Ark by K.B. Kofoed

for?”
    Jim and Gene looked at each other with their mouths open.
    Wilcox turned away and began to walk, still talking. His free stride reminded Jim of Peter O’Toole striding across the dunes in the movie Lawrence of Arabia.
    “Like I said before, Gene,” he continued without looking back to see if he had an audience, “it’s really important that we keep this project quiet. It’d attract everyone from thieves to priests. If the media catches wind of it we’ll have to put up porta-potties for all the cultists camped everywhere. You get the idea, I’m sure. What a mess it would be if this thing got out.” John swiveled on his heel to face them. “Shall we begin next week?”
    “Next week?” Gene and Jim said nearly in unison.
    “Right. I’ll have heavy machinery brought in to start clearing the land.”
    Gene looked down at the grass and stepped forward. “John,” he said. “I don’t see any reason to rush this project along.”
    “Why not, Gene?” argued Wilcox. “Surely you’re as eager as I am to see this thing in action.”
    “In action?” said Jim. “What do you mean by that?”
    Wilcox eyed Jim silently and began walking back toward the edge of the field where the Land Rover waited. As they all got in John put the Rover in reverse, looked at his companions, and shrugged. “Perhaps you’re right, Gene. You won’t be the first to accuse me of going off half cocked.”
    Gene sighed. “I didn’t accuse you of that, John.”
    Sitting behind Gene, Jim leaned forward and rested his arm on the driver’s seat. “Maybe we should study this thing a bit more. I mean, you’ve clearly thought it through, John, but all this is still a bit new to me.”
    “I’ve known what John had in mind all along, Jim,” interrupted Gene. “The reason I didn’t explain the plans is that I wanted you to hear it from John first.”
    “Look, Jim,” said John. “I inherited my money. How else do you think I got my hands on 500 acres in Westchester County? Add some blind luck of my own, and a great investment broker, and I became a millionaire on my own. But I still like franks at Yankee Stadium. Pizza. Beer. I’m just a regular guy. This thing is incredible, though. I really think the ark is going to work.”
    The Rover bumped along the gravel road back toward the house that John called his cottage in the woods and John told a few anecdotes about his family, how he grew up in a big house playing with the servant’s kids. Jim listened, but all he heard was a rich man trying to seem humble. He noticed that Gene was watching the landscape roll by, probably not even listening to John. Jim had the impression that all three of them were on different wavelengths.
    “I think Gene and I should look into the alternative materials route. Right, Gene?” Jim asked, nudging his friend.
    “What’s that?” Gene asked, suddenly wrested from his thoughts.
    “Years ago, when you first got me doing those drawings, you were thinking about building the thing using alternative materials. I think you said that the ark would be made of gold plated aluminum or something like that.”
    “Sure,” said Gene. “What of it?”
    “It occurs to me that our main problem with this project is having all that gold in one place. If we could use less gold then maybe we wouldn’t attract so much attention. More like an experiment. You know.”
    “No,” said John. “That won’t do at all.”
    “Why not?” Jim asked, startled at John’s firm rebut.
    “It would be a desecration to differ from the original. Like you said yourself, Jim. Once you start changing things, where do you stop?”
    “Did I say that?” said Jim with a smile. “Well, I can’t argue with myself, now can I?”
    John laughed. “I do it all the time myself, Jim,” he said, “but I don’t let it keep me from doing things.”
    “I’m just suggesting we hold off a bit,” said Jim. “Now that we’ve met and understand each other, then this project has