Wood Sprites

“I understand. Historically, it’s the mass supply and demand that fuels innovation. When only a handful of companies could afford computers, the rate of improvement in the technology was minuscule compared to the leaps in advances when they became tools of the masses.”

“Pittsburgh doesn’t have masses. It’s still an expensive, nearly handmade piece of equipment with a very narrow profit margin.”

“But if you could find some way to translate them to Earth. .”

Suspicion filled the Pittsburgher’s face, and the segment ended with president gesturing that the camera should be turned off. “I think I’ve answered enough questions.”

Wyatt then proceeded to stop random people who owned hoverbikes and ask how they worked. The riders could explain that the lift drive took power from the gasoline engine and “somehow generated the vertical motion.” The more power into the lift drive, the higher the bike would hover, at the sacrifice of speed to the horizontal motion. That much they all knew.

One college student leaned against his hoverbike, shaking his head. “It hurts my brain when I try to understand it. The lift you can actually see if you’re like over a mud puddle. See. There’s a force pushing downwards, and it’s creating an equal and opposite reaction. But the forward motion? I really don’t know how it possibly works. Especially the fact that you can brake. Logically the bikes should be like boats in water; in a frictionless state, things in motion stay in motion. It’s not stopping on a dime, but you can brake — only I have not a clue how. It’s not like you throw out an anchor.”

Louise could guess which spell Alexander had used to create the lift. She wondered about the possible combinations of spells that could have created the forward motion of the hoverbike.

It took Wyatt weeks before he managed to catch Alexander on-camera. Even then, he wasn’t aware that he’d found the person that he was looking for. He’d cornered Team Tinker at the racetrack, packing up to leave for the day. Heavy steel toolboxes and a mud-covered hoverbike were being strapped down onto the back of a big flatbed truck with “Pittsburgh Salvage” painted onto the door. Two massive elfhounds came to their feet as Wyatt walked up to the team, their growls as deep and menacing as a grizzly bear’s.

“Bruno. Pete.” A man in a Team Tinker T-shirt called to the dogs, silencing them. “We don’t allow photographing of our riders except during the races. We do sell publicity photos. If you want pictures, come by our table in the concession area next week.”

There was a jump in time as Wyatt negotiated the right to continue filming. During the interval, Alexander appeared on the back of the flatbed. Hair damp from a shower, she wore a Team Tinker T-shirt, cargo shorts, and hiking boots. She stomped in and out of the shoot, checking gear and complaining about the heat. Either Wyatt had been banned from photographing her or he missed the subtle body language of the people arrayed around him. Alexander might have been the youngest member of the team, but her teammates rotated around her like planets about a star. Instead, Wyatt kept the camera trained on the team’s business manager, who was only identified by the name of “Roach.” (Everyone in Pittsburgh apparently used weird nicknames.)

“Everyone I’ve talked to says that the Chang family might have built the race track but it was Team Tinker that started the sport.”

“I suppose,” Roach admitted cautiously. “Most of us went to high school together.” This generated a rude noise from Alexander. “Those of us that went to high school. The statistical outliers we met through business.” Another rude noise. “Roach Refuse.” He tapped his chest. “Pittsburgh Salvage.” He waved vaguely toward the truck. “Even people with brains the size of a planet need help with how to successfully run a business when they’re first starting out, and I learned it at my grandfather’s knee.”

“How did you start the sport? Where did you get the hoverbikes? Were they already invented or was that part of coming up with the sport?”

Roach’s eyes widened slightly and the corner of his mouth twitched with what might have been a nervous laugh. He started to turn toward Alexander, but she cut him short with, “Ah-uh! You’re the one that agreed to this!” He winced and ducked his head to kick at the ground for a moment.

Orville came onto camera, freshly showered, carrying his muddy riding leathers and a cherry ice pop. With a wary look at Wyatt, he handed the ice pop to Alexander. He asked a silent question with the jerk of his head and Alexander snorted with utter disgust. The cousins sat side by side on the edge of the truck’s bed as Alexander sucked on the ice pop and listened to Roach trying to explain.