Wright Place At The Wright Time [Nate/Kat]

Time is distorted in youth. An hour seems a day, a day a week, a week a month, a month a year, and a year infinity, an inevitable but far distant future. Childhood is built around dreaming, scheming grand plans and laying out the schematics of life, a play by play for each milestone, and how, when that sweet moment finally comes to pass it will be decidedly perfect. At thirteen no one considers pitfalls and setbacks. No one considers that life in itself is transitory and ever changing. Ideas that seemed so perfectly obvious and easy present their impossibility when the harsh reality of maturation is reached. Time that was once readily available for countless hours of dreaming is spent on living, really living. With age time tears off its mask, and rears its ugly head of truth. Time is short, time is fleeting, and with all the responsibilities in a busy world, time to oneself is a most precious prize, sought after wildly but only attained on rare, sweet occasions. Dreams of youth are pushed back a year, then another, and so very often fade into obscurity. Only those most persistent, most determined can dream and live simultaneously, and fight to bring both crashing into one another, to make dreams a reality.

Nathan Driscoll had been one of those people. In another life he, along with his brother, had with a dream and determination made the impossible a reality, they had invented the airplane. It seemed in the very least, that much of that persistent spirit had carried over into this life. If he could invent the airplane, why could not he, of all people, make other things fly? Some three years ago the idea had come into his mind to invent the first flying car. Of course, he had not been the first to imagine the idea. He had poured over science journals, reading up on the progress other prospective inventors had made. He saw one vehicle that looked like a rocket, some sort of plane and car hybrid. It had the ability to hover, and though it seemed a great advancement to the scientific community, in Nathan’s eyes, it simply fell short.

Of course he was fully aware it had taken many years and many failures before he and Orville had invented a successful airplane, but at least in this endeavour, he was sure to have an advantage. He spent nearly all of his life reading up on the advancements made to his and his brother’s initial design. He had built numerous miniature working models of airplanes from scratch (and the lack of space in his bedroom back home lay testament to it). Thus, when the idea first came to him at thirteen to be the first man to invent a successful flying car that actually flew, it seemed quite easy. He would use his substantial knowledge of aeronautics to build it, starting small with working models until finally working up to the real thing. He was certain by the time he was twenty he would present his fully functional flying car to the scientific community, and have his name put down in the history books for the second time around.

But as it had proven to all young dreamers, time passed much more quickly than initially anticipated. Nathan was sixteen now, and was nowhere near to testing his ideas on real cars. Of course, he had taken some time off from his daunting project when his mother had passed, but even so, he had hoped to be further along than he was. He persistence came and went with waves of depression, and with a disheartening feeling, he resigned himself to the fact, that all of his prior experience gave him only the smallest edge over his competition. Advancements in aeronautics were great, and he knew that. Though however much he may have read on newer models of airplanes, he was no closer to actually working on a real one. Perhaps that was the most major of his many reasons as to why he had not come that far.

Still, he had no intentions of giving up, however frustrating it might be. Though he thought it may have been easier were his brother around to work with him again. But that in itself was a most impossible dream. Orville, had he even been reincarnated at all, could be anywhere in the world, much older or much younger than Nathan was. He was on his own this time. It gave him a bit of hope that in these three years he had managed to start testing on remote control cars. Even though it was not two tons of metal with 300 horsepower, it was better than a drawing in a notebook, and thus was a push forward. Yet it seemed, that at this point, Nathan was stuck on the remote control cars. He had picked up a new tester at the mall in Riverdale some two weeks ago, and had begun to toy with it, taking it apart and rebuilding it based on the designs in his notebook. This was a heavier car than his previous testers, and up until this point, he had barely managed to keep it in the air for longer than a minute.

Not quite certain how the school would feel about him testing his cars in the hallways, especially now that they were getting larger, Nathan had attempted another generally unsuccessful flight on the grounds. His car nearly meeting a completely mangled end as it lost altitude too close to a tree branch. One of the wings he had attached to it ripped off, and the propeller (which he had been unable to retrieve) still remained lodged in the tree. So picking up the wreckage of his vehicle Nathan headed back to his dorm, the broken wing and his notebook tucked under his arm. Perhaps before starting any homework he would draw up new plans for modifications, and spend the weekend rebuilding the car. With any luck his roommates would be out. Odd enough as he seemed to most people, he did not particularly desire odd looks from the people he had to live with because of his peculiar hobbies. He had yet to show either of the boys in his dorm his remodeled cars, trying to keep his closet obsession with aeronautics a secret. Most often if anyone asked when he was drawing up schematics for his cars, he told them it was for a class. Usually the subject was dropped at that. He supposed if any of his roommates asked, he could say he collected remote control cars as a hobby, so long as they did not see the wings on them.

Guessing his dorm would still be empty now, Nathan pushed the door open with much difficulty, kicking it shut as he fumbled to get a grip on all the pieces of his car. Unbeknownst to him, his notebook slipped out of his grasp and onto the floor as he hurried to get a better hold on the broken wing as it slipped from his grasp. So determined with getting the car put away as quickly as possible, he did not immediately notice that he was not alone, though when he did. “Oh…uh…hi.” He looked over at his roommate, Oliver Winchester, a freshman. He had papers strewn out about him, and a notebook open, leading Nathan to assume he was working on homework. Nathan glanced awkwardly from side to side, wondering how he could explain himself. If he had worked so hard to keep his roommates from finding him strange, he would have certainly failed now. He shuffled slightly to the side, hoping Oliver would not elaborate on the car in his arms. Though Oliver himself seemed to have his own oddities, Nathan was not particularly keen on sharing his, especially after his experiment had just failed.