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Peter Lonigan -- "that imperious, pompous ass Peter" behind his back -- pulled his Lexus into the slot next to the antique Goldwing. He frowned at it, considering it an ostentatious symbol of a wasteful and self-destructive era. It didn't help that the owner of the bike, and the mansion, bragged about how it still ran on fossil fuels.
He pressed the rocker switch and cut the electric drive, frowning again at the strange invitation he had received from Doctor James Hawking; great-grand-nephew to the famous Hawking.
Why did that flighty, scatter-brained idiot invite me here, he asked himself. What damned fool thing has he done? What working model of what new principle? If he tries to show me any proof of a flying saucer I'll have him cashiered. Tenure or no tenure.
He went around the back, to the patio, as he had been directed to. Hawking was waiting, seated at the wrought iron table. "Ah, there you are!" he exclaimed, the jovial host; even though he'd coined Lonigan's nickname.
"What's this about, Hawking? I don't have time for foolishness."
"Of course you don't; pity you never could differentiate between what is foolish and what isn't. But, come inside," he said expansively, ignoring the look of fury. "I've something positively amazing to show you. Positively amazing!" he repeated, leaping to his feet.
He ushered Lonigan toward the french doors and Hawking's House of Horrors. A monicker bestowed by the construction crews who had built it. Lonigan had heard the stories of course. It was what he'd expected. "Good God, Hawking, so you've built a house based on an Escher print. So what?"
Hawking laughed. "Oh, that jumping to conclusions on superficial examination of the evidence. That's what makes you the life of the party." He turned and shouted, "Galeena, honey! Come to Daddy!"
Now what, Lonigan thought, is he up to? Why is he in such a good mood? Then his mouth fell open and he stared in shock. Hawking's daughter came running down the stairs, waving a book, looking up at them.
"Daddy, Daddy! I read a Berenstain Bears book by myself!" Lonigan watched, incredulous, as she walked on what, to his visual orientation, was the risers instead of the steps, her body flat to the ground. When she got to the bottom she jumped off, landing on her feet in front of them, now upright. Hawking hugged her tightly.
"Good for you!" He let her go. "Well, Lonigan? Surprised? 'Course you are. Come outside again and I'll demonstrate." He dragged the unresisting physicist back to the patio and to a platform at one end, and right up onto it. "Now then, don't fall down, I'm activating the gravity plating on that platform and you'll experience a doubling in weight. Just stand still and don't try to move around."
Lonigan did feel himself get heavier, then Hawking manipulated the controls and the platform rotated, but Lonigan's orientation remained toward the floor. Even when he was 45 degrees to the ground.
"You've always smirked at me, haven't you, Lonigan?" Hawking grinned evilly. "You've always sneered at the cutting edge and mocked what you didn't understand. The perfect empty-headed belittler, eh? Where's your mockery now, Lonigan? Oh, I've waited a long time for this."
Lonigan's astonishment was slowly replaced by dread. "What do you mean? What are you going to do?"
"Do? Why, take my revenge! I've put up with your jackass braying for far too long! You've tried to turn my own staff against me, tried to poison the board of directors against me, tried to get my research grants appropriated for yourself -- called me a fool and a dreamer in public!" he finished, yelling at his victim. "Well, it's payback time, Lonigan," he continued quietly, threateningly. "You see, the gravity plating can undergo a polarity reversal so that what is attracted can be repulsed instead." Lonigan paled. "Naturally, even you can see that it would mean whatever was in the field of affect would essentially be falling upward, and field affect will reduce in accordance with the inverse square law, until natural gravity once more reasserts. The field affect can also be intensified or reduced. At the moment, I can achieve an intensity of five gees.
He grinned wolfishly again. "If you'll look over your left shoulder and slightly overhead, you'll notice that I've got the platform pointed toward the lake. It's a good thing that you were on your college swim team; ISN'T IT?!" His hand slammed down on a large button, then he laughed mightily at the way his victim's scream dopplered in pitch.
That imperious, pompous ass Peter, he decided, makes a lovely splash.