Read Online The Navigators by Dan Alatorre - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Dan Alatorre
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held up a hand. “Hold on, hold on. Who did you talk to? One of your MIT buddies?”
“MIT!” Roger shook his head. “Oh, my God, there it goes!”
“Roger, calm down.” Barry turned to back Findlay. “Who?”
Findlay shrugged. “Yeah, one of my buddies at MIT.”
“Jesus!”
“A pirate, okay? An illegal hacker guy. He won’t go above ground with it.”
“How much does he know?” Melissa asked.
“I put it to him theoretically.”
Roger pointed a finger. “Don’t play games with us, twerp.”
“Look.” Findlay threw his hands up. “I said I had a theory problem, and he approached it like that. For all he knows it’s for a book.”
“Except it’s not for a book, you asshole.” Roger rubbed his forehead. “Barry, this is why I didn’t want any outside help. The minute you let these hackers in, they start fucking everything up and telling the whole world.”
Findlay bristled, pointing back at Roger. “You guys were up against it, asshole. I solved your problem.”
Barry cocked his head. “What do you mean?”
“You had the machine, and you had some ideas of what it was, okay? But that’s all you had. Ideas.” He softened his tone and leaned into Barry’s line of sight. “You guys are diggers, man. Math guys, and physics guys, they bring ideas to life. Sometimes they can reverse engineer a whole concept into something that works.” He looked around at the rest of us, then back at Barry. “But here, you didn’t know what you had. You figured out some of the concepts, but you didn’t know how to make them live .”
Excitement crept into Findlay’s voice now. His small, wiry frame stood taller and he spoke with more force. “Check out all of these dials and knobs.” He put a hand on the machine and pointed at its panel of dials. “Barry asked how you’d make them or who could make them, okay? Was it ancient Mayans or some futuristic descendant of the human race? It’s a good question, but it’s the wrong question.”
Findlay pulled his head from the machine to address us, wrapping his hands around the piping. “The real question is why did they make the number of dials they made? And when you approach it as a math problem, the answer jumps right out at you. Watch.”
He strode to Barry’s desk and picked up a pencil and a pad of paper. “Melissa, here. Write down a date. Any date.”
She scribbled on the pad.
“Aha, okay.” Findlay picked up the pad and showing it to us. “12/25/2014. Month, day, year, separated by slashes. This date works for us as we stand here in Tampa, Florida, United States… We’re eastern standard time, too. But what does the military use? They put the day first, not the month, and they utilize a 24-hour clock so there’s no AM or PM. That makes it more universal. More mathematical . Okay? The language of math knows no limits.”
Melissa pushed her hair behind her ear. “Okay.”
“Okay. Now . . . ” Findlay tapped the pad with a finger. “If you need to be more precise about your selected date, you’d need to know the time, too. Hours, minutes.” He laid the notepad on the coffee table and grinned at Melissa, holding up his hand. “So, count with me.” With each word, he touched a finger of the open hand with the index finger of the other. “Year, month, day, hour, minute… Five variables.”
Then he pointed at the dials on the machine’s panel. There were five big dials.
Findlay had cracked the first code.
“Oh, my God,” Melissa gasped. “Findlay, you figured it out!”
Findlay beamed. “That’s just one of the unknowns we were able to solve. And check out the little raised bumps around the dials. Like, this one has twelve.”
“Months?”
“Right. And this one has thirty-one.”
“Days.” Her mouth hung open. “So they used our dating system?”
“Or they knew we would be using it.” Findlay shrugged. “But check out the subdials here for the years.” The panel had an inset space there for a dial like
“MIT!” Roger shook his head. “Oh, my God, there it goes!”
“Roger, calm down.” Barry turned to back Findlay. “Who?”
Findlay shrugged. “Yeah, one of my buddies at MIT.”
“Jesus!”
“A pirate, okay? An illegal hacker guy. He won’t go above ground with it.”
“How much does he know?” Melissa asked.
“I put it to him theoretically.”
Roger pointed a finger. “Don’t play games with us, twerp.”
“Look.” Findlay threw his hands up. “I said I had a theory problem, and he approached it like that. For all he knows it’s for a book.”
“Except it’s not for a book, you asshole.” Roger rubbed his forehead. “Barry, this is why I didn’t want any outside help. The minute you let these hackers in, they start fucking everything up and telling the whole world.”
Findlay bristled, pointing back at Roger. “You guys were up against it, asshole. I solved your problem.”
Barry cocked his head. “What do you mean?”
“You had the machine, and you had some ideas of what it was, okay? But that’s all you had. Ideas.” He softened his tone and leaned into Barry’s line of sight. “You guys are diggers, man. Math guys, and physics guys, they bring ideas to life. Sometimes they can reverse engineer a whole concept into something that works.” He looked around at the rest of us, then back at Barry. “But here, you didn’t know what you had. You figured out some of the concepts, but you didn’t know how to make them live .”
Excitement crept into Findlay’s voice now. His small, wiry frame stood taller and he spoke with more force. “Check out all of these dials and knobs.” He put a hand on the machine and pointed at its panel of dials. “Barry asked how you’d make them or who could make them, okay? Was it ancient Mayans or some futuristic descendant of the human race? It’s a good question, but it’s the wrong question.”
Findlay pulled his head from the machine to address us, wrapping his hands around the piping. “The real question is why did they make the number of dials they made? And when you approach it as a math problem, the answer jumps right out at you. Watch.”
He strode to Barry’s desk and picked up a pencil and a pad of paper. “Melissa, here. Write down a date. Any date.”
She scribbled on the pad.
“Aha, okay.” Findlay picked up the pad and showing it to us. “12/25/2014. Month, day, year, separated by slashes. This date works for us as we stand here in Tampa, Florida, United States… We’re eastern standard time, too. But what does the military use? They put the day first, not the month, and they utilize a 24-hour clock so there’s no AM or PM. That makes it more universal. More mathematical . Okay? The language of math knows no limits.”
Melissa pushed her hair behind her ear. “Okay.”
“Okay. Now . . . ” Findlay tapped the pad with a finger. “If you need to be more precise about your selected date, you’d need to know the time, too. Hours, minutes.” He laid the notepad on the coffee table and grinned at Melissa, holding up his hand. “So, count with me.” With each word, he touched a finger of the open hand with the index finger of the other. “Year, month, day, hour, minute… Five variables.”
Then he pointed at the dials on the machine’s panel. There were five big dials.
Findlay had cracked the first code.
“Oh, my God,” Melissa gasped. “Findlay, you figured it out!”
Findlay beamed. “That’s just one of the unknowns we were able to solve. And check out the little raised bumps around the dials. Like, this one has twelve.”
“Months?”
“Right. And this one has thirty-one.”
“Days.” Her mouth hung open. “So they used our dating system?”
“Or they knew we would be using it.” Findlay shrugged. “But check out the subdials here for the years.” The panel had an inset space there for a dial like
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