Postsingular | Page 2

ammonium nitrate
fertilizer and powdered magnesium metal mixed into epoxy binder,
whoa." He hefted the rocket, peering up the beetle's butt at the
glittering, rubbery fuel. The carbon-fiber tube was stuffed like a
sausage casing.
"Here's to Lu-Tuc Space Tech!" said Carlos, peeling the foil off the
champagne cork. He'd liberated one of the bottles that Jeff 's mother
was using to make mimosas for herself and her boyfriend and Jeff 's
older sisters.
"Lu-Tuc forever," echoed Jeff. The boys dreamed of starting a
company some day. "It'll be awesome to track our nanochips across the
sky," Jeff continued. "Each one of them has a global positioning unit
and a broadcast antenna."
"They do so much," marveled Carlos.
"And I grew them like yeast," said Jeff. "In the right environment these
cute little guys can self-assemble. If you know the dark secrets of
robobiohackery, that is. And if you have the knack." He waggled his
long, knobby fingers. His nails were bitten to the quick.
"You're totally sure they're not gonna start reproducing themselves in
the air?" said Carlos, working his thumbs against the champagne cork.
"We don't want Lu-Tuc turning the world into rainbow goo."
"That won't happen yet," said Jeff and giggled. "Dammit."
"You're sick," said Carlos, meaning this as praise. The cork popped

loose, arcing high across the beach to meet its racing shadow.
It was Carlos's turn to giggle as the foam gushed over his hands. He
took a swig and offered the bottle to Jeff. Jeff waved him off, intent on
his future dreams.
"I see an astronomically large cloud of self-reproducing nanobots in
orbit around the sun," said Jeff. "They'll feed on space dust and solar
energy and carry out calculations too vast for earthbound machines."
"So that's what self-reproducing nanomachines are good for," said
Carlos.
"I'm gonna call them nants," said Jeff. "You like that?"
"Beautiful," said Carlos, jamming the launch rod into the sand a few
meters above the waterline. "I claim this kingdom for the nants."
Jeff slid the rocket down over the launch rod, threading the rod through
the five-inch metal tube glued to the rocket's side. He stuck an igniter
wire into the molded engine, secured the wire with wadding, and
attached the wire's loose ends to the ignition unit: a little box with an
antenna.
"The National Association of Rocketry says we should back off seven
hundred feet now," said Jeff, checking over their handiwork one last
time.
"Bogus," said Carlos. "I want to watch our big beetle go throbbing into
the air. We'll get behind that dune here and peek."
"Affirmative," said Jeff.
The boys settled onto the lee slope of a low dune and inched up until
they could peer over the crest at the gaudy fat tube. Carlos dug a little
hole in the sand to steady the champagne bottle. Jeff took out his cell
phone. The launch program was idling on the screen, cycling through a
series of clock and map displays.

"You can really see the jetliners on that blue map?" asked Carlos, his
handsome face gilded by the setting sun.
"You bet. Good thing, too. We'll squirt up our rocket when there's a gap
in the traffic. Like a bum scuttling across a freeway."
"What's the cluster of red dots on that next map?"
"Those are the nanochips in the rocket's tip. At apogee, the nose cone
blows off and the dots scatter."
"Awesome," said Carlos. "The beetle shoots his wad. Maybe we should
track down some of those nanochips after they land."
"We go visit some guy in the Sunset district, and we're, like,
congratulations, a Lu-Tuc nant is idling in your driveway!" said Jeff,
his homely face wreathed in smiles.
"Gosh, Mr. Luty, can I drive it to work?" riffed Carlos, sounding like
an earnest wage earner. "You got a key?"
"Here comes a gap in the planes," said Jeff.
"Go," answered Carlos, his face calm and dreamy.
"T minus one hundred twenty seconds," said Jeff, punching in a control
code. In two minutes the phone would signal the ignition unit.
Only now, damn, here came a ponytailed woman jogging along the
beach with a dog. And of course she had to stop by the rocket and spot
the boys. Jeff paused the countdown.
"What are you doing?" asked the woman, her voice like a dentist's drill.
"Do you have permission for this?"
"It's just a little toy rocket kit I got for Christmas," called Carlos.
"Totally legit, ma'am. No problem. Happy New Year."
"Well--you two be careful," said the woman. "Don't set off that thing

while I'm around. Hey, come here, Guster!" Her dog had lifted his leg
to squirt pee onto the rocket's side. Embarrassed now, the woman
jogged off.
"Bounce, bounce, bounce," said Carlos loud enough for her to hear,