Chapter 4: Rick's Invention (Part 1)

Morning light spilled over the farm, painting the fields in hues of gold and green. Pete had been awake for hours, his routine well underway. The rhythmic creak of the hoe as it struck the earth accompanied him as he worked the field, planting turnip seeds row by row. Despite the physical labor, his mind wandered. His dreams still clung to him like a shadow, but he pushed them aside, focusing instead on the tasks at hand.

A low, disgruntled sound pulled him from his thoughts. He turned to see one of his cows, a large brown one, ripping up chunks of grass by the roots, its broad tongue lazily dragging clumps of earth into its mouth.

Pete stopped what he was doing, resting his hoe against the ground. "Seriously?" he muttered under his breath.

The cow gave him a blank look before returning to its destructive meal.

Pete sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the frustration rise. The cows were supposed to graze gently, trimming the grass, not tearing it out completely. He knew what this meant—he'd have to reseed the pasture, and that meant another trip to Flowerbud Village. The very thought made his stomach tighten. Grass seeds weren't cheap, and with Lillia's tendency to overcharge him, it would be a costly endeavor.

"Of course," he grumbled. "Just what I needed."

As Pete approached the cow, waving his arms to shoo it toward the other side of the pasture, he heard the faint sound of footsteps behind him. Turning, he saw a familiar figure making his way down the dirt path toward the farm.

It was Rick. His friend. His only true friend in the village. Although Pete suspects that his friendship is more akin to a lab partner than kinship.

Rick was a young man with a mop of messy orange-blonde hair and goggles that perched precariously on the bridge of his nose. Rick was the owner of the item shop, though calling him a shopkeeper felt like a bit of a stretch. The store was more often closed than open, its windows perpetually shrouded by drawn curtains and a crooked "Back in 5 Minutes" sign that hadn't been flipped in hours—or sometimes days.

It wasn't that Rick didn't care about running the shop; he just had other priorities. Rick fancied himself an inventor, a self-taught tinkerer with grand dreams of revolutionizing farming and daily life in Flowerbud Village. His small workshop in the back of the shop was littered with half-finished gadgets, sketches sprawled across the counters, and the occasional whiff of singed metal from a recent failed experiment.

To Rick, the shop was more of a necessary means to fund his real passion: creating tools and devices to simplify everyday tasks. His enthusiasm for invention was undeniable, but his execution often left something to be desired. More than once, a prototype meant to streamline fieldwork had ended in small explosions or, in one memorable instance, the accidental release of a flock of chickens into the town square.

While his intentions were good, the people of Flowerbud Village weren't always as forgiving. They relied on Rick's shop for essentials, and his frequent absences—or his distracted demeanor when he was there—were a source of growing frustration.

"Does he think we can all wait around for him to finish playing mad scientist?" Cliff had grumbled after finding the shop closed yet again.

Still, Rick had his loyal supporters. Those who knew him better saw his potential and the genuine desire behind his inventions. He wasn't trying to shirk his responsibilities; he genuinely believed his gadgets could make life easier for everyone.

For Rick, the shop wasn't his purpose—it was his safety net. His real dreams lay in the sparks of his soldering iron, the clinking of gears, and the promise of innovation. The challenge was convincing the rest of the village to see it the same way. Until then, he remained a polarizing figure, both admired and begrudged for his relentless pursuit of a brighter, easier tomorrow.

"Morning, Pete!" Rick called, raising a hand in greeting.

Pete gave a small nod, his usual reserved nature keeping his response brief. "Morning."

Rick jogged the rest of the way over, setting the crate down with a thud. "Looks like you're having a bit of trouble," he said, glancing at the offending cow with an amused chuckle.

Pete crossed his arms, his tone flat. "It's tearing up the pasture... again. I'll have to reseed the pstches of bare dirt on the pasture again."

Rick whistled low. "Ouch. Grass seeds aren't cheap."

"No kidding," Pete muttered as he returned to work.

Rick adjusted his goggles with an eager grin as he approached Pete, practically bouncing with excitement. "Pete! You won't believe it. I've finally perfected my teleportation device! This time, it's flawless!"

Pete let out a heavy sigh, gripping his hoe tightly as he muttered, "Of course you have." He tried to focus on his work, but Rick's unrelenting enthusiasm hovered like a persistent fly.

Rick oblivious to Pete's lack of interest continues, "I know what you're thinking! But I promise, the fourth version will be a game changer! This is the one, Pete! The one that'll revolutionize farming and transportation forever!"

Pete paused and leaned on the handle of his hoe, squinting at Rick. "Is this the same teleportation device that, not too long ago, took an hour to move something three feet?"

Rick's grin faltered for a moment. "Well, yes, but—"

"And the same device that froze the item in a block of solid ice the second time around?" Pete pressed.

"That was… a minor temperature regulation issue," Rick admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

"And the one after that?" Pete continued. "What was it? Made the thing grow five times its size on the other end?"

Rick's face turned a little red. "Okay, sure, that happened. But those were all necessary steps in the learning process! It's science, Pete. Trial and error."

Pete couldn't help himself; a dry smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "You know, Rick, I can walk two miles in an hour carrying whatever I need. Seems like a pretty unreliable system."

Rick frowned, clearly unimpressed by Pete's joke. "Fine, mock all you want, but this time it's different. The calculations are perfect. The tests were flawless." He beamed with confidence. "I can teleport an item across the farm instantly. No freezing, no growing, no shrinking, no waiting. Perfectly intact."

Pete glanced down at the torn up patches of grass at his feet, then at the distant horizon where Flowerbud Village lay waiting. He wasn't in a hurry to make the trip, especially not with the tension he'd already experienced there. "Fine," he said, setting the hoe against the fence. "Show me."

Rick's face lit up like a lantern. "You won't regret this, Pete. Prepare to have your mind blown!"

Rick led Pete to the base of the mountain, chattering enthusiastically the entire way about the improvements he had made to the teleportation device. Pete trailed behind, his gaze flicking nervously toward the mountain's peak. The sight of it always unsettled him, dredging up memories he worked very hard to bury. Even now, the air felt heavier here, the grass underfoot a little too familiar.

"Relax, Pete," Rick said, glancing over his shoulder. "We're not going up the mountain. Just… close to it."

Pete nodded but didn't reply. He kept his focus on the contraption ahead of them, sitting in the middle of a wide field of grass. The teleportation machine was larger than he had expected, its size rivaling some of the buildings in the village. A tangled mess of cables snaked across the ground, connected to blinking panels with buttons, knobs, and levers. The thing looked like something you would find in a sci-fi movie.

Rick spread his arms wide, as if unveiling a masterpiece. "What do you think?"

Pete tilted his head, skeptical but grudgingly impressed. "Looks… complicated."

"It's not just complicated—it's genius," Rick said, puffing his chest out. "I've fine-tuned every parameter to perfection. This isn't some prototype like before. This is the teleportation machine, Pete. The one that's going to change everything."

Rick walked over to a small basket sitting next to the machine, pulling out a ripe tomato. Its red skin gleamed in the sunlight. "Alright, watch closely," Rick said, placing the tomato onto one of the machine's two platforms.

Pete crossed his arms, his skepticism still firmly in place. "This better not blow up or turn into a watermelon."

Rick ignored the comment, his fingers flying over the machine's controls. He pushed buttons, twisted knobs, and adjusted sliders with the precision of a conductor leading an orchestra. The machine began to hum, a deep vibration that resonated in Pete's chest. Blue light crackled around the platform, growing brighter until - Poof! The tomato disappeared.

Pete blinked, his jaw tightening instinctively. Before he could voice his doubts, Rick pointed to the other platform. "Look!"

There it was—the tomato, sitting perfectly on the opposite platform. Pete walked over and picked it up, turning it in his hands. The tomato's skin was smooth and unblemished, its shape flawless. It looked exactly like it had before.

"Well?" Rick asked, his grin threatening to split his face.

"Looks fine," Pete muttered.

"Not just 'fine.' Perfect," Rick corrected, his excitement undampened. "Try it!"

Pete sighed and took a bite. The taste hit him instantly—sweet, tangy, and fresh, as if it had just been picked from the vine. He chewed thoughtfully before nodding. "Alright. It's good."

Rick clapped his hands together in triumph. "Good? It's amazing! Admit it, Pete. This machine is going to revolutionize everything. Imagine transporting fresh produce across the country instantly. No spoilage, no delays. The possibilities are endless!"

Pete ate the remaining half of the tomato and looked back to Rick. "Impressive," he admitted, glancing at the mountain again. "But you dragged me out here to show me you can move a tomato ten feet?"

Rick laughed, shaking his head. "Ten feet's just the beginning. With a few more tweaks, I'll be able to send things miles away—or further! I've already got plans to scale this up. Just wait, Pete. This is only the start."

Pete squinted at Rick, suspicion etched across his face. "Alright, Rick. What's the real reason you dragged me all the way out here to show me this thing? Don't tell me you just wanted me to taste-test a tomato."

Rick hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, actually… I was hoping you'd, uh, help me test it out."

Pete squinted and frowned. "Test it how?"

Rick's face lit up with an almost childlike enthusiasm. "I need a human test subject! Someone brave enough to be the first person to experience teleportation firsthand. I mean, I could test it on myself, but, you know, safety protocols and all that…"

Pete took a step back, narrowing his eyes. "You want me to step onto that thing and let it zap me? Have you completely lost your mind?"

Rick raised his hands defensively. "It's perfectly safe! Probably. Look, the tomato was fine, wasn't it? No freezing, no size changes, no explosions this time."

Pete stared at the machine, then back at Rick, who was grinning nervously. He thought about refusing outright. The idea was insane, no doubt about it. But then, something inside him shifted—a mixture of apathy and curiosity. The machine probably wouldn't work anyway, and if it did… well, maybe it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.

A wry smile tugged at Pete's lips. "Fine," he said, stepping toward the platform. "If it kills me, you'd be doing me a favor."

Rick's grin widened. "That's the spirit! You won't regret this, Pete. History's going to remember you as the first man to teleport!"

Pete climbed onto the platform, standing stiffly in the center. "Yeah, yeah. Just get it over with."

Rick rushed to the controls, his fingers flying over buttons and knobs with the urgency of someone who was either very confident or very reckless. The machine began to hum, the same low vibration Pete had felt earlier.

"Alright, here we go!" Rick called out, hitting the final switch.

The hum grew louder, and blue light crackled around Pete. For a moment, it seemed like everything was going according to plan. But then the light flickered, and the hum deepened into a menacing growl.

"Uh… that's not supposed to happen," Rick muttered, twisting a knob frantically.

Suddenly, the machine sputtered and went dark. Pete stood on the platform, completely unharmed. He crossed his arms, his face blank but his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Wow, Rick. What a groundbreaking invention. Truly revolutionary."

Rick sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Okay, okay. I'll admit, it needs some fine-tuning. You're… a bit bigger than a tomato, so I'll have to recalibrate the settings. Just give me a second."

Pete rolled his eyes but stayed on the platform. "Take your time, genius."

Rick hunched over the controls, adjusting sliders and tapping buttons with renewed focus. "Alright, I think I've got it. This time, for sure!"

He flipped the switch again. The machine roared to life, the hum now deafening. Bolts of electricity erupted from the cables, snaking their way toward Pete. The blue light engulfed him, growing brighter and more intense by the second.

Pete barely had time to shout before the electricity struck him, surging through his body like wildfire. The pain was searing, his muscles locking as his screams were drowned out by the machine's furious crackling.

"Pete!" Rick yelled, frantically trying to shut the machine down. But no matter what he tried, the controls were unresponsive.

As the searing blue light finally faded, Pete felt his knees buckle. His feet landed unevenly on soft grass, and he stumbled forward, collapsing onto all fours. His body ached, his muscles felt strained, and his head swam with disorientation. He groaned, clutching the ground beneath him as the world spun around him like a carousel gone mad.

For a moment, there was only silence. The sharp hum of Rick's machine, the crackling of electricity, even Rick's panicked shouts—they were all gone. Pete forced himself to take a few deep breaths, his chest heaving as he fought to steady himself. After what felt like an eternity, he opened his eyes. At first, his vision was blurred, the vibrant green of the grass beneath him swimming in and out of focus. Slowly, the haze lifted, and the first thing he noticed was how lush the grass was. Where is Rick? Where is the machine?