence along with the very obvious MyMine – Not Yours – No Trespassing sign to warn and encourage people to move along to their planned destination.

Rolling the gate open, I pulled ahead into the small parking area and rolled the big gate closed once more. Since I had only a few things to retrieve from the truck, I was ready to unlock and open the door to the mine in mere moments. The door was again a rather archaic looking wooden vestige from a hundred years ago, but with the key and heavy metal lock released, the door creaked slowly open to reveal … darkness.

While from the exterior this may have looked like the typical desolate and foreboding hole in a mountain, with the press of a button the interior came alive with activity.

The lights came on to a comfortable level and the heaters cycled on to raise the ambient temperature up to a more comfortable 65 degrees Fahrenheit, which was fine when it came time to swing the pickaxe to break some of the larger rocks into smaller, more maneuverable pieces.

Of course, I did not need to light a fire, or to start a generator, or to open a vent or flue or chimney for venting any exhaust gases. In fact, the only exhaust being produced was coming from my lungs in the form of carbon-dioxide, and as you might recall, I had previously created an atmospheric scrubber to handle that.

Just so you know and understand; I am not bragging here. This mine is far from the ideal work environment due to a variety of factors including the complete isolation. But compared to the environment that existed before I installed some of these creature comforts, this place was safer and more defensible than most 19th century forts and cleaner than some early 20th century farmhouses and kitchens!

I have installed several of my prototype ‘adaptions’ here, to verify what is needed and what actually does and does not work. The self-cleaning and recycling toilet I envisioned is here. No mess, no smell, no undesirable residue. It uses water, recycles water, converts other materials into water, and the remaining solids are converted into other, less obnoxious substances.

If I were a proud man, hoping to have my name remembered and praised for generations, I might call this invention the Jameson and live off the proceeds for the rest of my life with no cares or concerns. But somehow that just does not fit my desires. Funny huh?

Naturally, I have a smaller MEC here, to generate electrical power for lights, heat, music, video, all the usual stuff. If I really needed to break a lot of rock, I could use the compressor for the pneumatic jackhammer. But we both know that is probably not necessary and would never be needed because I am not mining this area for any particular minerals.

You see, with the two MMTs I have located here, I could convert any material into almost any simple elemental substances that had been valuable in the 19th century … and earlier. These particular MMTs have been configured to produce materials that were previously documented to have been found here, or nearby, in this general area. So, while technically the MMTs could produce these materials anywhere, the ruse and misdirection were simply to reduce the possibility of any drama arising from this innovation.

And believe me when I say that I was somewhat weary and wary of drama surrounding the fear mongering of many surrounding the repercussions of my inventions. As I had gone through many of those same fears that had ultimately become realized, I could understand that I still needed to keep some of my discoveries to myself.

As for the MMTs, they appeared to be functioning as expected. My primary unit was busy producing one of the most precious of precious metals, platinum! From the inner glow, I could see that the process continued, and that the device was itself unaware and uncaring as I moved about in the confined area, ready to unload a month’s worth of tireless and complex molecular reconstruction.

Lifting the metal cover, I gently touched the touchscreen that served as a control panel for the MMT. It illuminated, indicating the standard time and date, as well as some other related statistics important to the task being performed. These included: time and date of last visit, elapsed time, and the procedure being processed.

Beyond that simple display was the prompt dialog that would require an authentication for access, similar to what would otherwise be required to authenticate a user on a tablet or other mobile device. I quickly entered the credentials and viewed the statistics revealed there.

Raw material analysis was performed on the input minerals placed in the hopper as the conversion began and had some fairly common measurements as well as some unusual ones, including gross weight, analysis by elemental constituents by atom count and percentages by accumulated atomic mass. Another sometimes interesting statistic: organic percentage was noticeable, but within tolerance levels. I rarely had a significant percentage but would sometimes run into some deep roots or some molds or fungus in some of the moister areas. This particular mine has less natural moisture and therefore also had less organic material.

But then I did seem to remember that I tossed the paper bag with the burger and fries’ wrappers into the MMT last trip, so the paper and grease may have contributed. It was using the enhanced MMAA chips for which I had established requirements and had been built by my old friends at Hamilton Technologies (the Fab) that provided this information.

Beyond the input, was the output. It was my own programming efforts that developed the summary and statistics displays. The screen reported amounts, percentages of basic elements produced and the deviations from the expected and projected amounts base on molecular versus mass differences. The display told me just how successful the MMT was in its ongoing and continuous efforts. And it was doing exceptionally well. Almost too well!

Platinum (Pt), being a metallic solid close to gold (Au) in the periodic chart shares may of the traits of the more prolific metal star. However, I expected the energy to create platinum to be nearly the same as gold but according to the statistics I was reviewing, platinum, while requiring one less proton, electron, and a neutron, did require more time to construct and solidify. All this is being stated to support the fact that I had much more platinum than I had expected and would need to bring additional trays on the next visit.

This also presented a problem because platinum was only being produced in two locations in North America. The first was Southern Montana, and the other in Ontario, Canada. If I had a small amount, it could be considered a curious and interesting find, but too much would cause too much scrutiny and more attention than I was ready to receive.

Looking at the display I could see the item count that directly indicated the number of cubes of output produced. Since the trays are quite large, on the order of 24 by 36 inches, the number of ½ inch cubes of material could be potentially 48 x 72 or about 3600 cubes, although I did not pack that many onto a single tray. Today the counter was at 10,121 indicating at least eleven full trays and part of a twelfth. The other statistic of note was the time per item, which while completely accurate based upon the time and item count, amazed me at around 3 minutes and 2 seconds per cube!

So here comes the surprise, and the disappointment. The cubes of platinum ½ inch on a side weigh about 1.56 ounces, or about 44 grams each. According to the output analysis of 99.87% of basic element content, these cubes significantly exceeded the industry PT950 standard. Just one of these cubes valued at around $28 per gram is $1230. Now since I have over ten thousand to sell, there will be some recognition of this sale and any future sales.

The disappointment comes in two flavors, and perhaps three. First since there will be a temporary abundance of material, the market price will probably drop, meaning that the next sale will be less profitable. Second, because of the temporary fluctuation in price some investors might choose to sell in anticipation of a further drop, which would cause its own repercussions.

The third is the ever-present risk that in selling that too much of any material, the source will become known and that my mine and other operations would also come under increased scrutiny by buyers, sellers, regulators, commercial processors, and distributors. And whether those be governments, dictators, or criminal thugs, the response will generally be unpleasant and unwanted.

Clunk goes the MMT, and I hear a small sound of another cube sliding down the exit path as the MMT completes its task and adds one to document the new 10,122 total item count.

So, sliding out the full and partial trays and replacing them with an empty one, I pressed the ‘Save and Store’ selection button which reset all the statistics to zeros and the Time and Date of Last Visit to now, after storing all the metrics in non-volatile memory for later analysis. I had hopes that I could determine why this creation of platinum was so efficient. Then with the task completed, the device started to accumulate new output counts in a methodical and typically efficient pace.

I would need to fill the hopper with plenty of new material and carry the eleven trays, each weighing potentially 85 pounds each out to the truck. But before that I wanted to look at my recently enhanced MMT, for which I had brought a newer version of firmware to be loaded. This enhancement expanded one of my earlier experiments with carbon production and with each visit provided better and better results.

Rather than multiple flat trays as was use on the other MMTs to collect small, regularly shaped pieces, this device simply had a single 24 by 36-inch metal pan with 8-inch-tall sides and rounded corners. In the bottom of that pan was what looked like a cross between mud and broken chunks of ice. But despite the 65-degree temperature, none of this ice appeared to be melting.

The mud was almost completely carbon and reminded me of the phrase Fire and Ice. The Fire being the process of the atomic dis-assembly into constituent sub-atomic particles and further, but in this case the fire had appeared to consume