I shrank the Strobium. Seems impossible, doesn't it? Strobium is one of the most dense materials on our planet. But I shrank it to the size of a grain of salt. Enough to power that card-shaped box for several years. Wires spun in and out of ports as I connected them to and from the small, dish-shaped depression in the center of the box. In this I placed the Strobium.
I didn't actually shrink the Strobium. As far as I know, that is impossible. But every material on earth can be compacted. In essence, pressed in on itself until it takes up no space. Density just increases, leaving the material heavier than usual. Strobium is very dense already, so I needed a powerful compacter. We won't get into that, but let's just say that American Compacting, the people who ended the world's trash troubles through "shrinking" garbage got their ideas and machinery from me.
After the Strobium was compacted, the rest was easy. After the wires were connected and a small amount of Uranium 238 was deposited in the depression with the Strobium, I placed the lid on the box and pressed a small switch on the side. I had disconnected the electricity from my house, and was using all of our tech to test it. As soon as I had plugged that baby in, every light in our house flickered on, every computer hummed noisily, the blender spun, the microwaves buzzed, and every other electronic device zinged to life. Success!
Beyond this point, the story takes an epic turn. You use these power cells in things today. Your computer has one. Your house has one. They are inexpensive and easy to come by. But back in those days, I had the only one. An unlimited supply of energy in the palm of my hand. What was I going to do with it?
Well, I hadn't really thought of that. Essentially, I could sell it, hide it, or put it to good use. But what was good use?
Ever since I was a child, I had dreamed of being a superhero. I wanted to save the week, battle the evil, and earn respect and glory for myself. I know it was self-centered, but doesn't every child wish this at some point? Doesn't every boy or girl wish to fly, to be able to shoot lasers, to have power beyond their wildest dreams? I was no different, though I held this desire into a much later age.
I used this power for good. I used it to create one of the most legendary items ever created; an item which is desired to this day. No one has ever found it. That is because I have it. But I'm getting ahead of myself. To recount, I must return to a previous date.
Nathaniel is my cousin. He and I were 16, and happy. We were good friends. We hung out. We did things together. One day, we saw a guy getting mugged. This would not have been strange in Portland, or in San Francisco, or in New York. Lots of crimes happen in those places. But this was Lebanon, a small town; we were highly disturbed.
We just stood there. The man didn't notice that we were watching. His victim didn't notice that we were watching. But, simultaneously, we had the exact same idea. We were both Conservative citizens, and believed in the right to bear arms. Sadly, we only had knives. I wish we had thought that through better, but the end result would have been the same.
We approached the mugger. Nathaniel took out a small penknife, shaped like a leaf. I had a larger Buck knife that I had been given for Christmas. It was sharp; I was obsessed with keeping my knives razor sharp. The mugger turned at the sound of our approach. His eyes glazed with fear. This gave us confidence.
"Hey, fellas, I don't want no trouble," he said, dropping the wallet he had been raiding and putting his hands up. Now, I was afraid. I had never saved anyone, though I had dreamed of being a defender. I was not even ready to attack this man; Nathaniel, however, was wittier than I.
"You should have thought of that before you started mugging someone," Nathaniel said. "You do the crime, you pay the price." With a slow lurch, Nathaniel lunged forward, extending his knife before him. The thief sidestepped. I don't know what happened, but I was suddenly charging as well, my larger knife slashing through the air. It caught in the thief's jacket. It was razor sharp. It cut through the fibrous material like butter. The thief didn't notice. He was too busy kicking Nathaniel out of the air. Nathaniel spun into some nearby trash cans.
I jabbed with the knife. It struck the thief in his ribs. His face registered pain as he turned and hit me in the face. It wasn't a hard hit, but I wasn't accustomed to be slapped around. I stumbled backward, stunned. I hadn't anticipated being hit, but thank God, my knife was still in my hand. The mugger tried to run, but tripped on one of the trash cans left by Nathaniel's fall. He stumbled forward, right over Nathaniel hulking form. Nathaniel was holding his knife in his left hand, and he jabbed at the thief's neck. He nicked the thief's throat, and a small red slit appeared. The thief grabbed his neck; finally, his fear had turned to anger. He turned to Nathaniel and I and reached into his own pocket.
"Fine, boys; you want a fight, you got one." He withdrew a blackjack. He lunged at me and swung the blackjack at the side of my head. Now, you would think I would just stand there stunned. I had never been in a fight before. But I did have brothers. I had learned, through years of wrestling and random friendly attacks to duck if someone swings at you. I had also learned that, when swung at, you swing back. I ducked under the thief's attack and jammed my knife into his stomach. This time it stuck. As the thief turned, my knife was wrenched from my grasp. I was defenseless. Nathaniel, however, had recovered his balance.
He slashed at the thief as he ran past, stumbling over the garbage. His knife did not stick, but it cut the thief's wrist. The thief dropped his blackjack as he stumbled onto his face. I didn't realize at the time that my knife had been pushed farther inside by the weight of his own body. The thief tried to get up, but by now, the blood loss was getting to his head.
What were we going to do about this?
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