Opening his eyes, he blinked a few times, trying to remember where he was exactly. He knew he was at home. That much he was sure of. Something felt off. It’s like that feeling of vertigo just after walking off a spinning carnival ride. You know your balance is a bit off, and you’re pretty sure it’s your equilibrium trying to right itself after spinning in circles at who-knows-what speed. So reflexively, you blink a few times, thinking that you will turn the world right side up. Which, after a few seconds of blinking, it does. Only for Carl, blinking didn’t help.

               He scrubbed his eyes, thinking the dim light was just a bit too dark. Flipping on the light didn’t help his memory. It made it worse, especially from the 100-watt bulb he compulsively was staring into. Blinking a few more times jogged his memory. Right. San Francisco. In the Hilton. How did he know it was a 100-watt bulb? He wasn’t sure, but he was right. Not that he could reach the bulb in the room. The light was twenty feet from the top of his King-sized bed in the suite.

               The room had the standard hotel fair; telephone, a couple of lights strategically placed around the room, a desk, and a rather uncomfortable desk chair. A refrigerator was recessed into the side of the six-drawer dresser, fully stocked with a wide assortment of liquors and snacks. Sitting on the top of the dresser was a small, opened suitcase with two pairs of jeans. One pair, blue. And the other, black. Carl couldn’t see anything else in the bag from the bed.

               Yawning, he pulled the sheets off his legs, standing up. He felt slightly shaking on his feet, almost a bit hungover, which would be a neat trick since he took his last drink more than four years ago. The coffee maker was working steadily to brew black coffee. He knew the percolating sounds well, gurgling like it was almost done but not quite. Carl was still trying to think through the fog of his thoughts, trying his best to recall how he ended up here, but it was useless. Maybe a shower would help.

               He heard his phone ringing. How did he know it was his phone? Even Carl wasn’t sure about that, only that the ringtone was a tinny version of Miami Vice, a joke from his personal assistant, that he couldn’t even remember her name. Only that she put it on the phone, and Carl couldn’t figure out how to change it back.

               “Hello?”

               “Where are you? You were supposed to be here twenty minutes ago.” The voice was his personal assistant who programmed his ringtone. “Mr. Burton?” He was halfway listening to her while trying to pour a cup of coffee without spilling it on himself.

               “Yeah. I’m here, Teri.” For some reason, her name came out of his mouth before Carl had time to think about it. 

               “You need to get down here. I’m not sure how much longer I can stall.” She was sure the investors wouldn’t wait more than ten or twenty minutes.

               “Five minutes, Teri. I need five minutes.”

               Teri sighed, “Well, I can try. I could start the presentation without you,” she started to say, but Carl interrupted.

               “No.” He rubbed his eyes again. “I’ll be right down.” He hung up without saying another word.

               His quick shower felt refreshing, and after toweling off, he felt more alive than he did when he first got up. Three button-down dress shirts were neatly hung in the closet, with two pairs of dress shoes, one black and the other a tannish brown. His pale blue shirt, black jeans, and black shoes were nicely suited for the meeting. Buckling his belt and scrubbing his fingers through his semi-dry hair, he walked out the hotel room door, quickly remembering to grab the magnetic key off the dresser.

               Hearing the heavy door shut behind him, he scanned his phone, quickly finding the documents with every note he had made for the meeting. Details like cash flow projections, anticipated initial advertising budgets to get started, and the nitty-gritty details of the newly created business were scribbled on napkins before taking pictures of them and then destroying each napkin. Carl regularly took pictures of all his notes, a practice he started years ago because of one meeting he attended, where he was unprepared. If he’d taken pictures of his notes, it would’ve changed the direction of his capital investors, like those he would be meeting today.

               The elevator opened into the lobby, Carl glancing quickly at his watch to see the time: five minutes from his call with Teri. He hoped the interested parties hadn’t left!

               Carl slowly walked into the hotel’s restaurant, searching for Teri. She stood with three men smartly dressed in high-end business casual clothing, not suits and ties. He hoped they weren’t leaving, but it looked like Teri’s persuading had reached its end. She was shaking hands, smiling, and apologizing when Carl walked up behind them.

               “I’m so sorry I’m late, gentlemen. Please forgive me. It seems the time change caught up with me.” Considering the three-hour time difference, coming from the southernmost part of Florida to California was difficult. All three men acknowledged his lack of decorum.

               “You are so right about that,” the oldest-looking gentleman said. “The older I get, the harder it is to make those three-hours time changes.”

               “Carl, you are so late. The time change gives you a little leeway.” One of the other men said.

               “But not much.” The youngest of the men frowned at him. “It’s completely inappropriate for you to keep us waiting.”

               “That’s true,” the older man said to the younger, “But if Carl is right, this will be well worth his holding us up. Wouldn’t you agree, Emery?”

                 Emery nodded. The young man standing beside him crossed his arms and shook his head no, albeit slowly, as if admonishing Carl’s tardiness.

               “Please, gentlemen.” Teri, without prompting from her boss, quickly grabbed a server. “Let’s talk this through.” The server stood patiently waiting for the men to decide what to order. Before they looked at the one-page menu, Terri said, “Please bring us five coffees and five glasses of water.” The server bowed like she was waiting on a group of Royals. 

               Carl didn’t even look at the menu. Having stayed at this hotel multiple times over the past two years, he almost had it memorized. The only things Carl missed were the side dishes which, during the breakfast hours, changed almost as frequently as the smog index in Los Angeles. He knew Teri would order for him so he could lay out the overall proposal before the food arrived.

                 Before he asked for them, Teri pulled out four black leather portfolios containing neatly organized and structured details, unlike his napkin scribbles. Carl hadn’t seen the details in print, only in the PDF format on his laptop. He also didn’t know that Teri had spent a small fortune on the leatherbound portfolios, not that he would care knowing what the business model would be worth to these three gentlemen.

               Teri handed each man a portfolio, which the three immediately opened and quickly scanned through, looking at the graphs and articulate graphics, clearly showing Carl’s vision. Carl gave them a few seconds to look through the folders, waiting for objections. Carl thought the last page, the one with their investment cost, would cause each man to gasp. But it didn’t. Instead, the older man sitting on Carl’s left said, “Well. This is incredible, Carl. And you are certain about these returns? It seems to me like a low figure. Is there a reason you aren’t projecting a higher return?”

               “The only reason for the low figure,” he said, pointing at the portfolio, “is cautious optimism. I am anticipating a higher return, seven to ten percent higher. But there are too many unknowns, especially in this field. But, if you calculate even a smaller initial recovery, the yields will still be higher than most investment opportunities available today. Gentlemen,” he said while the server delivered coffee and water to everyone at the table, “I can guarantee these figures, but, and I cannot stress this strongly enough, I will not try to predict the future. Even though we are trying to pave the way into the future.”

               “Emery, you’ve been silent too long.”

               Emery shook his head. “I don’t know. This entire proposal reads like a bad science fiction novel, but,” he paused long enough to take a small sip of his coffee, “if the R&D is accurate? If the science is right? We would corner the market on travel for hundreds, maybe even a thousand years!” His whispered excitement got an affirmative nod from the older gentleman. However, the younger man was still pouring through the proposal.

               Emery asked the young man, “Thatcher, what are your thoughts?”

               Thatcher thoughtfully closed the portfolio, the scowl slowly fading from his face. “It’s an incredible risk we’d undertake, underwriting the potential failure of the newest designs in transportation.” He folded his arms across his chest, tapping his index finger on his top lip. “But. If we don’t take the risk, who will? And more importantly, who would reap the benefit if we pass?” He fiddled with his coffee, spinning it in circles on the table before he drank it. “We can’t afford to invest in this project and cannot risk someone else investing in it. Gentlemen, we are stuck. Damned if we do. Damned if we don’t.” He looked right at Carl, putting both hands on the table. “You knew we couldn’t pass this up, didn’t you?”

               “No. I anticipated you would NOT pass on it. Am I correct?”

               Each man nodded one at a time, and Teri handed each man a pen and a single sheet of paper. It was a simple statement agreeing to not discuss this arrangement with anyone until the money exchange occurred. Then, and only then, would they be allowed to discuss it, behind closed doors, of course, due to its highly sensitive nature. Each man quickly signed it, Teri collecting both the pen and their signed document.

               “Carl,” the senior of the men said, “I want a tour of the facilities in thirty days. And I expect working prototypes in ninety days.”

               “I will get right on that. Each of you,” Carl pointed to each man, “will need to have a complete physical before being allowed on site. It’s a safety precaution, but we will stick with it until we know exactly what we’ve got. At least for the next 180 days, for sure.”

               Teri whispered something into Carl’s ear. He nodded his approval, then she quickly walked away from the table, pulling the server off the side. The server had stood attentively, listening but not listening. There wasn’t anything about this business meeting that was different from any other. Nothing about it stood out to her, but Teri whispered, “Ten thousand dollars.” She held an envelope in her hand. “You never saw these men here. And you certainly will not recall the subject matter of the meeting, yes?” She slapped the envelope into the server’s hand. The server nonchalantly looked inside. A bundle of hundreds was stuffed inside. She nodded yes to Teri, stuffing the envelope into the pocket of her black slacks. “Excellent. Now,” and she proceeded to order food for the table, pointing to each man as she did so.