"Look, Mr Andross," A small, bald and bespectacled man stuttered, looking across a small office desk to a much more confident looking man - short cut, spiked black hair matching with his long dark coat - all of which was topped off by a black shirt, black pants and black shoes. The only thing not black about him was his expression. He watched the guy in front of him with a simple smile on his face and leaned forward in his chair.
"No, listen Mister Benner, My mind is made up. As my financial advisor I'm telling you that I want to do this with my money. I'm not paying you tell me not to do it, I'm not paying you to tell me I shouldn't do it. I'm paying you to do it for me and do it right."
He sat back, Mr Benner sighing and looking to his desk and back up with a pained expression.
"I'm telling you it can't be done, Mr Andross. What you're asking for is litterally impossible." He looked back down to the papers on his desk, fiddling with them before pushing a couple across face up to his client.
"You simply cannot have your spacecraft. I'm sorry."
Mr Andross leaned over further and inspected his own papers, detailing plans and financial arrangements for his personal dream - an operational space craft.
"It can be done. It will be done. And you'll get it done. Don't come back to me until you've spent my money and gotten NASA on side."
He stood up, pushed the papers back to Mr Brenner and turned back out the door, leaving his advisor with nothing more than a sigh.
Nevertheless, within minutes the small, bald, bespectacled man had his phone in one hand and Mr Andross' plans in the other....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mr Andross was no mere man though. He was David Andross, multi-googolaire. Born with an inheritance of his millionaire father and with the intelligence of a hundred Einsteins. At the age of 12 he was already using the internet to play the StockMarket. By 17 he was a billionaire. By 19 he invested his entire fortune and became a trillionaire. After investing that again and winning big time once more, David Andross was worth more money than banks would count by the age of 23.
With a literal infinite wealth, David Andross, who at 25 had just left the offices of Mr Alan Brenner, had no dream other than to live among the stars.
He'd seen Mir and the International Space Station put into space and was also one of the first space Tourists but it wasn't enough, none of it was. He knew that people like NASA could do so much more if only they had the money. He did.
It was another 6 months before NASA finally accepted his offer to build a functioning Space Craft, the equivilent of a huge ocean liner floating in space.
At 29 he was in Cape Canaveral, looking down on a mile high platform at a huge ship below him. It was sleek and designed with both looks and functionality in mind. Huge engines gave it an effective set of wings at the side, whilst more massive thrusters at the back gave it a tail.
At the head was a plane-like beak for the bridge - 2 and a half miles away from the bottom of the back thrusters.
The ship was coated white - as all NASA ships were - and had a blank space on the bough with tape all over it - the name lying underneath it.
"....My Baby...." David muttered softly, a smile on his face and tears in his eyes.
"Mr Andross?" David turned around to find a group of suits standing behind him, the leading one standing with his hand extended and a bunch of files under arm.
"Yes?" He answered, taking the other man's hand and shaking it firmly.
"My name is John Fox, I'm your liason to Home Base and the director of your mission."
The hands suddenly parted and David was left looking puzzled into this John Fox's eyes.
"Mission?"
"Oh yes," He said, quite blazé, taking the files and shoving them into David's hands.
"The contract you signed when we took up this offer made it very clear that we would only put our own investment into this if we got what we wanted from it too."
David thumbed through the incomphrenisble papers of gibberish and looked back up.
"And what is that?"
"Oh, nothing more than making sure this thing actually stays up there."
Fox shrugged innocently before slipping in one more clause.
"Oh, and putting our men on new planets, of course."
This left David stunned. "Your men?"
"Well, of course. You'll need a crew up there to run that thing. And you'll need men that are trained to do so. And at that, you'll be taking that hunk of metal and heading out to never-before visited planets and making history in the name of the United States."
Fox had his papers thrust back into his chest as David stormed past him, the suits all following.
"I don't want to be an explorer. I just want to live among the stars."
"And that you shall do." Fox acknowledged.
"But, how can I do that if I get hassled by your lot to go 'exploring'?" He questioned angrily as the whole group strolled down the corridors.
"I assure you, you will not be hassled. You can take things at your own leisurely pace."
"And what if all I do is float about in orbit?"
They stopped. Fox looked right into David's eyes and made clear he was being firm and unplacable.
"You will be asked to do these things for us. You will be given a wide time frame. You will have full control of your ship." He took a step forward, done reassuring and more interested in asserting instead.
"But if you fail to do what we ask you, we will bring you down. We didn't put our own money into this, just our time and knowledge. Fail to comply at all and we will shoot you down."
Fox took a step back and patted himself down. "Afterall, there's no worries of nuclear pollution in a vacumn, is there?"
Nodding to the suits following, he thrust the files back into David's hands and headed off past him, leaving David with his papers and his words.
"Fine. I'll take your poxy crew with me..." Shifting the files under his arm, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a piece of folded paper.
"But i'll take my own too." He looked down to the paper he just unfolded and took another gander at his own poster advertising for an adventurous crew of people looking to join him on his journey. Instead of special expertise, he was looking for a group of enthusiastic people to go on the ship for the same reason as him.
He would make sure that this dream would be just as he wanted it and just how others had wanted their dreams to be. The fact these posters would be appearing in every single publication the world over next week emphasised this more than anything....
"No, listen Mister Benner, My mind is made up. As my financial advisor I'm telling you that I want to do this with my money. I'm not paying you tell me not to do it, I'm not paying you to tell me I shouldn't do it. I'm paying you to do it for me and do it right."
He sat back, Mr Benner sighing and looking to his desk and back up with a pained expression.
"I'm telling you it can't be done, Mr Andross. What you're asking for is litterally impossible." He looked back down to the papers on his desk, fiddling with them before pushing a couple across face up to his client.
"You simply cannot have your spacecraft. I'm sorry."
Mr Andross leaned over further and inspected his own papers, detailing plans and financial arrangements for his personal dream - an operational space craft.
"It can be done. It will be done. And you'll get it done. Don't come back to me until you've spent my money and gotten NASA on side."
He stood up, pushed the papers back to Mr Brenner and turned back out the door, leaving his advisor with nothing more than a sigh.
Nevertheless, within minutes the small, bald, bespectacled man had his phone in one hand and Mr Andross' plans in the other....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mr Andross was no mere man though. He was David Andross, multi-googolaire. Born with an inheritance of his millionaire father and with the intelligence of a hundred Einsteins. At the age of 12 he was already using the internet to play the StockMarket. By 17 he was a billionaire. By 19 he invested his entire fortune and became a trillionaire. After investing that again and winning big time once more, David Andross was worth more money than banks would count by the age of 23.
With a literal infinite wealth, David Andross, who at 25 had just left the offices of Mr Alan Brenner, had no dream other than to live among the stars.
He'd seen Mir and the International Space Station put into space and was also one of the first space Tourists but it wasn't enough, none of it was. He knew that people like NASA could do so much more if only they had the money. He did.
It was another 6 months before NASA finally accepted his offer to build a functioning Space Craft, the equivilent of a huge ocean liner floating in space.
At 29 he was in Cape Canaveral, looking down on a mile high platform at a huge ship below him. It was sleek and designed with both looks and functionality in mind. Huge engines gave it an effective set of wings at the side, whilst more massive thrusters at the back gave it a tail.
At the head was a plane-like beak for the bridge - 2 and a half miles away from the bottom of the back thrusters.
The ship was coated white - as all NASA ships were - and had a blank space on the bough with tape all over it - the name lying underneath it.
"....My Baby...." David muttered softly, a smile on his face and tears in his eyes.
"Mr Andross?" David turned around to find a group of suits standing behind him, the leading one standing with his hand extended and a bunch of files under arm.
"Yes?" He answered, taking the other man's hand and shaking it firmly.
"My name is John Fox, I'm your liason to Home Base and the director of your mission."
The hands suddenly parted and David was left looking puzzled into this John Fox's eyes.
"Mission?"
"Oh yes," He said, quite blazé, taking the files and shoving them into David's hands.
"The contract you signed when we took up this offer made it very clear that we would only put our own investment into this if we got what we wanted from it too."
David thumbed through the incomphrenisble papers of gibberish and looked back up.
"And what is that?"
"Oh, nothing more than making sure this thing actually stays up there."
Fox shrugged innocently before slipping in one more clause.
"Oh, and putting our men on new planets, of course."
This left David stunned. "Your men?"
"Well, of course. You'll need a crew up there to run that thing. And you'll need men that are trained to do so. And at that, you'll be taking that hunk of metal and heading out to never-before visited planets and making history in the name of the United States."
Fox had his papers thrust back into his chest as David stormed past him, the suits all following.
"I don't want to be an explorer. I just want to live among the stars."
"And that you shall do." Fox acknowledged.
"But, how can I do that if I get hassled by your lot to go 'exploring'?" He questioned angrily as the whole group strolled down the corridors.
"I assure you, you will not be hassled. You can take things at your own leisurely pace."
"And what if all I do is float about in orbit?"
They stopped. Fox looked right into David's eyes and made clear he was being firm and unplacable.
"You will be asked to do these things for us. You will be given a wide time frame. You will have full control of your ship." He took a step forward, done reassuring and more interested in asserting instead.
"But if you fail to do what we ask you, we will bring you down. We didn't put our own money into this, just our time and knowledge. Fail to comply at all and we will shoot you down."
Fox took a step back and patted himself down. "Afterall, there's no worries of nuclear pollution in a vacumn, is there?"
Nodding to the suits following, he thrust the files back into David's hands and headed off past him, leaving David with his papers and his words.
"Fine. I'll take your poxy crew with me..." Shifting the files under his arm, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a piece of folded paper.
"But i'll take my own too." He looked down to the paper he just unfolded and took another gander at his own poster advertising for an adventurous crew of people looking to join him on his journey. Instead of special expertise, he was looking for a group of enthusiastic people to go on the ship for the same reason as him.
He would make sure that this dream would be just as he wanted it and just how others had wanted their dreams to be. The fact these posters would be appearing in every single publication the world over next week emphasised this more than anything....
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