Fortune Hunters

Chapter 3: Downfall

Zachary squinted through the dark tinted glass inches from his eyes as small sparks, like tiny fireballs, flew toward his eyes. The hot metal he held in one hand grew hotter as he welded it to another piece, forming a protective steel box. He took off his safety glasses, placing the welder beside him on the workbench. With the absence of the sound produced by the flame, he could hear his parents arguing from a couple rooms away. 

Howard had been called away to some important business meeting about a new product that they were going to be producing. That's all Howard told Zach, so that's all Zach knew. He didn't ask anymore, nor did he want to know any more. He knew his dad worked with technology of some kind, most people did if they wanted lots of money, so Zach didn't really care. He didn't want to mass produce technology like his dad, or any number of other adults, did. He was original and creative. Nobody had the same ideas as he did, and he was going to use his imagination to it's capacity until it would inevitably dwindle as he grew older. 

He shook a long cylindrical can vigorously, commanding to the empty garage: "Play some tunes". From speakers Zachary had installed in each wall, activated by the microphone hidden in his workstation, classic rock began to play. He nodded his head to the beat as he attached the plastic tube to the top of the can. Pushing down hard on the button, he placed the tube facing the bottom of his new steel box. 

A foam-like carbon fiber erupted from the tip of the tube, spreading over the bottom of the box. Zach placed a thick layer on each side as well, emptying the can. Over the bass guitar and steady beat of the drums coming from his speakers, he heard a door slam from somewhere in the house. taking a deep breath, he took the small device he had been working on for months.

It was meant to be a battery of sorts. It would, eventually, be able to store a near unlimited amount of power, and once that power was used, it would be used in the most efficient way possible. Zachary had come to the conclusion that all electrical appliances and devices used in everyday homes wasted a majority of the electricity put into them, meaning that a paid resource was being wasted, which gave the opportunity for someone to come along with a million dollar idea that could stop this waste.

The only problem was that when to much electricity was put into the battery, as it was now, it would start to leak in a way. This made for a bad hazard that almost started a couple of fires or fried a couple of circuits. That was why Zach had come up with a couple new design ideas, including this new box. 

Zachary could hear yelling from closer than before. "Turn up" he said absently and the beat intensified. He pulled a box from under his bench, wires growing out of the top of it like branches on a tree. He pulled a large bundle out and shook it to untangle it from the others, pulling randomly at the other wires to force them to submit to his decision. 

A short burst of yelling, this one louder and closer. Zach didn't want his music to loud, the speakers might blow again and that would be another couple hours of finding where the problem was and fixing it, but he also didn't want to hear the argument. After a personal debate, he elected to just ignore it. 

He finally got the wire loose and grabbed his wire cutters and strippers. He held the wire up to where he was going to connect it and traced it's path with his thumb and finger down where he would place it until he got to the other end where it would connect. He allowed another couple of inches of wire to slip through his fingers and then he cut it. 

One more short burst of yelling from what seemed to be near the garage door into the house. Zach couldn't understand it over the music, but chose to continue ignoring it. He stripped the wire on either end, throwing the small access plastic away in the trashcan by his right foot. 

"ZACHARY!" Zach jumped out of his shoes, dropping the wire and the wire strippers. He saw his mom in the doorway, one hand on the doorknob as she leaned in, staring right at him.