"Kayla Sail" by Tara McMillen

He wants to steal your work, and take all the credit for himself, she thought, watching him spit water through his nose laughing at something Jake said.

Kayla held a finger in the air to check the wind direction.

She had worked on this project for three years, and Trion, her assistant, had been with her the entire time. She’d never suspected him before today, so why the fear now?

A light breeze came from a North/Northeast direction, from behind her right shoulder. This meant she’d have a nice light breeze helping “push” her across the gorge, and despite herself, she smiled.

But the idea of Trion stealing her hard-earned work creeped back into her thoughts. She tried to will it away; Trion had been as devoted to this project as Kayla, never swerving in his loyalty. Doubt swayed her convictions about his loyalty, however, and now that she had the thought, she couldn’t get rid of it.

Kayla knelt on the ground by the gorge, looking down into the dried-up Columbia River. Juniper bushes dotted the far side near the entrances to the two caves, which were cut into the side of the rock face from decades of erosion. Kayla had always thought the two caves looked like eyes, with the steep dividing rocky wall resembling the bridge of the cliff’s nose.

The cool breeze washed against her cheeks; what a perfect fall night. She allowed her gaze to run over the winding dirt river. The full moon cast a blue radiance over the valley, casting a bluish hue over the of rocks and boulders, giving them the appearance of varying shades of red and brown. She wished, as she had most nights since she was a young girl growing up after the SunCrisis, that she could see what it looked like in bright daylight. Kayla sighed, and breathed in the sweet crisp air instead.

Trion waited on the other side of the cliff, right between the two eyes. The upturned surface of the road prevented her from seeing him on that side of the river, and a bank of skeleton trees prevented her from seeing the road, but she knew he was there with their sponsor hopeful, Jake Pratt from Spencer’s Extreme Sports magazine, research division. Trion was an ambitious intern but he was young. Why would he exploit this opportunity when Kayla was on the Washington side of the Columbia, getting ready to risk her life for the good of mankind?

Then she remembered the wink. He had winked when she’d told Jake Pratt that they were close to a working prototype of the Kayla Sail, nicknamed Tiny Dancer, though this last part was a private joke between Kayla and Trion. She knew his wink was meant to be cute, but the lack of his smile had unsettled her, causing her gaze to linger on his face a moment longer, and that was when she’d seen his eyes narrow ever so briefly; so small as to be missed had she not lingered that extra moment. Then he’d broken into a big grin as if it had been there the whole time, and she wondered if she’d imagined it.

Again, she fruitlessly looked for him on the other side of the river. The distance from the Washington ledge of the gorge to the Oregon side was a quarter mile. The bank of bare trees that masked the upturned road had tree branches so numerous that they penciled small black triangles into the night air behind, completely obscuring scenery behind them. The distance would not lend itself to any facial detail anyway.

Perhaps her Mag Eyes could pick up minor artifacts missed by the naked eye. She turned the software on through her 20’s neural implant, but the extra magnification only showed her more intricately thick layers of branches. Maybe she should’ve upgraded to the premium version after all. Kayla cursed, switching off the Mag Eyes.

She pictured Trion leaning over to Jake, saying something that made both men laugh. What would they be laughing about? The ridiculous woman about to fly a glorified hover board across the Columbia River? An image of Trion swinging his hips from side to side as if in a dance suddenly popped into her mind. Trion was probably telling the sponsor all about their private joke. “Dancer” was a synonym for hovering, and Kayla loved Elton John’s music, especially his song “Tiny Dancer”. Since the Sail was so small, they’d started calling it ‘Tiny Dancer’.

Why would he tell, she thought? Before that wink, she wouldn’t have thought him possible of betraying her like that, but now, she didn’t know. Damn, why had she insisted on being at this end? Trion could have demonstrated the devise while Kayla explained the process to the sponsor. That made more sense since her Sail wasn’t easily understood, and she could explain it better than Trion. People tended to look confused after Trion explained something to them. She couldn’t afford for that to happen today. But they needed more money to finish the prototype. That was why the sponsor was there, to decide whether or not to fund their project, and Trion was better at schmoozing clients and sponsors; Kayla hated small talk, rendering conversations short and sometimes non-existent. The client, Jake Pratt this time, seemed to have a natural comradery with Trion. Kayla wasn’t sure how to compete with that, and so she had relinquished the explanations to Trion while she did the dirty work. Self-doubt had won again. Kayla cursed.

She could only hope that she’d dumbed down the language enough for Trion to not be confused. They were creating an invisible bridge between two land masses, only instead of a force field bridge, the device generated a small force field “step”. When the user stepped forward onto the “step”, it provided push-back to keep them airborne. Kayla had micro-sized the technology and harnessed enough energy to power the mini-computer, transforming bridge crossings into the new decade. Seemed simple enough, even for Trion.

She shook her head, paying attention to the wind direction. It had not changed. They were close to a working prototype, using technology adapted from a somatosensory scooter, but for now, they had to approximate the motion the Sail would give. Micro electromagnetic force field matrices, in theory, would hold a person’s average weight as they walked across the gorge, rematerializing beneath the walker’s feet as they shifted their weight between steps in a normal walking gait. They did not have a working model yet, but they did have the Prancer, a hover board which provided enough thrust to stay airborne at altitudes of two hundred feet above the ground. The river’s clearance at this high point where Kayla would take off was 215 feet. Kayla believed the Prancer safe enough to make the quarter-mile journey.

All the same, this test run was far from safe. Aside from the fact that Prancers were not endorsed for gorge crossings due to the lack of safety equipment, there were hundreds, maybe thousands of variables that could go wrong at any moment, meaning Kayla needed steady focus, no wandering attention. Ironically, the point of doing the test run with a devise that approximated the movement and necessary thrust was to show how it could be safe for a person to maneuver such a devise across the chasm, with proper safety features such as Kayla had installed in her Prancer, eliminating the need for bridges. Would the sponsor agree that an alternative for bridges was worth the cost? She quieted the negative voice in her head that insisted the demonstration she’d prepared was boring. Bridges cost money to build, money to maintain, and money to repair. The Kayla Sail would save the population millions in tax dollars, and put her in line for a Nobel prize. However, she would settle for being able to make rent and pay off her credit card debt. Putting food on the table couldn’t hurt either.

She looked again at the wall of spindly tree arms across the river. What were Trion and Jake talking about? Why was Trion not talking to her, asking her status, giving her a countdown, or even telling his corny jokes? Were they still on the other side? Maybe they’d gotten bored and decided to hit up the nearest bar while she stood out on this ledge in 50°F, shivering with the slight breeze. When was the last weather report? She could feel that the wind had not shifted, but were there predictions? Would it change to North-Northwest? She could be doing this for nothing!

Trion and she communicated through their neural implants, which helped, but, at times, like now, her doubts and reservations were louder. She almost wished she’d installed the spy cam in her 20, but her healthy conscience had gotten the better of her.

She ‘keyed’ the mic. “Hey, you boys ready over there?” Her voice sliced through the night air, cutting through the silence. She winced; she hadn’t intended to sound so severe.

"Yes, ma’am," Trion answered quickly. His voice was perky.

Had he been laughing? She didn’t doubt it. Probably telling Jake the one about the difference between a tire and 365 used condoms. She knelt beside Prancer, rolling her eyes. “One’s a Goodyear. The other’s a great year!” her inner Trion roared with laughter in her head. She ran one more check of the systems, making sure the solar fuel cells were full and the parachute was packed correctly and the controls were functioning. Then she checked the remote for battery and clearness of signal. She’d done these checks two times already, but it didn’t hurt to check them a third time. Kayla had no interest in nosediving to her death while Trion and Jake swapped dirty jokes.

“Okay, let’s do this,” she said. She activated her 20’s video camera, scanning the gorge before turning on selfie-mode. “My name is Kayla Teslar, aeronautical engineer for BeldingAir.com. This is test #1, the Columbia River gorge crossing. I’m using a modified Prancer, outfitted with future Kayla Sail technology. Now, let’s do this!”

She scanned the camera back to forward facing, and stepped onto the foot pads. With her thumb, she flicked on the power, feeling the earth drop away as she floated to a foot above the ground. It felt spongy, but stable. She began to walk in place, mimicking the intended movement of the Sail. The Prancer glided over the ground, easily clearing all the small rocks and shrubs as Trion relayed the wind and speed direction. Kayla made minor course corrections, but as the edge of the gorge loomed ever closer, Kayla’s heart skipped a beat and for one terrible moment she lost feeling in her legs.

Oh, shit, what am I doing? I can’t do this! Her breath caught in her throat and her palms sweat so bad that she almost dropped the remote. Her fingers slipped over the keys as she fumbled for the stop button. The remote squirted out of her grip, but she caught it, and brought the device close to her body. She took a deep breath, and, hugging the remote, managed to hit the stop button.

What the hell was wrong with her? Was she so uncertain of her own idea that she was throwing away all the preparation that had gone into this demonstration? She had practiced this over smaller altitudes and been fine. It wasn’t like this was the very first time doing this over a far distance, either. True, it was the farthest distance to date, but only by 200 feet. She remembered her breathing, and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. The persistent negative Nancy in her head reminded her, however, that 200 feet was all it took for a catastrophic accident.

“Damnit!” she said out loud, forgetting her mic was hot.

“What? What’s wrong? Are you losing power? Are the gauges stuck?” The fear in Trion’s voice cut through her terror, disrupting her destructive thought pattern, and allowing her to take a breath.

What was wrong? Fuel level read full, batteries read a 98% charge, and the green light on her parachute glowed bright. Nothing was wrong and it hit her; it didn’t matter if Trion was trying to steal her credit. What mattered was to prove that an altitude this high could be safely crossed on a device with a surface area of no more than twelve inches. The smallness of the device was key to keeping future prices of the Sail within reach of most blue-collar workers, while justifying the exorbitant price to those same workers.

Gradually, her breathing slowed and the sweating stopped. I can do this, she reminded herself. Silliness, she thought, how easily I can derail my own success. Then she berated herself for berating herself.

“I’m fine,” she answered, offering no further information. Silently thankful for the future editing she knew she could do with this video, Kayla powered the Prancer back up and the device glided smoothly over the edge. When the ground fell away, Prancer dropped a few inches, but that had been expected. The hover board was only rated for 200 feet, so the fact it had dropped only a few inches was impressive.

Kayla forced herself to look down in order to acclimate to the height. Her stomach dropped when she saw the dry river bed, its intricate cracked patterns visible even from this height. Her gaze held, though, and she slowly felt her body relax as the power beneath her feet thrummed with life, effortlessly gliding 214 ½ feet above the ground. The wind blew her hair back from her forehead, and the air smelled sweet. A couple miles to her right, she saw the Goddess Bridge, the steel truss cantilever bridge that was just over half a mile up the river from where Kayla had taken off. She could see the cars whizzing back and forth over its solid surface. Her Sail eliminated the need for cars. Purely solar-powered, the user could go anywhere at speeds up to 80 miles an hour over land. Kayla already had plans for adapting future models with force fields that kept out the wind, rain, and cold. She didn’t want to get ahead of herself, though; first get the money to build the thing!

She cast her eyes to the far side of the gorge. She hadn’t realized how long a quarter mile could feel. Her Sail would be able to maintain 40-50 miles an hour on air, but this Prancer was yesterday’s technology. It went 10 miles an hour, so this sojourn would take up to about two and half minutes. Two and a half minutes hadn’t seemed long when she’d been on solid ground, but now, seeing solid ground still so far away and nothing but a bed of rocks to cushion her fall should she lose her balance, self-doubt began to creep back in. She searched in vain for the road on the other side where Trion and Jake awaited her arrival. She reminded herself that she needed to be within 1/8 of a mile before she’d see the road, but she looked anyway.

Why was she doing this again? Surely there were easier ways to make money. She could be throwing pizzas or working a cashier at an office supplies store, something safe and grounded. Why had she thought this dumb idea would save her?

No ideas were stupid when you were in theory stage, she reminded herself. Safe on the ground, the beautiful Earth pushing back with an equal and opposite force, not like out here where the layers of air molecules offered no resistance to gravity. Suddenly, Kayla had a strong desire to look down again, but she resisted. The last thing she needed was for vertigo to topple her into the pricker bushes that lined the former river path below. The earth pulled at her, though, making her shoulders droop, trying to knock her off her balance. Before, looking down had helped calm her. Now, the earth pulsated up and on the down, breathed in a giant gulp of air, she felt the drag of gravity pulling her down with it. Then the Earth breathing out and she felt herself pushed up into the air. The cave eyes smiled gleefully as the Earth breathed in another gulp of air, pushing her back down. She clamped her eyes shut, but this only amplified the feeling.

She opened her eyes again and felt a familiar weakening sensation in her legs and then her knees wobbled. Oh good God, No! If she fainted up here, this stupid antique piece of crap wouldn’t notice or care or be able to do anything to pop the chute. She would plummet to her messy death while the stupid Prancer glided safely to the other side without her.

As the strength weaned from her thighs and her knees buckled, she remembered the flip-switch for the parachute. The parachute was her safe passage to the ground below should she fall. She held the remote, flipping up the safety cover for the switch, grateful the wind had dried the sweat on her hands.

“Winds 2 knots North Northeast becoming North after midnight; temperature 52°F, visibility 10 miles. Few clouds at 2500 feet,” Trion’s voice split her thoughts apart.

Kayla latched onto his voice. “Can you repeat that?” She’d heard him the first time, but her immediate irritation at Trion giving more information than was needed had given her a metaphorical slap in the face. He always gave more information than was needed. It was 9:30pm, and this ride would be done by 9:31pm so why did she need to know the wind would be coming from the North after midnight? But the fact that she was able to admonish him with her thoughts enshrouded her with a stabilizing force that filled her body with serenity.

He repeated the weather report, and Kayla saw all the long hours she’d put into modifying the Prancer, all the complicated math equations, formulas, and solutions that had brought her to the same safety standards again and again. The Prancer beneath her feet was as safe as her future Sail, and if she needed it, all she had to do was flip the switch and float to the ground.

The solid surface of the Prancer continued purring beneath her feet. She looked back up at the far side, ignoring the cave eyes beneath and nearly collapsed with relief to see the dirt road and two small figures beside a car.

She held up an arm and waved with as big a gesture as she dared. “What are you boys standing around for!” She called out. Even without the Mag Eyes, she saw both Trion and Jake waving back, jumping up and down.

“Yeah, girl!!!” Trion called back.

Kayla looked down again, and this time, the sight of the craggy surface awed her. She looked up at the sky and bellowed at the top of her lungs: “Woohoooooo!!!!!!” Suddenly her arms felt like wings and she wanted to dance. She did not, but did make a turn to the left, going in a full circle no bigger than a few feet in diameter. She lined back up with the other side of the gorge and sailed safely to solid ground, parking the Prancer in front of Trion and Jake.

“And that, boys, is how it’s done!” Kayla hopped off the Prancer, powering it down, and pocketing the remote.

Trion and Jake stared at her with jaws hanging open.

“Oh my God, Kay!!! You are such a bad ass!” Trion said.

Jake Pratt stepped forward, shaking her hand vehemently. “That was so awesome! You got your funding. This invention of yours is going to revolutionize river crossings!”

Kayla smiled. “Thank you so much!” She almost hugged the man, but resisted, and a moment later was glad she did so.

Jake turned to Trion, snapping off a salute. “My man! So give Chuck a call on Monday.”

“Monday!” Trion chirped back.

Kayla’s smile faltered. “What’s Monday?” She hated the taste of the question.

“Jake can get me an upper management job at Belding Air!” Trion nearly shouted with glee.

Kayla looked from Trion’s goofy smile to Jake’s sedate one. “Upper management? Since when are you administrative?” she directed the question at her assistant.

Trion shrugged. “This is just a job for me. It’s not like this is life or death!” He laughed.

Jake joined him. “Yeah, I had to throw the guy something for all the help he’s given you making this dream a reality. After all, it was his idea! Anyway, what a spectacle!” Jake shook her limp hand and walked back to his car.

This time when the strength left Kayla’s legs, she did not fight it.