Break the Ice

October 18, 2011
By Anonymous

On a breezy evening in the midst of the fall, the luminescent full moon was gently dancing on the rippling waves of Iosta Lake, the wind racing through each, and every branch to see to the world. There was not a sound in the impenetrable silence of the inky night sky, but was interrupted shortly when there was a sudden gentle padding of footsteps on the gravel of the sidewalk, right next to the infirmary. Taviare, a famous inventor, was the lone man walking along the deserted, broken-up road, placed right next to the old infirmary. The shutters were closed and he remembered his previous job working there. The memories capping themselves up, Taviare set off in no apparent direction again. He halted in his tread, gazing out into the grand lake. Memories of him and his brother canoeing filled his mind, but were broken up when he heard a rustle of leaves. Taviare looked behind him, but saw nothing except a sign swaying back and forth with the constant, bone-chilling air. Gazing back towards the water, he quickly resumed his stride.
Further, along on the road, Taviare glanced at multiple apartment complexes that have closed because of the economy. The money was bad nowadays and people needed to make wise choices to make money, although some decided to take on the path of criminals. Taviare’s pace continuing on, he entered the park through the ever-noticeable black metal gates. Stepping across boundaries, there was a sudden breeze of cold air. He pulled up his collar to his jaw line and brought the brim of his hat down, cleverly disguising his face. He rounded the corner and went through the bridge, when, all of a sudden, a shadow caught his eye. Taviare’s eyes followed it from one side of the shrub and dashed quickly to the other side.
As silently as possible, Taviare quickly rummaged through his tan duffel bag, and pulled out an Exluminator, a special magnifier that can sense heat, gases, and anything of that sort, and was something that he himself had invented, all neatly packed into something similar to glasses. Putting the Exluminator on, he turned his head in the direction of the sound, and switched it into the mode to sense heat waves and found them behind an oak tree. With his footsteps gently placed on the gravel, Taviare cautiously approached the direction of which the sound came from. With his fingertips resting gently on the rough and dusty bark of the tree, a man suddenly jumped out of thin air and in one swift movement, savagely pulled him into the inky and unforgiving shadows. And the last thing heard through the cloudy night sky was a muffled cry.

Inside of his dream, Sam was wandering down a dark corridor. He then had entered a circular metal dome, and there was someone sitting on a wooden stool, the man’s body was lack with no life, but thankfully was breathing. All of a sudden, the man sitting in the stool had looked up, almost straight at him and whispered, “Get out of here.” Sam’s legs instinctually pulled him away from the scene when two men, who seemed to appear out of nowhere, brought the man behind him, to his knees. They knocked him out cold and dragged him away. Sam was running with all his might and as far away, as his legs can carry him from that nasty place and at last was saved by his alarm clock, which woke him up with a single loud chime. Sam sat up and panted very fast, almost as he had just finished a marathon. Sam’s heartbeat was still fast, and trying to shake the thought out of his head, he got out of bed and got ready for school.

It was a joyful day outside with the sun and clouds playing a friendly game of hide-and-seek. There was also a cool mist hung in the air in addition to the trickles of the little creek next to their house. The trees were swaying to say hello to their fellow neighbors and each blade of grass had a drop of dew to quench their thirst. To top it all off was the aroma of a delicious meal of scrumptious French toast. Freshly made with crisp butter fried crusts, and freshly picked wild berries, with tangy, sweet flavors, and a compilation of these smells floating out of the open window was enough to make any one who was crossing by the window to salivate.
Sam entered the room and greeted his mother with a warm, “Hello.”
To which his mother then replied, “Good morning sweetie.”
As Sam sat down to start on his breakfast, he first looked at the mirror across from him. His jet black and hazel hair was a ruffled up, his face was pulled into a bony cheek and chin, his shirt was stained right on the Nike logo, and his jeans were torn at the knees. Sam was not the most attractive boy in his grade, but did indeed get good grades, and was pretty well rounded. He was in ski club, part of the football team, was also in honors math, language arts, social studies and science, and is in band. He looked away from the mirror and out the window as he absentmindedly ate his meal. In the center of putting a sweet raspberry in his mouth, Sam’s father entered the room, with the old, tattered briefcase clutched in his hand.

When the bus arrived, Sam eagerly got on it. Upon arriving at his elementary school, Sam entered the classroom and took a seat near the black board. Sam Brait was a very smart boy, who has knowledge that is even comparable to his father’s, so needless to say, he was top of the class. Today was a typical day, with his peers staring at the girls with the perfect faces, beautiful hair, and brilliant laughs, Sam was busy observing the more complex, as a matter of opinion, factors such as: how a pencil creates marks on paper, how the fan’s spinning creates a gust of wind, how the globe can spin on an axis. His thoughts were then, interrupted when his teacher said, “Class dismissed,” which was then followed by a cheer from a select few students.

After school was over, Sam’s mom brought him over to the Montvaulve Library for him to read for a little while. Just as the sun was settling on the feathery clouds, while Sam was weaving his way through the multiple sections, Sam came upon a rather odd book bound with leather and gold letters spelling out, “Famous Inventors Throughout Life.” He looked in the table of contents, and saw all of the well-known people such as Thomas Edison, Alexander Bell, and Albert Einstein, but on the bottom, that seemed to be scribbled in very quickly, was a name that seemed somewhat familiar to Sam. All of a sudden, epiphany hit Sam. Taviare was the name of his father’s brother. Sam had often heard tales of Taviare and his dad’s adventures together, such as exploring inside caves for mystical jewels and crystals. They also both used to build tiny crafts, such as the swing set in Sam’s backyard, but Sam did not realize that Uncle Taviare built such grand things, such as a Molecular Scanner WP65, and a full-set refractor telescope with built-in light filters.

Sam probably spent three hours going through numerous books, encyclopedias, and almanacs, looking at the achievements that his uncle had accomplished.

On the car ride home, Sam took this time to interrogate his mother.

“Mom, I have to ask you something,” required Sam. “Was Uncle Taviare an inventor?”

“Why would you ask that, honey,” asked Sam’s mother?

“While in the library,” began Sam, “I saw a book that said that Uncle Taviare was one of the most successful inventors of 1999.” Now his mother had no way to escape this conversation.

“Taviare was a great man; he helped many people with his inventions,” admitted Sam’s mother.

“Then how come,” asked Sam, “after all these years, I never heard about this before?”

Before Sam could get an answer out of his mother, they arrived home, and somewhat rushed, Sam’s mother got out of the car to go back into the house.

Upon entering home, something felt very different, almost as if time had slowed down, and walking through the hallways was enigmatically depressing. As Sam turned the corner, he saw a shadow of a man sitting down. Peering into the room, Sam saw his father with his hands clutching his face. His father looked up and saw him there and just mumbled out, “Taviare is dead.”

Even though Sam rarely saw Uncle Taviare, Sam was still shocked by this news. Sam’s last impression of his uncle was an adventurous, convivial man, who always seemed to have the rights answers. Seeing his father still grave expression, Sam just walked to his room.

One month after this incident was Taviare’s funeral, which happened on a cloudy, rainy day. As Sam entered the church, he noticed several people he never knew before standing around the perimeters of the area. He recalled seeing the same thing in a movie called, “Alex Rider: Stormbreaker” and it was a good thing his uncle was not a secret spy, or was he? They took their seats, and Sam’s father took a seat next to Taviare’s wife. He saw her sobbing, but there was something else, but he quite could not put his finger on it.
“Taviare was a great man….” the priest started.

After the funeral, Taviare’s wife came over to Sam. “Taviare wanted you to have this.” She reached into her bag and handed him an envelope addressed to “Sam Brait.”
Then, she left abruptly without telling him what was in the envelope. Anxiously, Sam opened the letter. The first thing that caught his eye was undoubtedly in his uncle’s handwriting.

“Sam, no matter what you do, do not continue to read this letter in public, go back to your room to read this.” He closed the letter and stuffed it neatly in his pocket then started walking towards the car. As the door closed, one of the men standing around the perimeter whispered into the microphone disguised in his collar, “Taviare has made contact with Sam.”
Closing the door behind him, he pulled the letter out of his pocket and unfolded it.

“Sam, if you have found a safe and quiet spot, you may continue reading it. Now, I have to tell you something very important. Your father and I have our adventures ended since if you were to be reading this, then it must mean that somehow I got myself killed. But this is not the end for the Brait family, since we still have you.”

Sam read this repeatedly and at last moved on.

“Enclosed in this envelope is a picture to let you remember me, and your times with me. I do sincerely wish you the best. Time and time and time again keep the tradition alive. Now this may seem unusual but, NASA, ENRPC, ODA, AOD, SDI, ZAC, PLAN, SAC, PRC, PLA, MNI, MMBEI, and Boeing. These are all some organizations. That is all I need to say.”

Sam looked on the reverse, but there was no more writing. Very cautiously, Sam stored this away inside his favorite book, “I.Q.-Independence Hall.” Then he looked inside the envelope and saw a photograph. On the photograph was a young man with a joyful expression on his face, who Sam recognized as his father and next to him, was another youthful man holding up a young boy poised as a plane. It was Uncle Taviare holding up Sam, as a little tike. On the reverse of the photograph, in the same handwriting as the letter, and in red ink, it wrote, “Sometimes, Sam, what we need is hidden in what we do, as a hobby or as an everyday activity.” Sam thought to himself, “This is an intriguing mystery that I must solve.”

A couple years later, it was the summer of Sam’s junior year at M.I.T. Sam went over to Uncle Taviare’s house in order to help pack some things, since Savannah, Taviare’s wife, was moving away. “Sam, can you pick up that box over there,” requested Aunt Savannah.”

“No problem Aunt Savannah,” replied Sam. Sam walked over to a box, lifted it up with brute strength, and carried it over to the moving van. It was a sunny day outside, a nice day for playing, and birds were singing all around. A lot happened since Sam had last read the letter and had long forgotten about what had happened. Now he was studying to become an inventor taking after his uncle’s career, and was a few days away from his senior year in college. While loading the box, the tape fell off, so Sam had to get the packing tape, but before he did that, his curiosity got the better of him, and he looked inside the now-open package. Inside of the box was a cave-spelunking outfit, with the flashlight helmet, suit, and boots. Sam recalled Taviare and his father’s adventure of going to the Kugorian Caves, and when they discovered a crystal hybrid, which was a hybrid between a ruby, and quartz, which created an infusion that caused it to be able to have different properties such as phosphorescence, and almost being indestructible. Closing it up, Sam put some package tape on it and put it in the moving van. He was in the midst of his thoughts, as the moving van began to drive away and he mounted his bike and returned home.

It was time for Sam to go back to college and did so enthusiastically since he was going to be able to see his favorite professor again, Professor Anthony. Professor Anthony was the professor for technology and mechanics, some of Sam’s best interests.
It was only the senior year in college and Sam was already thinking about his job résumé. Sam was considering being a robotics engineer, or a computer engineer, but it did not really matter which one as long as he was an inventor. He was motivated to do so taking on his uncle’s career and doing it, but his father, who was in the career of being a lawyer, did not really approve.
After unpacking his items in his new dorm room, he looked out in the corridor and saw a young teen carrying four colossal boxes and lugging a luggage behind him with his heel.
“Hey. Do you need help,” asked Sam.

From behind the boxes, appeared a friendly face and asked, “Sam is that really you?”

After helping this person, and returning to the room, he faced Sam and said, “After all these years we still come back together. Remember elementary school?”

“Of course I do Oliver,” said Sam. “Who could forget the time that you accidentally poured water down Jasmine’s pants.”

There were many smiles and laughs as the conversation went on. The two friends finally united again after high school.

After class, Sam went over to Professor Anthony. “Hello Professor,” said Sam.

“It is nice to see you Samuel,” replied Professor Anthony. “I see that you have grown up a lot over the summer.”

“Professor,” began Sam, “Could you come over after teaching, I have an invention that I wish to show you.”

“Of course I will,” said Professor Anthony with a merry smile.

It was nearly afternoon when Professor Anthony came over. “Hello Samuel,” said Professor Anthony.

“Hello Professor,” Sam replied.

“What is it that you wish to show me,” asked Professor Anthony?

Sam gestured behind him and announced, “This is my new invention called the Memorecorder. It allows you to store a copy of your memories in it and view them again, or it helps you remember something.”

“Looks like a very fascinating thing Sam,” said Professor Anthony. “How does it work?”

“Well it sends a safe jolt of electricity to stimulate your mind, and during that space, a microchip that I designed myself stores all that information, but I am missing a power source,” said Sam.

The professor commented, “I hope you find the power source soon since I might be able to find some usage for this.”

The next day, Sam received a call from his mom. “Honey, your father is missing.”

Sam was inevitably very shocked about this. He saw Oliver starting to wake up. “What happened,” asked Sam?

“Your father was on a case in Russia when he went missing,” said Sam’s mother. “He never arrived at the court hearing.”

Now Sam was worried and told his mother not to worry. He said good-bye, hung up, and faced Oliver, who was now sitting upright, and said, “My father is missing.”

Sam had now graduated from M.I.T. and got a job as a mechanics engineer. His father is still missing, even with police on the hunt. Sam was busy designing a plan for finding the source of power for the Memorecorder when his boss called him over. “Yes Mr. Fenton,” asked Sam.

“Come into my office, someone is there to talk to you,” said Mr. Fenton. Sam followed Mr. Fenton out of his office and went into Mr. Fenton’s office. There was a photograph of a beautiful woman on his desk, probably his wife, a vase filled with flowers, and an organized stack of papers, but sitting in the rolling chair was Aunt Savannah.
“Hello Sam,” said Aunt Savannah in a joyful tone.
“Hello Aunt Savannah,” replied Sam.
“I will leave you two to your business,” interrupted Mr. Fenton.
“Sam,” said Aunt Savannah. “While going through my things the other day, I found this package addressed to you. Aunt Savannah pulled something from her purse and handed it to him. Sam was now holding a little package that had this clinking when he shook it. “I do hope you are well,” she continued. “Do not worry, they will find him soon.” And on that final note, she left.
Sam went back to his office, and sat down. He observed the package for any notes, and then opened it. Inside was a key. In addition, there was a note saying, “Time and time and time again keep the tradition alive.” Sam felt he had read this before and slipped both in his pocket.
After work, he returned to his apartment, which had not been furnished yet. He did set up a bookshelf though. While scanning the different levels his eyes came upon a very familiar title, “I.Q.-Independence Hall.” It used to be his favorite book, but now he rarely had time to read. He quickly flipped the pages and stopped abruptly when he saw a letter, which he recalled being from his Uncle Taviare. He read through it again and saw the same line, “Time and time and time again keep the tradition alive.”
Sam was wondering if there was any subliminal messages, then all of a sudden he recalled that Uncle Taviare lived at 3 Tyson Lane, hence the three “times”. Sam went to the basement, and got into his car, and since he felt he would need some help to solve this mystery, he drove to an old friend’s house.
Upon arriving and ringing the doorbell, Sam said, “Hello Oliver.” Over the past couple of years, Oliver had become a technician for CSI and trained for tracking. Not only that, but he had a brilliant mind for puzzles. After discussing the situation to Oliver, together they went to 3 Tyson Lane. When entering, it was strangely empty, with the shutters closed; it was a true horror movie scene. They searched around, and then Sam walked in to Uncle Taviare’s old study. Sam tried looking through the drawers of Taviare’s desk. When opening the last drawer, he heard a strange rattling. Sam called out, “Oliver get over here.” In came Oliver and together they checked the drawer. As they were feeling through the drawer, Sam felt a piece of paper, he peeled it off, and underneath was a string. Feeling that there was nothing else to do, he pulled it. It sounded like a mechanism had started running, and all of a sudden, out of the side a small box came out, and on top, there was a key hole.
“Hold on a second,” said Sam. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the key. He inserted it and turned the key, which resulted with a satisfying click. It opened up and inside was a crystal hybrid, Corvus Incantatum, named by his uncle.
“What is that,” asked Oliver?
“The source of energy for my Memorecorder,” replied Sam. Sam had just recalled the photograph, “Sometimes, Sam, what we need is hidden in what we do, as a hobby or as an everyday activity.” Sam then remembered Uncle Taviare and his father’s adventure searching inside the Kugorian Caves.
The duo returned to Sam’s apartment and entered the bedroom. In the corner was the Memorecorder, and Sam slid the crystal carefully into a metal capsule. “Oliver, you might want to back up,” recommended Sam. Without a second though, Oliver put a long distance between him and the machine. He switched it on and immediately the system made a weird sound and then only one sound echoed through the room.
“Systems are fully functional,” said the Memorecorder.
Sam looked at Oliver and gave the I-should-try-it-first-in-case look. He slid on the headband and adjusted it. He turned on the program and immediately felt a jolt go through his brain. In a burst of epiphany, he remembered the 13 organizations, the 13th being Boeing. In addition, there was the photograph of him being a plane. Lastly, the letter where it said that Uncle Taviare and Sam’s father’s adventures were over, but they still have him, and after removing the headband and shutting down the machine the one remaining thought in Sam’s head was that his adventure was to put this invention to good use, find his father, and become well known for this deed. Now alone he set out on a new adventure, and there was no turning back now. With a confidence in his stride, moonlight swimming on his face, and the Memorecorder in one hand, he entered his car and went to Boeing International since he felt there were more secrets hidden behind the wing.

The author's comments:
I wrote this piece as an assignment from school, and I just hope it can entertain the reader.

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