They all showed up. Whether it was fear or hope or some combination of both that got them didn’t matter to Martin. They were there, and they were ready. He regretted not having enlisted everyone sooner, but circumstances had been different when they’d started. Back then, Martin didn’t have such a grip on their trust.
The exterior of the machine was basically complete, but Martin wanted it airtight. His first order of business was to weld all the cracks shut. What would have taken him days with Lane and Chet was accomplished in a matter of hours by a well-organized army of welders following Martin’s every command.
Next came the interior, where there were gear trains to align and belts and fans to mount and sync, not to mention the knobs and levers and switches to attach. The work wasn’t drudgery, like hauling the machine back on the sleigh, and there was a healthy amount of curiosity among the workers.
“What does this thingy do?” someone might ask.
And Martin would hold up a gyroscope or a pendulum and he’d give them all a quick lesson in mechanics and physics and they would listen intently, as if he were telling the most riveting story imaginable.
For nearly six weeks that was how things went. Outside, the air was cold, and flurries blew strong and sideways. Inside, they were cramped together, but they could move well enough, and the pace of their work kept them warm without requiring extra heaters. With Chet dead and Henry gone, there was little fresh meat and few veggies to go around, but Wendy could bake, and they had an adequate amount of packaged provisions to last them until the launch. They weren’t thinking much further than that.
They celebrated Christmas and New Year’s in the machine, drinking soda and eating piles of cookies. Instead of carols, they sang a cappella versions of their favorite pop songs, especially the ones they hadn’t heard in years because they hadn’t located the albums at local music stores. They were a tone-deaf bunch, but music was so new and wonderful to Martin that he encouraged them to sing while they worked as well.
Darla made trips to get more supplies, including a fresh stock of solar panels, which were dedicated to powering tools. Most of the remaining houses and buildings had been without power since the fire. So on especially cold nights, the kids didn’t even bother to go home. They would all curl up together on the floor in one big slumber party. Then Martin would wake them in the morning with breakfast and a new set of instructions.
Martin knew he couldn’t act as though he was withholding information. Evasiveness breeds suspicion. The enigma that was his father had proved that. So Martin cooked up a variety of replies to allay the kids’ concerns, though he was careful not to be so explicit that he could contradict himself or be proved wrong.
When Erica asked him, “Is this thing going to shoot up in the air like a rocket?” Martin explained, “It’s going to spin. Only you probably won’t feel it spin, ’cause it’ll be going so fast. Think of the universe like a spring. You normally travel on the edge of it, along the loop of the coil. The machine is like a big screw. It’s going to spin around and shoot right up through the middle. Folds in time, wormholes. It’s all very complicated physics.”
When Hal asked, “Don’t we need, like, space suits or something?” Martin calmed him with a “Not at all. The machine is pressurized and sealed, and at the speed it will travel, we shouldn’t feel the effects of atmosphere.”
The general questions led to more creative answers.
Gina pressed him one morning. “Are they expecting us?”
“Probably not,” Martin responded. “They didn’t leave on purpose, you know. They’re lost. The machine is very sensitive to vibrations and it can find large groups of people. To be honest, I can’t say where it will take us exactly. It’s like following a bloodhound. It will pick up the trail. Like we all picked up the trail and ended up here in Xibalba.”
And the only time Martin was completely honest was when Damone asked, “Who taught you how to build it?”
“My father,” Martin told him. “He was a secretive man. He was never really clear about why he was building the machine. But he taught me how to read using a book about spaceships. And he must have known the Day was coming, and he was preparing me for it. I guess he didn’t want to scare me with the details.”
He didn’t need to lie. All evidence pointed to the fact that his father had been expecting something earth-shattering to happen in their lives. Maybe he had known that Martin was going to be left behind. Maybe this was his legacy for his son, his way to rescue him.
“When is it going to be ready?” was the question that everyone asked.
“Any day now.”