police as they reached the top of the steps, relieved that the ordeal was over. Preston seemed none the worse for wear, brushing himself off as he stood himself up. The police chopper slowly circled above the building, a metal dove signaling the storm was over.
Max looked over the balcony and scanned the dispersing crowd. He caught sight of Micky as she approached with Clay, and he just stared. He could tell she was a reporter; her demeanor and movement were unique, cautiously observant like the police ahead of her. But unlike the other reporters that quickly swarmed the balcony, this woman looked at the body with concern and remorse. She made no attempt to report the story, but was more content to have just survived it.
Their gaze finally met, and both stared quietly at each other for a few seconds. Max smiled, and she returned his greeting with a wide smile of her own, something she hadn’t done all evening.
“Look out,” Max whispered, barely audible in the crowd around them. He didn’t blink the whole time he was staring into her dark, beautiful eyes.
Micky nodded her head. “Look out,” she repeated back with a smile.
Max looked at the floor in contemplation, then turned around to see Preston. Preston nodded and smiled back in return. Max puckered his lips and made a ticking sound inside his right cheek, one of his curious habits when making an important decision.
“Miss,” he told her with his hand extended in invitation, “come with me, please.”
Chapter Six
“This is Colleen O’Reilly reporting live from the University of St. Thomas Aquinas, where the much-anticipated press conference for the Olympus Project had just gotten underway. Despite the promise of a new future, this endeavor is not without its controversy. An equal amount of opposition has joined fans and supporters, turning this joyful question-and-answer forum into a potential battleground of ideologies. Regardless of the fanfare outside the university’s auditorium, inside sit a handful of men and women eager to move forward. It seems the divisions on our humble little planet will now be continued above it.”
Peryson inserted a finger over his collar and loosened his tie. Flanked by his colleagues, he sat proudly in his designer suit. In conjunction with several televised specials, this conference was the official introduction of the Olympus project to the public. He was tired of the secrecy, and he clearly showed his relief with his enthusiasm for the crowd. Several hundred people packed the normally cavernous auditorium, with several dozen microphones and cameras scattered strategically on the stage. In his opinion, no amount of media coverage was enough to fully encompass the significance of their project.
“…and it is not with exaggeration that I tell you that this is the most significant step Humanity has taken since the discovery of fire,” said Peryson to the audience, gesturing continuously with his hands.
“Imagine a time and place where we can actually point to the sky and say, ‘I’m going up there for a vacation. Would you like to come along?’ Ladies and gentlemen, that time has come, that time is now. Help us with our dream, with your dreams. Support the Olympus project and help usher in the new future.”
Applause roared from the crowd. A hand quickly raised up from the press table.
“Could you please explain how exactly you will be transporting civilians to the space station?”
“Thank you for your question,” said Peryson to the reporter. “First of all, the term ‘civilian’ is incorrect. ‘Passenger’ is more appropriate. This is not a military venture, it’s commercial. Traditionally, we’ve transported passengers to the older stations by having them sit vertically in a space shuttle while being piggy-backed on a larger rocket. Let’s face it, ladies and gentlemen,” he said with a shrug, “I honestly can’t see hundreds of people, paying good, hard-earned money, sitting
Max looked over the balcony and scanned the dispersing crowd. He caught sight of Micky as she approached with Clay, and he just stared. He could tell she was a reporter; her demeanor and movement were unique, cautiously observant like the police ahead of her. But unlike the other reporters that quickly swarmed the balcony, this woman looked at the body with concern and remorse. She made no attempt to report the story, but was more content to have just survived it.
Their gaze finally met, and both stared quietly at each other for a few seconds. Max smiled, and she returned his greeting with a wide smile of her own, something she hadn’t done all evening.
“Look out,” Max whispered, barely audible in the crowd around them. He didn’t blink the whole time he was staring into her dark, beautiful eyes.
Micky nodded her head. “Look out,” she repeated back with a smile.
Max looked at the floor in contemplation, then turned around to see Preston. Preston nodded and smiled back in return. Max puckered his lips and made a ticking sound inside his right cheek, one of his curious habits when making an important decision.
“Miss,” he told her with his hand extended in invitation, “come with me, please.”
Chapter Six
“This is Colleen O’Reilly reporting live from the University of St. Thomas Aquinas, where the much-anticipated press conference for the Olympus Project had just gotten underway. Despite the promise of a new future, this endeavor is not without its controversy. An equal amount of opposition has joined fans and supporters, turning this joyful question-and-answer forum into a potential battleground of ideologies. Regardless of the fanfare outside the university’s auditorium, inside sit a handful of men and women eager to move forward. It seems the divisions on our humble little planet will now be continued above it.”
Peryson inserted a finger over his collar and loosened his tie. Flanked by his colleagues, he sat proudly in his designer suit. In conjunction with several televised specials, this conference was the official introduction of the Olympus project to the public. He was tired of the secrecy, and he clearly showed his relief with his enthusiasm for the crowd. Several hundred people packed the normally cavernous auditorium, with several dozen microphones and cameras scattered strategically on the stage. In his opinion, no amount of media coverage was enough to fully encompass the significance of their project.
“…and it is not with exaggeration that I tell you that this is the most significant step Humanity has taken since the discovery of fire,” said Peryson to the audience, gesturing continuously with his hands.
“Imagine a time and place where we can actually point to the sky and say, ‘I’m going up there for a vacation. Would you like to come along?’ Ladies and gentlemen, that time has come, that time is now. Help us with our dream, with your dreams. Support the Olympus project and help usher in the new future.”
Applause roared from the crowd. A hand quickly raised up from the press table.
“Could you please explain how exactly you will be transporting civilians to the space station?”
“Thank you for your question,” said Peryson to the reporter. “First of all, the term ‘civilian’ is incorrect. ‘Passenger’ is more appropriate. This is not a military venture, it’s commercial. Traditionally, we’ve transported passengers to the older stations by having them sit vertically in a space shuttle while being piggy-backed on a larger rocket. Let’s face it, ladies and gentlemen,” he said with a shrug, “I honestly can’t see hundreds of people, paying good, hard-earned money, sitting
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