Worth the Trip by William Ledbetter

        Anita and I sat on the bench outside our restaurant under the pretense of greeting customers, but we really watched the construction across the street. We were getting new neighbors and I didn't like it.

Sky cars came in one after another, settled onto the street long enough for passengers to disembark, then zipped off to find parking since the empty lot across the street was no longer an option.

"What the hell are they building?" I muttered after a group of customers walked past.

"It doesn't matter," my sister said. "We've been over this fifty times. They have the proper permits. They can build whatever they want if it doesn't violate zoning."

The building didn't look like a new competitor, but with so many big, automated restaurants these days it was hard to tell. Still, not many companies built new eating establishments from the ground up in this part of Austin's east side.

"I still don't like it," I said.

It was early, but twenty people waited in the hot Austin sun for their turn at an inside table. The takeout line was even longer, with personal drones hovering in line behind humans, all patiently waiting for their barbecue.

Smokies had been in our family, using the same meat pit for sixty years. We'd won nine various Michelin Star awards, and landed Texas Monthly's top spot even more times than Franklin's. Business was good and I wanted to keep it that way.

"What the hell are they doing over there, Rizzy?"

My Shado personal AI left its docking perch on my left shoulder, buzzed around my head a few times, then stopped to hover in front of my face like an annoying fly.

"As Anita said, we've already discussed this. It is being built by some kind of technology company and all quite legal. Look," I said, and pointed at a big air truck that slowed to a hover above the new building's loading dock, then lowered a pallet of shrink-wrapped crates and boxes. "Fly over there and snoop!"

For two weeks I'd watched industrial printers and spindly-tall autonomous construction robots carefully assemble the odd-shaped building then load it with huge pieces of equipment. The curiosity was eating me up.

As a big side door rolled open and robotic handlers moved the pallets inside, Rizzy returned and started flooding my implant with video and pictures.

"Just tell me what I'm looking at," I said.

"High-capacity electrical storage."

"Which is what? Batteries?"

"Yes, but the really powerful, efficient, and expensive kind. There are also step-up transformers and other equipment for power management. Whatever they're building will use a lot of power."

"Great. I knew it." I said, wondering if this would be just one more power-suck contributing to Austin's rolling blackouts.

#

After another week, things calmed down across the street. The construction debris was hauled away, safety fencing removed, and nothing but quiet for several days. Still, instead of being relieved, I waited for the other shoe to drop. 

Then one afternoon my restaurant's lights flickered off and came back on a few seconds later. I stepped outside to see if any storms were on the horizon. It was a bright sunny day, but a strange blue light came from the windows of the building across the street.

"I knew it," I said. 

Just as I was instructing Rizzy to file a complaint, someone exited the mystery building, crossed the road, and stepped up to the end of the line waiting to be seated. He was a black man, tall and lanky, with hair turned mostly white and a cloud of security buzzer drones floating about his head. 

"Rizzy? That guy looks familiar. Who is he?"

My implant showed me Rizzy's face recognition software as it characterized the man's features, then the name that popped up made the breath stop in my chest.

It was Aaron Dodson. A billionaire who used to live in Austin before he got even more obscenely rich.

"Holy shit," I said in a whisper. "Get Anita out here."

Rizzy sent her a message, and I continued to watch the man get ever closer to the door as other customers were seated.

"Isn't he the guy who claims to give two dollars to the needy for every dollar he spends on himself?" I said, talking to Rizzy, but my sister answered. 

"Yes," she said stepping up to my side wiping her hands on a towel. "He's built hospitals, water filtration plants, schools etc. But he's still an asshole billionaire."

"There's something else," Rizzy said. "Last year Aaron Dodson announced his successful..."

"Quiet," I said as the man stepped out of line and walked up to us.

"Are you the owners of this fine establishment?"

He still had a thick, east Texas accent.

"We are. I'm Emilio Perez. This is my sister Anita."

The man smiled and gave a strange little bow. "I used to eat here about once a week when I lived in Austin. back when your daddy still ran the pit. I remember seeing the two of you running around pretending to work, but mostly just getting in the way."

I nodded stupidly, at a loss for words. "Ummm... so you've moved back? Do you live over there?"

He shook his head and laughed. "No. Doesn't that Shado of yours get a decent news feed?"

"As I was trying to tell you," Rizzy said in an obviously perturbed voice. "Last year Aaron Dodson's company, Quantum Train, successfully demonstrated the ability to transfer humans via quantumly entangled stations across large distances."

I stared at the man for a second, as I remembered that news story. "You mean-- Wait, that building is like a Star Trek transporter?"

Aaron nodded. "It is indeed."

"And you built it across from my pit on purpose?"

He shrugged. "Some might call me crazy, but your brisket is worth the trip."

The End

 Worth the Trip (c) Copyright 2026 by William Ledbetter