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Writer Nathan Bishope
  • G: General Audiences
  • PG: Parental Guidance Suggested
  • PG-13: Parents Strongly Cautioned
  • R: Restricted
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The Price of Ideas
Nathan Bishope
Sep 14, 2017
4 Mins Read
No Plagiarism!DDT6NEpqJbspAAQnQMGqposted on PENANA
“Please turn your hymnals to page 109 to sing Come and Dine. God is calling us to come and dine with him at his sweet table, those who are weary come even as we sing.” It was just another cool bright Saturday morning worship service. My sermon I had written the night before was incomplete, as I had fell asleep writing it. As I stood behind the podium I looked across the crowd with an exuberant and intent look on their faces as they looked at me. It was a look that was saying, “when do we start?” I then after a two minute pause bowed my head and prayed that the Lord would finish the words that were missing on the page in front of me. After I said amen, it was like some one turned on a projector with we should be ready to lay down out wants and help those around us in need, plastered on it. I started with a bible verse and stated, "Just as Jesus, our Savior, gave his life for you and me, we need be ready to give our lives for others." What I did not know was that the Lord was preparing me for the time that was to come. 
That night after a delicious supper of spaghetti and meatballs, we all sat down on a golden couch with flower designs in front of our TV that was mounted on the wall above the fireplace. We pulled up a creation video as we usually did on Saturday nights. Just as the microwave beeped signifying that the popcorn was done, I head a knock on the door.
“Who would be here now daddy,” Jewell asked with her blue eyes looking at me confused.
“I don’t know, Jewell.”
I opened the door that had been there so many years to see pair of men in black suits. They were from the FBI and that they were there to inspect my latest machine to secure it for a US patent. 
"Mr. Reynolds. I am Jack McCullum and this is my partner Michael Short, we are from the Federal Bureau of Investigation. May we see your Electro-Matter converter?"
“Sorry, I don’t do business on the weekends gentleman,” I said sarcastically. I continued, “Anyways when did the FBI start going around bothering private inventors about their inventions? After all, the patents office never said that they would send anyone. I have to ask you to leave my land." I started to wonder what how these people had found out about what I had been working on for the past five months in my shop. The electro-matter converter was designed so that I could try to make a replicator like off of the starship enterprise on Star Trek.
As soon as they turned to their large black SUV, the one named Jack stopped two feet from the door on the porch and he said, "John, never forget, Justice will be served for the death. Those you love for the one who I loved. This is the true reason why I came here." As they walked to their car, I was shocked, so shocked that I stood there with the stark realization that Jack was still alive. 
As soon as they sped down my driveway, my wife, Angela appeared out of the bathroom in her flowing blue gown wondering who was at the door.
"Just someone who was lost," I said.
She looked at me with her electric blue eyes and said, "John, is everything alright?"
We moved into my office to talk. Her look told me that she knew the seriousness of the situation. I then told her the story of Jack McCullum as I knew it. "Jack was the head of the Arachna Project and designed suits for repair for Synolvia's research space station, Beta. That was about the time that the Western Rebellion had started. When Dalton launched his plane, the Sparrow, the president of America launched an attack on Synolvia Co. Dalton had been asleep onboard the Sparrow. We called him to see if he had survived the barrage that was aimed at the Sparrow. After we did not receive any response from him, we sent a rescue mission composing of about four astronauts that was hit by another barrage of antiaircraft missles. Jack and his wife, Lara survived and made it to the Sparrow. They joined Dalton as his new crew and then while trying to cover for him, they were both wounded badly. They both were said to have died in space, but it seems that Jack made it.”
She returned with a fear-filled question, "What are you going to do?"
I sat there, and the air was so thick with tension that you could slice it with a knife. I thought about what I was going to do, and then I knew what it was. I thought about My wife and the years that we had been married, and then I thought of Jewell this afternoon when her brown, straight hair shone in the afternoon sun that was filtered through the trees, and her electric blue eyes. I would miss her and her mother. They looked so much alike.

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