“Right.” Grady pointed at the floating membrane of malt liquor. “Look at the shape of the field. It’s one reason why I’ve always believed electromagnetism and gravity were linked—albeit in different dimensions.”

Kulkarni was hesitant. “If it looks like an electromagnetic field, and acts like one . . .”

“It’s not magnetism. Any baryonic matter with mass that you place in that field will experience the gravitational effects. Literally anything.”

“Do you expect me to believe that with just fifty megawatts of power you’re exceeding the gravity well of the entire Earth? Without creating miniature black holes or—”

“No, no. Again, We’re not creating gravity at all. Remember: We’re reflecting gravity. A gravity mirror. And that high-energy mirror can be manipulated to refract gravity in various directions.”

“You mean like photons?”

Grady considered this as he ran fingers through his mangy hair. “Perhaps. I’m not certain yet. But the reason I say it’s like a mirror or a prism is we can only reflect the gravitational field that’s already present. We can’t increase the strength of gravity no matter how much electrical energy we pump into the field. If there’s one Earth gravity present, then that’s the maximum we can reflect. But since gravity is also acceleration, we should also be able to mirror the increased g-forces experienced in acceleration—in effect canceling out higher g-forces. Which could be a very interesting application.”

“Theoretically.”

“Yes. Theoretically. Here . . .” Grady approached his computer monitor and pointed at a series of sensor readings. “We can diffuse the effect, too. We’re using the gravitational equivalent of Halbach spheres to create the gravitic field, which means we can manipulate the gravity field much the same way you can manipulate an electromagnetic field with a Halbach array. We can modify its shape—exerting either an equal flow in all directions . . .” He adjusted the knobs.

Suddenly the polar cap of beer poured downward and balled up into a glistening globule at the very center of the imaginary sphere—still hovering in midair but precisely spherical.

Kulkarni muttered to himself. “My God. Zero gravity.”

“Actually an equal flow of microgravity. The gravitational field is focused in toward a central point.”

“An equilibrium then.”

“Right. Or we can focus it in any single direction. Change the direction of descent—essentially change which way is ‘down’—to any vector in space . . .” He moved a joystick, and the beer suddenly hurtled out of the apparatus and “fell” across Marrano and Johnson, soaking them both.

“Goddamnit, Grady!”

“What the hell are you doing? This is a four-thousand-dollar suit!”

“Sorry, guys.”

Kulkarni was already looking around at all the debris on the floor. The dents and holes in the walls. “I’m beginning to understand why the lab’s a mess.”

“Had to test it.”

Kulkarni was cogitating, clearly trying hard to disprove it. “But if this is truly gravity you’re reflecting, then all baryonic matter should interact with the field. Not just diamagnetic materials but literally anything.”

Grady nodded. “Yes. Exactly. Even in a vacuum. And it does.” He picked up a hardcover copy of Isaac Newton’s Principia and, after holding it up, nudged it into the gravity field, where it floated eerily.

“What I don’t understand is why the altered gravity field doesn’t seem to propagate outside the sphere, as one would predict if gravity were flowing in a straight path.”

Kulkarni considered this. “And gravity propagates over any distance . . .”

“Right. If we were creating a gravity field as powerful as Earth’s, it should propagate outward. I think what’s happening is we’re causing a distortion, an eddy in the flow of gravitation.” He threw up his hands. “I’m just not sure yet.”

Kulkarni stood in wonder as he contemplated this. “We should do Newtonian motion experiments.”

Grady dragged a bucket of golf balls from a nearby lab table. “Already have . . .”

Moments later, Kulkarni was shouting joyfully as he hurled golf balls through the center of the test rig. The balls curved as they interacted with the gravity well of the apparatus, then arced off to ricochet against the lab walls.

Kulkarni shouted, “Did you see that?” He pointed. “Like an asteroid slingshotting past Earth’s gravitational field.”

Marrano was still wringing out his jacket. “Jesus Christ, I smell like a damned hobo.” He gestured to the humming apparatus. “And would you please kill that power? No wonder your burn rate is insane.”

Kulkarni glared at him. “Do you have any idea how important this discovery might be?”

“All I know is an investment has to make economic sense. Mr. Grady, have you filed patent applications yet?”

Grady exchanged looks with Kulkarni. He shrugged. “No. But look, there’ll be time for patents. And anyway, we shouldn’t patent the discovery itself.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because it’s a fundamental insight into the nature of the universe. That would be like patenting electromagnetism. We need to share this information. There’s no telling how many innovations might spring from it. And it’s those innovations we can patent.”

“So basically you’re telling me we invested millions of dollars so you guys could win the Nobel Prize? You’d better get a lawyer, Mr. Grady.”

Kulkarni stared at the spinning golf balls and smiled. He looked amazed as he gazed up at the massive assembly. “Your discovery could change everything, Mr. Grady. It could change literally everything.”

Grady shrugged. “Well, I don’t know about that, Professor, given the energy requirements for the effect. But it certainly opens up some interesting possibilities.”

“Is there a landline where I can make a call?”

“Sure.” He pointed to the back wall. “The offices are through the door there.”

“Thanks.”

Marrano looked up. “Who you calling, Professor?”

Kulkarni spoke without turning. “The fund’s technical advisers in New York, Mr. Marrano. I don’t expect you’re capable of describing what we saw here today.”

“Tell them we’ve got the situation under control.”

Suddenly a billiard ball bounced across the floor and narrowly missed Marrano’s head.

“Heads up!”

 • • •

Sameer Kulkarni moved through the unimpressive lab offices. What décor there was had faded from decades of exposure to fluorescent lights. Still, he examined the rooms with something approaching reverence.

This is where it happened.

Low-rent space with unused filing cabinets pushed into a corner. Racks of cheap computers busy processing something. All so . . . ordinary.

He noticed another origami geodesic dome on a nearby filing cabinet. He stopped to examine its precise, intricate structure.

Innovation was a curious thing. It never failed to amaze him.

And yet this place confirmed what they’d long known: that truly disruptive innovation rarely came from the expected sources. They’d had so much more luck investing in eccentric B and C students. The rationale was simple: Those heavily invested in the status quo had difficulty thinking outside of it—and were often tainted by it. Especially when success and peer approval beckoned. One did not accidentally graduate from top-tier schools. One strove to get in and to maintain grades once there, and to do that, one usually needed to be a master at conformity. To excel in all the accepted conventions.

No, the truly different thinkers often went unnoticed. Kulkarni’s organization had much luck along those lines in the Third World—eccentric geniuses reinventing infrastructure with small technological improvements: water filters, solar, optics. The trick, as always, was separating the wheat from the chaff. Finding the usefully crazy people among the seriously crazy ones. And that was something Kulkarni’s organization did better than Silicon Valley ever could.