SevenSeeing the physicist’s exhaustion, D’Abro offered to take the wheel of his jeep and met no resistance. She grabbed an aluminum box from the trunk of her own car nearby, but now, sitting before the unfamiliar controls, she asked what sort of jeep this was. “It runs on algae,” Machuzak told her.
“Where do you tank up on that?”
“One of our guys built a pond at the lab. Algae produces biofuels ten, a hundred times more efficiently than grasses, so we’re trying to grow it in the car’s tank itself—but yeah, still no pump at the local station. Infrastructure takes time. No instant fixes.”
“No Mr. Fusion?” D’Abro smirked as she decoded the dashboard and they took off.
Machuzak was not only exhausted but famished. South of town, on the infinite field of fast-food and biodiesel signs that r
