The Hundred Gram Mission Read Free Page B

specifics of your business plan.   I’d like to fund your venture. You’ll have the contract in the morning. Please look it over and let me know if its agreeable to you."
    He turned around and waved at the bartender.
    "Another round for us, on me. We’re going to take over the world!"
    The bartender smiled. It wasn’t the first time someone had said that in the Muddy Charles, and meant it.
     
    "Dude!" Damien bounced along the street, "We are in. We’re so fucking in! " 
    Elijah shook his head and raised an eyebrow. It was drizzling in Harvard Square. People hopped under awnings or clustered around store entrances. A street performer juggled on, undaunted.  
    "What?" Damien stopped, his expression fell. "He said yes!"
    "I don’t know, Man."
    "What’s not to know? He’s the first VC we’ve spoken to who even knows what an asteroid, is . He gets it! He gets the whole business model!"
    "You don’t think that’s a bit suspicious?"
    "Suspicious?! What is wrong with you? He’s a venture capitalist who isn’t some old geezer who only understands nano-bio, and you want to find a problem with that?"
    Elijah shrugged. "Look, we’ve had to jump through a lot of hoops just to get the dignity of kinda-sorta- rejections.  He touched on our numbers, but that was it. He didn’t talk about safety. He didn’t talk nearly enough about the legal issues."
    "So? He was excited! He wants this to happen. Why are you raining on our parade here? We’ve finally got a VC who wants to do business with us! Shit, he’s sending us a contract."
    "Yeah. I guess you’re right. I just can’t really believe it’s finally happening, and so quickly."
    Damien patted his arm.
    "Sun-Star Prospecting is going places, Mr. Newman. We’re fucking going to space, and we’re going to fucking own it!"
     
    One day later, Somerville, Massachusetts
    "God, I hate Somerville."
    The man next to Damien snorted, and poured him more beer. The two toasted, and sat back in their lawn chairs. It was getting late, and the party was getting worse. Ageing hipsters drank PBR and gave them dirty looks through oversized, plastic-framed, glasses. It was a warm night; snooty groups dotted the yard. The barbecue still smelled of tofu dogs. 
    "I got the feeling you don’t know too many people here," said the other man. He wore a sports jacket and real leather shoes.  He’d already been told off that evening by a pair of vegans.
    "Oh hell no. I’m here because of Elijah, my business partner. These are his girlfriend’s friends. He has to go, but he can’t stand them. So he asked me to come be his wingman at this party."
    Sports Jacket looked around.
    "Well where is he?"
    He rolled his eyes. "Having a fight with his girlfriend, upstairs. Been half an hour and they’re still not done. They’re either still fighting, or they’ve started fucking. Either way, I’m stuck out here with Gentrification’s finest."
    "Well, we’re both stuck out here."
    "What about you?" Damien asked. "What brought you here?"
    "Just meeting up with some friends from Tufts. They wanted to come for this party, so here we are. They’re busy hitting on random women who aren’t interested, so here I am, drinking in a corner."
    "Did you go to Tufts?"
    "Yeah, Fletcher School. I focused on venture capital contracts. A big investor wants to screw you and steal your business? I’m the guy who reads the small print he’ll try and use."
    Damien sat up, eyes wide. 
    "No way? Hey, I’ve a contract that I need to go over, one with a venture capitalist."
    "Seriously?" Sports Jacket grinned. "It’s a small world. Have you got someone who’ll take a look at it for you?"
    "I haven’t asked anyone yet. Just got it today."
    "Here," he reached into his pocket and pulled out a card. "I’d be happy to take a look at it for you, on Monday."
    Damien read the card. "Sam Snyder. Good to meet you, Sam Snyder," the two shook hands. "I hate to be crass but how much would that set me back?"
    "You stick