The laboratory at the base of the tower was not a building. It was a cathedral of electricity.
Jason, Sarah, Einstein, and O'Malley walked through the massive copper doors. The air inside was warm and dry, humming with invisible energy.
There were no light bulbs. Instead, glass globes filled with noble gases floated freely in the air, glowing pink, blue, and amber, powered solely by the ambient field.
In the center of the room sat a man on a high-backed wooden chair.
He was feeding pigeons.
But these weren't ordinary birds. Their wings were replaced with delicate balsa wood and copper wiring. They fluttered around him, landing on his shoulders with the soft whir of tiny motors.
The man stood up. He was tall, impossibly thin, and dressed in a pristine, old-fashioned tuxedo. His eyes were deep set and feverishly bright.
Nikola Tesla.
In the original timeline, Tesla was destitute in 1920, feeding birds in a New York park. In this world, the chaos Jason unleashed had pushed him into hiding—and into paranoia. He had never left Colorado Springs. He had fortified it.
"Professor Einstein," Tesla said, ignoring everyone else. He bowed slightly. "I read your paper on Relativity. Elegant. But wrong about the ether."
"Herr Tesla," Einstein replied, clutching his violin case. "I see you have solved wireless transmission. The energy density in this room is... staggering."
"It is infinite," Tesla corrected. He finally looked at Jason. His expression hardened.
"And you must be the Hedge Fund Manager. The time traveler."
Jason froze. "How do you know that?"
Tesla tapped his temple. "I hear the frequencies, Mr. Prentice. Not just radio. I hear the timeline. It screams when you are near. You are a dissonance in the universal chord."
"I need coolant," Jason said, cutting to the chase. "My reactor is dead. My ship is broken. And there is a satellite in orbit trying to drop tungsten rods on my head."
"Project Thor," Tesla nodded. He walked to a massive brass machine covered in dials. A seismograph. The needles were vibrating violently, scratching jagged lines on the paper drum.
"Gates is clumsy," Tesla muttered. "He thinks big rocks are the ultimate weapon. He lacks imagination."
Tesla ripped the paper off the drum and held it up.
"Look at the resonance frequency."
Jason looked. The waves were uniform. Artificial.
"This wasn't an impact tremor," Jason realized. "This is a standing wave."
"Correct," Tesla said. "The Rod from God wasn't just trying to kill you. It was a calibration test. A hammer strike to ring the bell."
"What bell?" Sarah asked.
Tesla walked to a large map of the United States on the wall. He picked up a pointer.
He didn't point at Colorado. He pointed at California. specifically, the San Andreas Fault.
"The Earth has a resonant frequency," Tesla explained. "If you hit it with enough force, at the right rhythm, you can shatter tectonic plates like a wine glass."
Jason felt a cold knot in his stomach.
"Gates isn't just dropping rods," Jason whispered. "He's drilling."
"He is creating a harmonic oscillation," Tesla confirmed. "He plans to trigger the 'Big One.' But not a natural quake. A directed separation."
Tesla drew a line down the coast of California.
"He wants to break the West Coast off the continent," Tesla said. "Create an island nation. Separated from the chaos of the mainland. A technological utopia ruled by his algorithm."
"Millions will die," O'Malley said, horrified. "The tsunamis alone..."
"To Gates, they are variables," Tesla shrugged. "Unnecessary data."
"We have to stop him," Jason said.
"How?" Tesla sneered. "Your balloon is broken. Your reactor is dirty. You are burning dead people for fuel. You are a caveman trying to fight a god."
"Then give me a better club," Jason challenged.
He stepped forward, invading Tesla's personal space. The physicist flinched—he hated germs—but stood his ground.
"You hate Gates," Jason said. "You hate that he stole your ideas. That he uses Direct Current logic in an Alternating Current world. You want to prove you're smarter than him."
Tesla's eyes narrowed.
"I am smarter than him."
"Then prove it," Jason said. "Retrofit my ship. Give me something that can fly without fuel. Something that can hide from his satellite."
Tesla looked at the broken Icarus visible through the open doors. He looked at the dirty, desperate crew.
Then he looked at Einstein.
"What do you think, Albert?" Tesla asked. "Is he worth saving?"
Einstein adjusted his glasses.
"He is chaos, Nikola. But chaos is the only thing that disrupts a perfect system. If we want to break the loop, we need a random variable."
Tesla sighed. He pulled a white handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his hands.
"Fine. But no more bio-diesel. The smell offends my pigeons."
The Upgrade
The next twelve hours were a blur of sparks and madness.
Tesla didn't use blueprints. He just pointed.
"Strip the lead shielding!" Tesla ordered. "It is too heavy! The field will protect you from radiation!"
"Rip out the fuel tanks!"
The crew of the Icarus worked alongside Tesla's automated machines—spidery automatons that welded with electric arcs.
They removed the heavy diesel engines. They removed the bio-fuel tanks.
In their place, Tesla installed the Coil.
It was a massive copper toroid, wrapped around the ship's central axis. It connected to a receiver spike on the nose of the airship.
"The Lightning Drive," Tesla explained as he calibrated the final coil. "It does not burn fuel. It pulls potential energy from the ionosphere. The Earth is a battery. We are simply the plug."
"Infinite range?" Hughes asked, drooling over the specs.
"Until the sun burns out," Tesla said dryly.
"But what about the satellite?" Jason asked. "It can still see us."
Tesla smiled. He flipped a switch on the console.
HUMMMMMM.
The coil on the hull began to glow violet.
The air around the ship shimmered. Like heat haze on a highway.
Jason looked at his hand. It was blurry.
"Plasma sheath," Tesla said. "The high-frequency field ionizes the air around the hull. Radar waves will be absorbed. Light will be bent. To the electronic eye, you are a hole in the sky."
"Stealth," Jason breathed. "In 1920."
"Invisibility," Tesla corrected.
The work was done. The Icarus floated in the clearing, humming with clean, dangerous power.
Jason stood at the ramp. Tesla refused to shake his hand.
"One warning, Mr. Prentice," Tesla said. "The field requires speed. If you stop moving, the ionization collapses. You must stay fast."
"I can do fast," Jason said.
"And," Tesla added, his eyes serious. "Do not let Gates win. He is boring. A boring world is a tragedy."
"I'll keep it interesting," Jason promised.
He climbed aboard.
"Contact!" Jason ordered.
There was no roar of engines. No smoke.
Just a sharp CRACK like a whip.
The Icarus shot upward. The G-force was instant. They went from zero to hundred knots in seconds.
Jason looked back.
The tower in the valley was shrinking. Tesla stood there, a tiny figure in the snow, surrounded by his mechanical birds.
"Orbit achieved," Hughes called out, checking the altimeter. "We are at 30,000 feet. Speed increasing. 200 knots."
"Radar?" Jason asked.
"Clear," Hughes laughed. "We're a ghost."
Jason looked at the map.
The West Coast. The San Andreas Fault.
"He wants to break off the edge of the world," Jason whispered.
He looked at the glowing purple horizon.
"Set a course for California," Jason ordered. "Let's see if we can make an earthquake of our own."