20.
Justin
I’m slumped over a circuit diagram when Mason and Cameron stride into the EnergiFusion lab. Their arrival is like an alarm clock, jolting us all into a more upright position. Dark circles hang under everyone’s eyes, as it’s been weeks of burning the midnight oil. For every step forward we take, we take a step back. The incremental approach to adjusting the ratio of sodium to aluminum did help us home in on the balance that’s most effective, but it did not eliminate the charging problem entirely. The batteries are still not holding a charge for as long as they should, and our time with Lamb is running out.
Crystal’s return has been a booster shot of energy to the team, but even she can’t stave off the weariness that permeates the room.
“Guys,” Mason begins, “the Automotive Showcase is just around the corner.”
I nod. He doesn’t need to elaborate. We’re all painfully aware of the ticking clock.
“Seven weeks,” Cameron adds, folding his arms across his chest. His gaze sweeps over the cluttered lab—wires sprawling like vines, screens flickering with lines of code, tools scattered across workbenches.
“Seven weeks,” I echo, the words tasting like lead on my tongue.
We exchange looks, a silent conversation passing between partners. We’re exhausted, running on fumes and fading hope. Then there’s the issue of Fraser Lamb. The guy was supposed to be our ace in the hole, our electrical engineering maestro. We took a risk on him, but it turns out, even maestros hit wrong notes.
“Fraser’s contract ends today,” Mason informs us, and I can’t decide if it’s relief or dread that floods me. Not having to share a portion of the company with Fraser means more profit stays in our pockets, but that’s assuming there’s ever anything to pocket at all.
“Unfortunately,” Cameron continues, a grimace shadowing his features, “he couldn’t solve the battery-charging issue.”
The air in the room thickens, heavy with implication. Without a functional battery, there’s no product. Without a product, there’s no Showcase. And without the Showcase… I shove the thought aside. Can’t go down that road, not yet.
“Any backup plans?” Theo asks, the hopeful lilt in his voice sounding more like desperation.
Mason and Cameron share a glance. They don’t have an answer, and their silence speaks volumes. Have they decided this whole investment was a mistake?
“Tonight, we’re taking a break. We’ll regroup tomorrow,” Austin says suddenly. “We’ll find a way through this. We always do.”
“Right,” Rhys agrees, though the slump of his shoulders tells a different story.
I nod along, trying to believe it myself. We’ve been in tough spots before, but this is different, and the breakthrough we need has proved stubbornly elusive. Now, it feels like the future of EnergiFusion rests on a knife’s edge, teetering between breakthrough and breakdown.
“If we don’t have a functional product to secure orders from the Showcase…” Mason trails off, but he doesn’t need to finish. We all know what’s left unsaid. EnergiFusion is on its last breath.
“Guys,” Cameron adds, trying to smile, “we believe in this project, in all of you. You’ve made progress since arriving here a year ago, and you’ve got seven weeks to figure the last of this out.”
With a final nod, the door clicks shut behind them, leaving us in a silence that’s anything but peaceful. Rhys runs a hand through his hair, a tell that he’s beyond stressed. Theo’s eyes, usually alight with ideas, are dull and defeated. Austin turns to stare at the schematics on the wall, as if willing them to reveal some hidden solution.
“We can’t let this be the end,” I whisper.
“Justin’s right,” Austin says, his gaze snapping from the blueprints to meet ours. “We’ve hit walls before. This is just… It’s a bigger wall.”
“Feels more like a damn fortress this time,” Rhys mutters, kicking at a loose cable on the floor.
The door opens again, and Crystal steps into the lab. She must have seen Mason and Cameron heading back down the hall. She doesn’t say anything, just leans against the wall near the door.
“We must be missing something,” Theo suggests, but his doubt is a tangible thing, filling the room and squeezing our throats.
I shake my head. “Fraser Lamb couldn’t figure it out, and he’s one of the best.” Despair has crept into every corner of the lab.
It’s Crystal who breaks the desolation, her presence like a breeze through stale air. “Hey, tonight we’re going to let loose and have fun at the Velvet Anomaly show,” she reminds us. “It’s the perfect chance to reset and recharge.”
“Is Turner stopping by?” Austin asks.
“He’d better,” I say. “Austin’s right. We’ll take tonight off, focus on something other than the battery, and maybe we’ll come up with a solution. But meanwhile, he did say he would stop by this afternoon to see our digs.”
“Great. We can show him our revolutionary battery that doesn’t work,” Rhys scoffs, though I catch the faintest glimmer of amusement in his tone.
“Come on, it’ll be good to see him,” I counter. “And shaking things up has to give us a fresh perspective.”
“Or at least a good story for when we’re famous inventors. We’ll look back on this sad time when we were down on our luck. This could be the turning point,” Theo jokes, and it pulls a genuine laugh from me.
“Down, but not out,” I correct, pushing away from my workstation. “Let’s clean up a bit before Turner gets here. No need to seem like a complete disaster.”
“Right,” Austin agrees, clapping his hands together. “Impress the rock star with our…organized chaos?”
“Exactly.” I nod, grateful for even this small respite from the weight of impending failure. Maybe Turner’s visit is exactly what we need—a reminder that there’s a world outside these walls, full of possibility and life still waiting for us, no matter what happens with EnergiFusion.
I busy myself with organizing all the spare parts we’ve left lying around, and Crystal goes back to the office. The clink of metal-on-metal echoes in the lab as I watch Austin and Theo prod at the stubborn power cells. They’re so absorbed in their work, faces tense with focus, that they barely register the door swinging open. It’s Turner, hair longer than I remember, but with that same easy grin that lights up the gloomiest of spaces.
“Hey, guys!” he calls as he strides in, followed by Crystal.
“Turner!” Austin exclaims, dropping his tools and wiping his hands on his jeans before going in for a bro-hug.
Theo follows suit, leaving the power cells momentarily forgotten. “Been too long, man,” he says, shaking his head with a laugh.
“Way too long,” Turner agrees, glancing around the lab with interest. “Place looks…intense.”
“Intense is one word for it,” I say dryly, pushing aside a pile of schematics to clear a spot on the workbench. I grab a couple of Scofflaw IPAs from the mini fridge we stocked for occasions just like this—or when the burnout hits hard—and pass them out.
“Hey. The hometown brew,” Turner says, tapping his can against ours.
“Cheers!” We all raise our beers high before taking a drink.
“So, how’s the rock star life treating you?” Rhys asks, leaning back against a cluttered desk.
“Great, great.” Turner nods, taking a swig of his beer. “The girls are plentiful; concerts are insane.” But then his shoulders drop ever so slightly, and he lets out a sigh. “Honestly, though? It gets old, living on the bus, crashing in hotels night after night.”
“Really?” Theo looks surprised.
“Yeah, I’m thinking about making San Francisco my home base for a while,” Turner says, and something like relief flashes across his face at the confession.
“San Francisco? That’d be awesome, man.” My spirits lift at the thought of having Turner close by again.
“Would definitely make things more interesting around here,” Austin agrees.
“After this West Coast swing is over, the band’s taking a break before we dive into the next album,” Turner continues. “And if we play our cards right, we might snag the opening act for Coldplay’s northern hemisphere tour in two years.”
“Whoa, that’s huge!” Rhys whistles.
“Speaking of tours…” Crystal cuts in, her eyes alight with mischief. “I volunteer to join you on the road.”
“Absolutely not,” I say immediately. The thought of Crystal surrounded by the mess of touring life sends an uneasy twinge through me. “We’ve got too much to do here, and we need all hands on deck.”
“Party pooper,” she teases, but I can see in her eyes that she was only kidding.
“Anyway…” Turner sets his beer down on the bench. “Let’s see what you geniuses have been up to.”
The moment hangs in the air, charged with potential. Maybe Turner’s presence is the catalyst we need. Maybe, just maybe, we can turn this impending disaster around.
We huddle around the battery prototype, and Theo fiddles with the components. I hit the highlights of our frustrating journey for Turner, indicating how we’ve made some progress with getting the charge to last longer, but we still don’t have a reliable solution or a sense of what’s actually causing the problem. I even tell him about Fraser Lamb and our most recent attempt to try gradually adjusting the concentrations of sodium ion and aluminum. The math works, but the ratio is still not working in our experiments.
Turner nods thoughtfully but doesn’t speak.
“We’ve been tweaking the concentrations of sodium ion and aluminum. But what if it’s about reducing them?” Austin asks after a moment, his voice slicing through our frustrated silence. His face is thoughtful as he works through the idea in his head.
“What if you’re not directing the flow efficiently?” Turner asks.
“Like a bottleneck?” Rhys asks, brows furrowed.
“Exactly.” Austin’s hands are a blur as he reconfigures wires, and something akin to hope flutters in my chest, though it comes with a healthy dose of fear. I’m afraid to put too much stock in anything right now.
“Try now,” Austin commands, and Theo hits the switch.
I hold my breath as the hum of electricity grows louder than before. The gauges spike, and then the numbers even out. We wait and watch the battery for deterioration—fifteen minutes, all good. Thirty minutes and it seems to be holding. I pass out a second round of beers. Forty-five minutes, still strong. When we hit the hour mark, nobody moves. Then the room explodes in cheers.
“Damn, Austin!” I clap him on the back, grinning wide. “You’re a genius.”
“Team effort,” he deflects, but his smile betrays his pride.
“I think you guys might just pull this off,” Turner says. “Glad I could get your juices flowing.” With a wink, he checks his watch, which reminds me again that there’s other life waiting outside these walls. “Time for me to get to The Fillmore. Sound check calls.” He pulls backstage passes from his jacket pocket, handing them over with a flourish. “Don’t say I never gave you anything.”
“Thanks, man,” Rhys says, tucking the pass into his shirt pocket. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“Seriously, Turner, you’re the best,” Crystal adds, her eyes lighting up as she takes her pass.
“Enjoy the show,” Turner says with a wink. “And keep up the good work. Maybe our next tour will have an EnergiFusion-powered bus.”
“From your lips to God’s ears,” I mutter. But now, with the power cells buzzing around us like a swarm of bees and the promise of music and camaraderie tonight, everything seems possible.
When it’s time to head out, a few hours later, the batteries are still cranking out power. The charge has never lasted this long before, and it feels like this could be the breakthrough we’ve wanted. We set gauges to monitor their progress overnight, and we’re on a real high when we head out for dinner before the show.
The scent of miso and pork broth greets us as we push open the door to House of Ramen, a dimly lit box with walls plastered in band posters, the air thick with steam and chatter. My stomach growls, but there’s electricity in my veins that has nothing to do with hunger. Crystal points out the chicken and vegetable ramen bowl before excusing herself to the ladies room.
“Check this out,” Austin says, already at a corner table with his phone out, scanning the QR code stuck to the varnished wood. I follow suit, thumbing through the digital menu. Noodles or rice bowl? Spicy or mild? The choices are a welcome distraction from the usual grind.
“Go for the extra chashu pork,” Rhys advises over my shoulder. “You’ll need the protein after today.”
“Good call.” I tap the screen and add it to my cart, then add Crystal’s chicken ramen before sending the order through.
Crystal returns, and I drape my arm over her shoulder and pull her in for a kiss. I feel a little giddy right now.
“Can you believe how much juice we got?” Austin’s face is lit up like he’s just discovered fire. “And it was still going when we left…” This surge is more than data on a screen. It’s hope. It’s potential. It’s the future.
“Man, if this works…” Theo trails off.
“Let’s not jinx it,” I say, but I’m smiling too. When the food arrives, we slurp noodles and share laughs, letting ourselves believe, just for now, that everything’s on the upswing.
“What song are you hoping they’ll play tonight?” Crystal asks, and we spend the remainder of dinner talking about our old friend and all the good times listening to our favorite band.
After dinner, we head over for the end of the sound check and stand around backstage. I recognize a few of the roadies from our days at Georgia Tech, and it seems like they’re eyeing Crystal. I pull her a little closer.
Turner has barely finished with sound check before he has two girls hanging on him, and he has to break free to greet us. “This place is sublime,” he gushes. “I mean, we’ve had more than fifty shows on this tour, and this is still fucking amazing. I’m so glad you’re here tonight.”
We share hugs and wish him well, then make our way out front to watch. The opening band starts, their melodic tunes echoing through the crowded concert hall, but I hardly notice. My attention is focused on reconnecting with old friends from school, because, of course, Velvet Anomaly doesn’t travel alone. I spot Crystal chatting with the guitarist’s girlfriend, and there are lots of other familiar faces from Atlanta as well. Does no one have a job? As I make my way around the room, I’m surprised by the different paths my classmates have taken since graduation. We exchange stories and updates, and I field many questions about EnergiFusion. This is the cherry on the ice cream sundae of today, but then things really get going when Velvet Anomaly finally takes the stage. The bass thumps against my chest as we turn our attention forward and merge into the sea of bodies at The Fillmore. Velvet Anomaly positively owns this place, and Turner is a silhouette against the strobes, his voice a rallying cry that pulls the audience together into a pulsing, screaming being.
Crystal’s hand finds mine, and she turns to me, her eyes reflecting the stage lights. In that moment, I see the girl I met at a show just like this one. Her smile is wide, unrestrained, and all the weight we’ve been carrying seems to lift.
“It’s like coming full circle, isn’t it?” she shouts over the music, leaning close so I can hear.
“Only better,” I yell back, and I mean it. With her by my side, we have a viable path for our battery, and with the band tearing it up, I feel nothing but joy.
The set rolls on, each song an anthem, an escape. When the crowd roars for an encore, I look around at my friends, at Crystal, and everything clicks into place. This is going to happen. We’re exactly where we’re meant to be.