I left him. Just walked into the living room and left him.
If he was making it up, he was quite an actor. If he was telling the truth, then Chet was right—he was a coward.
Either way, I didn’t want to be anywhere near him.
I stood beside my father and tried to follow his discussion with Chet about something they’d both read in the paper.
My father was saying, “But what he’s proposing would require a perpetual-motion machine, so it’s not possible.”
Chet replied, “Maybe in the context of what scientists know now, but do you rule it out completely?”
At that moment I was feeling absolutely no scientific curiosity.
But in a desperate attempt to block Bryce Loski from my mind, I asked, “What’s a perpetual-motion machine?”
My father and Chet glanced at each other, chuckled, then shrugged, giving me the sense that they’d just agreed to let me into a secret club.
My father explained, “It’s a machine that runs without any external power source.”
No electricity, no fuel, no water propulsion, nothing.
Chet glanced over my shoulder and asked rather absently, “You think that’s a doable thing?”
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