The Heartseat's Tech lab. The One and Only Heartseat's Tech Lab. The brainstorming and engineering grounds of all of the tech that Doctor Nikolos had brought to New Mobius.
It was always neat being Uncle Spark's nephew, but this was one of those times when Sonic just really felt like something else. Not just anybody could just waltz into the Heartseat's Tech Lab next to Commander Sparks.
The sheet metal walkway felt cold beneath his bare feet. They stood at the end of a copper-banded tunnel, probably a mile underground. The tunnel opened into a high ceiling lit with bright white lamps hanging from the black roof. The light reflected off of myriads of blinking metal knobs and glass panels from the machinery crammed into the room.
Sonic dipped his head back, grinning so that his cheeks hurt. He could never run in a place like this. He'd break something. He saw some cranes though—those would be fun to climb. Maybe Uncle Sparks would have something to do while he was here and then he could really check this place out.
Sonic started walking toward something that looked like a hybrid crossbow and laser blaster, but Sparks took his arm and guided him to a line of orange tape. "We'll follow this path," Sparks said. "I'll take you on the tour later."
Sonic shrugged. "This place is crazy."
"And it's only the first floor," Sparks said.
"It's got more?" Sonic questioned, raising his eyebrows.
"You bet." Sparks followed the tape around a corner to a sheet metal cubical covered in orange tarp. "Dickon! Anyone present?"
The tarp whipped aside as a blur of orange shot out of the cubicle atop a rolling chair. Sonic jumped in surprise. It was a grinning Mobian fox with a shock of blonde hair and green eyes. He was decked in elbow and knee safety pads and a scorched apron, its pockets stuffed with screwdrivers, wrenches and laser knives. He wore a pair of brown goggles on his forehead and steel-tipped hiking shoes with metal grooves on his feet. They clicked on the cement floor when Dickon leapt off the chair and extended his gloved hand to Sparks. "Commando!" His white-tipped tail swirled around him.
Sparks snatched ahold of his hand and thwacked the fox on the back. "Hello, Dickon. I assume everything is in order?"
Dickon nodded, scratching behind his ear. "Sure thing, sure thing, operations are going just swell—Miles has started helping out around the place, you know, it's been neat having him on the job-" Dickon stopped, noticing Sonic, "Well! Is this the squirt you're always talking about? The one with the moxie?" Dickon dropped down into a crouch, winked and took Sonic's hand. "Sonic, right?"
Sonic decided he liked Dickon—even if he had just called him a "squirt." "Yep, that's me."
"Not afraid to look me in the eye, I like that," Dickon grinned. "Happy Birthday!"
Sonic frowned, confused. "Um…"
"Actually, it's not his birthday," Sparks hissed, the corner of his mouth tweaking in amusement. "I decided this was the right time."
"Oh," Dickon laughed. A nice carefree laugh. He stood up.
"This is Dickon, Dr. Nikolos' head techmaster," Sparks told Sonic.
"You're the head tech master?" Sonic asked, eyes wide. He stared at Dickon with a fresh respect.
"Uh oh, what have you heard about me?" Dickon elbowed Sparks in the ribs. "Have you been telling him stories, Commando?"
Sparks hung his head and shook it to himself, hiding his smile. He planted his hands on his waist. "Sonic, don't let him fool you. He's a genius and he's only invented half of everything in this room—with Dr. Nikolos inventing the other half—and for all that, he has natural people skills. Until the clock strikes eight pm that is, and then its zombie mode."
Dickon guffawed and swiped a hand at Sparks. "Oh, go on, Sparks is the real big wig around here." He stepped back into the cubicle, dragging the chair with him. "Well, I'm afraid my time's short, but not short enough that I can't do a little favor for your uncle. No peeking back here. What's your favorite color, kiddo?"
Sonic replied back instantly. "Red."
"Red?" Dickon stuck his head out for a second, his goggles pulled down over his eyes. "Huh. Why red?"
"'Cause it's the color of courage," Sonic said, crossing his arms.
"Bet I can guess who told you that," Dickon smirked at Sparks. "Hold on a minute."
Sonic waited to hear a mini explosion or the whirr of gears or the hiss of electrical circuits, but there was nothing. The silence just made the anticipation worse.
He bit the inside cheek of his mouth, all jitters inside. He dashed around to the other side of his uncle, "What's taking him so long?" he hissed.
Sparks just stared ahead, grinning to himself.
Sonic crossed and uncrossed his feet, tapping out a rhythm, "Uncle Sparks, c'mon, I'm gonna explode-is it a silent blaster?" he hissed.
"Already told you it's not a blaster." Sparks said shortly.
"Haha!" Dickon wheeled back out of the cubicle, his back to them. "Are you ready? It may not look like much at first."
"Oh, oh, yeah, I'm ready alright!" Sonic leapt forward, forcing his hands behind his back
Dickon clicked his shoes down to the ground and spun himself around. On his lap lay a pair of shoes—simple red sneakers with a white stripe across and gold buckles on the sides.
"Catch!" Dicken tossed them to Sonic.
"Huh!" Sonic caught them in both hands and turned them around. They looked normal enough, but Uncle Sparks wouldn't give him normal shoes—especially normal shoes made by the head techmaster of New Mobius. He shot a look back at Uncle Sparks. "Do they have rockets in them?"
Sparks shook his head, eyes wide with amusement. "No."
Dickon watched Sonic investigate the shoes, grinning. "Want me to spill the beans?"
Sonic weighed the glory of guessing the secret himself versus knowing it right away…and chose the latter. "Sure."
Dickon put the tips of his fingers together. "Sparks told me that you have a special…talent…and that talent makes it pretty hard for any shoes you do wear to stay in one piece for very long. And that's a real problem here in New Mobius, with all the metal shards and hazardous materials left over from the war lying all over the place. If you really want to concentrate on where you're going—say if you are out for a jog—you don't want to have to worry about what you might step on…especially when you're going fast." Dickon winked.
The head techmaster knew about his gift? Sonic grinned and he leaned forward.
"Problem solved. Those there," Dickon motioned to the shoes. "Deflect friction. Friction-proof, while still retaining traction."
Sonic wasn't quite sure what that meant, but it sounded good. "Um-"
"You won't burn them out in a week. Or a year. My hope is that they won't burn out your entire life." Dickon said.
"You can go fast in these, Sonic," Uncle Sparks said, hands clasped behind his back. "Faster than you have ever able been able to go before."
Sonic's eyes lit up.
He dropped to the ground at once and pulled the shoes on. "Oh, man, Uncle Sparks—you think so? Boy, let's go try 'em out-I'm gonna try these out right now—" Sonic yanked the white straps through the buckles. He looked up at Dickon, who leaned back in his chair, biting his lower lip in pleasure. Sonic shot him a thumbs up as he climbed to his feet. "Thanks a lot, Mister! Wow, these are just super keen. You must be pretty smart. How'd you do it?"
"The physics is insane," Dickon rested his chin on his fist. "But I love physics. I was studying the connection between friction and entropy and Sparks asked if I could do him a favor in my spare time."
"Wow," Sonic said once again. He planted the sturdy flat soles of the shoes on the ground. Resolute. Capable. Ready. He scuffed them against the ground and grinned at how they bent with his foot while still retaining their grip on the floor. Perfect for a push off. And they were red.
He looked at Uncle Sparks and his eyes shone.
"Level eight is open, for your information," Dickon whipped a grease smeared passcard from his pocket. "He needs a good place to try those out, you know."
Sparks took the passcard and winked. "Thanks, Dickon."
Dickon saluted.
Sonic held out his hand to Dickon. "Thanks again."
Dickon took it and shook it soundly. "Don't mention it, soldier."