Tesla by Jason Walker (an ebook reader txt) 📕

A few days later, agent Barker received a phone call and was told that the professor that would go through Tesla’s sea trunks was none other than John Trump.

Trump was a professor at MIT. He was known for being exceptionally intelligent. He excelled in high voltage physics and seemed to be just the right kind of theoretical and practical man for the job of deciphering Tesla’s images and designs and perhaps prototyping his “phantasmic” flying machines for the “greater good”. Agent Barker was sent to speak with him personally. When he finally tracked him down, the professor was found reading in an office that was cluttered, with diagrams tacked to the walls and other odd mystical gadgets spread out over his shelves and pushed to the front of his desk.

Agent Barker knocked on his office door and was welcomed in by the professor. “Dr Trump, I’m the FBI agent that phoned you yesterday,” he said as he walked into his small office and looked for a place to sit down.

“Yes, I remember speaking with you. Thank you for showing up on time, Agent Barker. How can I help you?” said John Trump as he welcomed this brooding guest to sit down in the chair in front of his desk.

Barker said, “Let me cut to the chase to save us both some time, Professor. I’m not here for pleasantries. I’m here to request that you take a two-week leave of absence from work. There’s a matter of national security that we need you to assist us with.”

Trump asked, “What is it you want me to do? And who exactly is us?”

Barker said, “It’s better if I show you rather than tell you. Let’s take a drive, shall we?”

And so, later that morning, the duo showed up back up at the FBI-owned warehouse where Tesla’s belongings had been stored. Trump was shown the sea trunks filled with information. It blew his socks off when he saw how much work was being asked of him.

Barker said, “Your job is to go through Tesla’s property and to specifically look for anything to do with flying saucers and or teleportation technology that could give us an edge over other countries.

At first, Trump wasn’t sure if he wanted to get involved. It only took a little bit of poking around the first trunk to change his mind. Trump was instantly invested in the work after peering into the first diary he picked out. “I’m going to need at least a few weeks to dig into all of this. It could actually take months to catalogue it all and make sense of it. I don’t know if I can do all of this in just two weeks, Agent Barker. That’s asking too much of me. This is Nikola Tesla we’re talking about here. You and I both know that he was meticulous and was lightyears ahead of us in academia.”

Barker nodded. “I know. Well, start on it, and if it’s necessary, I can give you more time. And don’t worry about MIT. We’ll have somebody cover your work over there. Your pay will still keep coming in, too,” Barker assured him.

“That’s good, but I think you’ll have to give me a whole lot more than what MIT is paying me if you want me to figure out and find what you’re looking for. Have a think about that and I can start work here as early as tomorrow, but I’ll need someone to let me in and out each day,” the professor stated.

“Okay. Deal. Be here at 9 a.m. and I’ll make sure somebody lets you in. Bring a decent lunch because once you’re in here, you’re not leaving until closing, which is at 6 p.m.”

The professor agreed, and agent Barker drove him back to his office at MIT.

During his time sorting through the man’s belongings, Trump found many diaries and notebooks that spanned page after page of images he’d never even conceived could be created, let alone translated into logical-mathematical structures that defied normal scientific understanding. His inventions were endless and his theories and the types of physics Tesla was using, blew John Trump’s mind. He spent hours sitting and reading through them, jotting down notes on various names and figures he would need to look into later. He would spend an entire day studying just one patent. Often, the technology being proposed was above his pay grade and there were many times when he felt this way as he delved into the mind of this incredible inventor.

In those journals, Trump learned many things that would surely become national secrets.

To Dr Trump’s astonishment he soon discovered that, at one point, Tesla had been hired by the US government to put a radio receiver up in the Statue of Liberty for listening purposes. Later, John discovered an entry in one of Nikola’s diaries about how he was invited to help Mr Eiffel in France to create a radio receiver high up in the Eiffel tower to help the French find German spies in World War I, perhaps alluding to why his transcripts and drawings were classed as critical to obtaining for the future safety of America.

The secret group that had seconded John Trump to this most incredible glimpse inside the mind of a true pathfinder in electrical engineering, Nikola Tesla, was keen to find out how genius Nikola truly was.

The details of things not even yet imagined were all in the journals, written down as proof of Tesla’s visionary ability to create amazing inventions. Trump couldn’t imagine reading this man’s works in just a few short weeks, let alone a year. He needed more time—much more time.

In that moment, the semantics didn’t matter. Trump just needed to tell Barker the situation he saw in front of him. He knew he was in a special place, but he had a sneaking suspicion that he wouldn’t be the only person that would be given access to Tesla’s materials from here on out. He predicted that Tesla’s notes and inventions would soon disappear and not be seen by the public again.

Darren Mathews was one of several men who happened to make up the most elite group of Australia’s Defense Force—the Special Air Service. It was a late summer day in Freemantle, Western Australia. The weather had been good so far. The skies above them were blue and clear of any clouds, the day was scorching, as always. They were just starting their annual leave, and the soldiers had decided to gather together in a park and celebrate the start of it with a round of beers under the cover of a canvas tarp, strung up between their vehicles for shade. On the tailgate was a fiery BBQ one of the soldiers in civvies was tending to, charring some prawns and chicken for the other smiling chaps watching him work the grill.

Mark Wood, an SAS Trooper, had already downed several more beers than the rest of his mates. He jeered, not for the first time that day. “I just don’t get it, guys. The base is in Australia! Australia! But they’re telling us Aussies that we can’t go in it. What the fuck, mate? It’s our fucking country, ain’t it?”

“Pine Gap doesn’t make any sense,” replied SAS Trooper Benny Hamilton. “A U.S. Territory, my ass. I don’t believe you. It can’t possibly be true, mate. How the fuck could that be?”

“It’s true,” said Mark. “I can prove it.”

Darren demanded, “How are you going to prove it then, eh?”

“I’ll show it to you,” said Mark. “We’ll go to the base before our leave is up. I’ll prove it to you that it’s there! We’ll have to do an epic drive, through. You up to the challenge, mate?”

They made a drunken vow, agreeing to go check it out. After all, they figured that nobody would tell them that Australian Special Forces weren’t allowed to enter a base within Australia—not when they had valid military identification!

The group of them decided to drive out, taking several vehicles from Western Australia all the way to the middle of the Northern Territory. Dust. Flat tires. Hot! Almost melting pavement. Nothing but dirt roads. The trip to the Northern Territory was long, scorching, and hard on vehicles. It wasn’t safe to drive at sunrise or sunset either, due to the animals that often moved across the roads. ’Roos were the worst offenders, and they did the most damage, often taking out entire front grills and causing grave damage to windshields if you met them at the wrong angle.

Wallabies and wombats were frequent asphalt crossers too. They might not have been quite as big a hit as taking down a ’roo, but they still did a number on a vehicle’s undercarriage. Large brown snakes and other slithering cold-blooded creatures often lounged in the middle of the road during the late hours of the evening, absorbing rays and soaking up the last of the day’s heat. It wasn’t a pleasant experience to run over them either. The men did their best to avoid any untimely incidents on the road as it usually meant someone would have the misfortune of untangling a gooey, bloody mess from the underside of the SUV.

The first night, they pulled over at about two in the morning. They’d travelled quite far without incident, but everyone was tired from the heat and monotonous highways they’d been enduring. As they pulled off the road, Darren Mathews marvelled at how clear the skies were. He could see what seemed like an infinite number of stars above his head. He rolled down his window and stuck his head out to have a better look at the glowing and sparkling sky above. His old Toyota Troopy model HJ47 was made for this landscape, and he drove it off the road to a flat spot before parking it while his friends followed him to do the same. It was one of the simplest engines to work on too, which made it very appealing to the bloke that needed to work out in the bush.

The good thing about his Troopy was that he could sleep in it with no problems. No scorpions would be crawling into his sleeping bag tonight, and that made him happy! The night stretched out around them; it was cool enough considering the time of year, with a dry stiff breeze blowing through and stirring up the dust and dirt around them. The stars were bright, a mass of silver specks faintly glowing against the pitch black of the sky, like paint splatters on a black canvas.

After seeing his mates pull out their gear, he continued to make his bed for the night inside the back of his vehicle. When he was just about done, Trooper Wood came up to him with a beer and knocked on the back of his truck. “Hey, mate, you sleeping in that palace already?”

Mathews opened the rear of the truck. It was a former military model that had been phased out. It could carry a number of troops and gear, but for one person, this thing was a palace.

As Darren stepped out of the back of his truck, he accepted a cold can of Foster’s from his friend. He smiled at Trooper Wood and replied to his question. “I want to enjoy my