Page 15 of When Sinners Fear
He turns and grins. “So, what’s your poison?”
“I don’t drink, given that I’m underage; you can’t have forgotten our conversation the other night?” He doesn’t answer but gives me a condescending look.
“You've never tried?”
I shake my head. “Only a sip of beer. I didn't like it.”
“You’ll need something sweeter. With a mixer to drown it.”
“I’d like to try a whiskey. You had one the other night.”
“Starting with the hard stuff? Well, I certainly won’t get in your way. I doubt the collection on offer is much good, but we can work up to that.”
The bar area isn’t very spacious, but there is one other couple in here. Knox goes to order, but I hang back a step or two, a little embarrassed and very nervous about being served alcohol and being under twenty-one.
A few moments later, Knox hands me a short tumbler glass filled with ice and a splash of dark liquid in the bottom.
“One whiskey on the rocks.” He has the same drink in his hand.
“On the rocks, indicating the ice?” I surmise.
“Yeah. Neat whiskey in the afternoon isn’t a habit I’d recommend for you, even if it might be fun to watch.”
He’s making fun of me, but I don’t say anything. Instead, I take a sniff, followed by a sip of the drink. It’s cool as it hits my lips, but as I swallow the small mouthful, the smoky tang and strong taste hits and burns my throat. I try not to cough but fail and feel stupid in front of him.
He chuckles. “Not what you were hoping for?”
“I don’t know what I was expecting, but it isn’t this stripping, numbing feeling in my throat.”
“It’s better with a higher quality product. This is just cheap whiskey, Peyton. You might feel better with the good stuff.”
I take another sip and see if I can get used to it, and it is better than the first sip. The alcohol warms my chest.
“Come on. Let’s take a look at the rest of the exhibition.”
“Wait, what about our drinks?” I hold onto the glass with both hands.
“We can take them with us.” Knox puts his arm around my back and gently coaxes me from the bar area. It feels … nice.
“Can you imagine working on one of these?” He points at the desk set up with the Datapoint 2200, drink still in his hand like it lives there.
“It doesn’t scream personal computer. And I’m sure most people would have to invest in glasses to be able to read anything off the tiny screen. I bet the keyboard was good, though.” I note the chunky keys and see the similarities between this and my gaming keyboard. “Let’s go to the Tesla coil.”
“You say Tesla, and I think of a Model S car.”
“Well, sure. Now. We all forget about the work that people put in. It’s all around here.” I turn around and point to the glass cases with the history of science all around.
The place is dark for a museum, with vibrant neon lights to showcase each exhibit. With the whiskey still in hand, we head to the tall towers and watch as other people gather around. Someone from the museum is presumably talking about what we’re about to see. And then, a chorus of “ahs” as the coil sparks lightning into the air.
“It’s pretty amazing,” I muse.
“The lightning effect?” Knox asks.
“Yeah. Science, or at least physics, can be all about numbers and equations. Lines on a board of a theory with no tangible answer. It’s good to be able to see a physical and beautiful thing as a result of physics.
The coil charges and another display of lightning disperses into the air. “Did you know that this work led to experiments including X-ray development and electrotherapy?” I turn to him, but it feels a little funny as my head moves. Lightheaded.
He grins at me. “I didn’t know that. Math is my thing. While I appreciate science and know more about it than most, I don’t believe it’s my strongest suit compared to you.”