Following the Fault Lines:
The Adventures of the Tectonic Techie
Les, “Les is More,” Felderman had a lucrative career as a door-to-door encyclopedia salesman. Les
and his wife, Maggie, lived a nomadic existence as she accompanied Les on his travels, even while 9-months
pregnant. It was during one of his sales calls, as they drove down a bumpy, gravel road in rural Tennessee,
that Maggie Felderman gave birth to their only child, a son they named Brick. Brick was so named because
when he popped out of his ma, he bounced around the backseat of their Ford Fairmont station wagon like
a lone brick in a cockeyed wheelbarrow. As the life of a traveling encyclopedia salesman was no life for a
young boy, Brick was sent to live with his grandma, whom he grew to call “Nema,” in the tiny hamlet of
Clintonville, Wisconsin, located northwest of Green Bay at the foot of Pigeon Lake.
Brick’s shaky beginnings gave way to a life of stability with Nema. Outside of the mysterious hour
she spent locked in her computer room every day, hammering away at the keyboards, Nema was normal
and nurturing. And, Brick, by turn, also struck everyone he met as a genuine good egg, a stand up guy who
could always be counted on in a pinch. Friends and family seemed to look past his tall mohawk. They
smiled at his closet full of t-shirts with random sayings in bold letters like "Time Travel Agent," "Bigfoot
Expert," and "Karate Prom." And they mostly ignored his twitchy reflexes that would seemingly burst
out of his body in the form of a perpetually drumming pencil or tapping foot. These motions, which were
exaggerated by Brick's lanky arms and legs that bent with amazing elasticity, only stopped when he was
reading or tinkering; he could always be found with wires and cranks, gadgets and gizmos shoved into the
array of pockets on his always present cargo pants. Even his PJs had pockets at the knees. As he grew,
Brick’s thirst for knowledge intensified and was fed by the encyclopedias his dad would send for
birthdays and other holidays.
Brick’s first volume, “E,” a misprinted edition that was bound upside down, sparked his fascination
with earthquakes. Brick wasn't content just to skim these volumes. Instead, he'd fill the margins with
notes, fact check statistics, and wrestle with the text until he had committed most of the words to
memory. By the time, he made his way through the “W” volume, Brick had seen enough of the world,
through the pages of print, to realize Wisconsin was not big enough for his adventurous spirit. He got the
final nudge from the nest while on his favorite blog Seismology Matters. The blog, hosted by a woman
with the handle Nana Quake N’ Shake, was devoted to the study of geological grumblings. On April 1,
2012 Brick read a post titled “Rumblings on the Rise” that pointed to seismic data proving an increase in
tectonic activity. While the epicenter of this activity was in California, the tremors appeared to lash out
from the Sunshine State with scattergram-style whips that seemed destined to crack in places as far
flung and land locked as Clintonville, Wisconsin. It's true that the post came through on the first of
April. Unfortunately, this was no April Fools joke.
Suddenly, Brick’s laptop appeared to tiptoe across his dresser. Soon after, he felt the rumblings
beneath his feet. An earthquake had arrived. Worried about Nema’s safety, he rushed down the stairs
and kicked open the door to his Nema’s computer room just in time to see her rip a printout of seismic
data from her printer. As she turned toward Brick, he noticed her trucker hat perched on her head. On
the white foam above the brim, he read the black block letters: “Quake ‘N Shake.” Nema, usually a woman
of many words, could only muster up two things to say. First, “This is big.” Second, “Brick, honey, I have a
job for you.”
As the ground continued to shake, Brick rushed to his grandma's side. He felt helpless as her
plethora of collectible spoons crashed to the floor. He was despondent as her prized collection of
Hummel figurines two-stepped across their appointed shelf and tumbled, Lemming-style, to the floor.
Brick vowed never again to be conquered by a quake.
Nema literally and figuratively shook Brick out of his dutiful daydream as she told him some
riveting news. "Brick, honey, you know your Nema loves you, and I've worked hard to keep you out of
harm's way. But, honey, now's the time for action. If my data is correct, and it always is, there is a train
of earthquakes rumblin' through California that could chop it off right at Nevada. The Vegas odds are
pretty good that a split like that would plunk California right into the Pacific Ocean." At this point,
Brick's world started swirling. He knew a split like that would not only kill millions in California but also
tip the rest of America, see-saw style, causing mass destruction and untold casualties. He slipped into a
surreal state as he held his grandma for a good minute as the rest of the tremors subsided. Foggily, and
only at his Nema's urging, Brick packed his tall camping backpack for a trip out West while Nema, A.K.A.
Nana Quake N' Shake, pounded out a quick blog post to a password-protected, members-only section of
the seismology website. Brick neatly packed climbing ropes and carabineers, power bars and assorted
flashlights, a case of Mentos for his breath, a case of Coke for the caffeine, some M-80 fireworks he'd
used to scare away wildlife from their commercial gardens out back, anything he could fit in his pack that
he thought might come in handy. After Brick packed his favorite two encyclopedia volumes, E and G
(because of the "grandparent" entry of course), he groggily noticed there was only room in his backpack
for his iPad.
As Brick grabbed his iPad, he was suddenly shaken out of his stupor by a knock on the door. Upon
answering it, Brick saw the strangest looking-UPS man he had ever seen. This man whose nametag read,
"Harold" had on the standard brown-all-around shorts, shirt, socks, and cap, but he also wore a pocket
protector and had a shock of white hair that splayed out from under his cap. Brick also noticed what
appeared to be a lab coat poking out the back of his brown shorts. Harold said, "Your grandma's friend,
Steve, created these for her, but according to her latest blog post, she wants you to have them." With
that, Harold pulled a white plug out of his humming satchel, plugged it into Brick's iPad and proceeded to
transfer a few apps. When he was finished, this herald named Harold pulled the plug from the iPad, had
Brick sign for an "I survived the 1.5" Clintonville earthquake t-shirt, tipped his hat, and quickly scuttled
down the sidewalk.
Just then, Nema appeared in the doorway. Noticing Brick's once more stunned look, she gently
lifted the iPad from Brick's hand. As she used her fingers to move, rearrange, and expand images, Brick
noticed that his iPad now had more encyclopedic knowledge than any library. Then, as a variety of charts
and graphs filled the screen, Nema set the iPad down on the ground. She said, "Brick, honey, I want you
to jump." Brick did as he was told, and heartbeat-style lines immediately bounced across the screen. It
was a portable seismograph. After they shared a quick, knowing glance, Nema placed the iPad and a oneway plane ticket in Brick's backpack, which she had lugged in from his bedroom. She gave him one more
warm hug, and ushered him out the door by saying, "Honey, you've got work to do. If you follow my blog,
I'll be with you the whole way." Winking, she then said, "Those apps from Mr. Jobs should come in handy
too." With that, Nema gently shut the door. Almost immediately, a taxi arrived to take Brick to the
Clintonville Municipal Airport, where a private jet was waiting on the runway to take Brick to California.
On the way to the airport, the taxi began to shake, and the ground beneath the car rumbled with
the vibrations of a passing semi truck. Without hesitation, Brick told the driver to stop, hopped out,
yanked out his newly enhanced iPad and set it right on the shoulder of the road. Immediately after Brick
opened his newest app., long readouts of data started to scroll across the screen. Not only could Brick
see the magnitude of the quake, exactly 1.8, he also got the exact satellite-provided coordinates of the
epicenter, which was only 50 feet to his right, at the bottom of a local quarry. Brick snatched up his iPad
and his pack and literally hurdled rocks as he made his way to the edge of the quarry. He then secured
his climbing equipment to a nearby boulder and began to repel down to the center of this massive hole in
the earth. At the bottom, Brick noticed a large crack in the earth where the rumble seemed to be
emanating from. In one fluid motion, Brick swooped into his pack and pulled out 4 M-80s, with one lodged
between each pair of fingers on his left hand. With his right hand, he somehow reached behind his back
took a match from a left side pocket, struck it against a pile of gravel, and lit all 4 fireworks. With a
cross between a pirouette and a judo move, Brick spun to face the crack and tossed the fireworks into
the depths. 4 large booms then echoed around the quarry as the crevice belched dust and debris, but the
rumbling had stopped. The impact from the explosions had forced the tectonic plates apart and had
caused them to settle once more into their time-worn grooves. Brick thought back to an article he read
about firefighters intentionally burning swaths of land to remove fuel from marauding forest fires,
literally fighting fire with fire. Brick had immediately transferred that stored data to his situation and
had fought tremors with tremors.
Brick made his way back out of the quarry, finished his ride to the airport, landed safely in
California, and proceeded to spend the early part of the summer applying his new plate-separation
technique to the plague of earthquakes that had descended on the region. Without much sleep and
without ever a breath of hesitation, Brick followed the data from his seismograph app and the advice
from his Nema, whose blog he followed on his iPad (Yes, there's an app for that too.) thwarting disaster
after disaster with nary a collector's plate shaken off a resident's wall. By the Fourth of July, Brick's
game of tectonic Whack-a-Mole seemed to be settling down and he afforded himself a night off to watch
the fireworks at a local park in Big Pine, California. He had also given the night off to his faithful team of
pyrotechnic engineers, who were perpetually armed with stores of government-grade explosives, much
more sophisticated than the M-80s Brick had started with. Big Pine's location just inside the California
border from Nevada and about in the middle of the state made it a perfect headquarters for Brick's
operations.
As the last of the bombastic explosions of green and red lit up the sky, a slight rumble, almost
more of a gurgle, started to move the lawn beneath the patriotic observers. Before Brick could even turn
on his iPad, it somehow animated itself and projected a hologram, depicting the ground directly beneath
Brick. Unaware that his device was capable of such an effect, Brick watched in real time as giant plates,
exactly 1.7 miles beneath their feet, began to charge at each other like two rams looking to assert their
dominance. The 3D image gave Brick unprecedented insight into the location, speed, and direction of the
plates. This was to be the mother of all earthquakes, with the app's projected Richter scale reading
coming in at 12.5, a full 3 points above the previous record holder from Chile in 1960. It surely would be
enough to shake all of California loose from the mainland. As the rumbling intensified, the other
observers became panicked and began to rush toward their cars. In the commotion, Brick's iPad was
crushed under the stampede; the hologram quickly disappeared, and the screen went black. Without
losing a second to despair, Brick fought his way through the remaining crowd spawning-salmon style until
he got to the firework launch site.
Only finding two unspent fireworks, Brick refused to give into despair. Instead, he took each in
his hands, lit the fuses, and aimed them at the ground, directly above where the plates were set to
impact. The explosions had made a dent, but did not dig down nearly as deep as his team of
pyrotechnicians was usually able to get him. As Brick took momentary notice of his drying mouth, he
thought of the full cases of Mentos and Coke in his pack. He then remembered an inquiry-based lab (his
favorite outside of dissecting and reassembling the owl pellet) from his 7th-grade science class where
they had learned of the explosive combination of the two. Brick broke open the case of Mentos and lined
the crevice the fireworks created with the orb-like white candies. He then furiously shook each can of
coke until it began to bulge. Brick then quickly jammed his fingernail beneath the tab of one Coke can
after another and began to saturate each Mentos candy with the carbonated syrup. The micro explosions
succeeded in splitting the earth right down to the point where Brick could spot the spot of impending
impact.
For the first time in his life, though, Brick took pause. He was out of explosives and had no way to
slow the plates. From behind, Brick heard what sounded like jingle bells from Santa's sleigh, and, as he
spun around, he took in the sight of a woman carrying an enormous Santa-like sack, which was thrown over
her shoulder. It was Nema, and she had brought her prized array of collectible spoons all the way from
Wisconsin. "Brick, it's sure good to see you honey. I thought you could use these to finish your table
settings. You know, some spoons to go with your tectonic plates." The glimmer in Brick's eyes indicated
that he caught her meaning. And Nema could only get out the words, "I love you, Honey, and I'm oh so
proud of you." before Brick sprung into action. Without taking the time to set up his repelling equipment,
Brick descended into the crevice he'd created with Nema's bag of spoons on his back. As he reached the
impact point, Brick pulled the drawstring from the bag, tipped it over, and watched as the army of tiny
spoons tumbled to the ground, lining the crack. Brick barely had time to jump as the plates barreled
toward each other. He jumped up, did the splits in the air, and landed with one leg on each plate. As they
were about to make impact, a miraculous thing occurred! The friction caused the spoons to melt, and the
molten metal slowed the plates. The plates never did touch, the molten metal locking them permanently in
place. However the impact was still intense, and it served to push both sides of the ravine together.
Brick Felderman was popped like a teenage pimple.
Instantly, Nema dropped to her knees. She was overcome with ample pours of grief and relief
that seemed to slosh back and forth in her mind. With those pinballing plates now welded together, her
grandson had saved California and the nation, but he had left her forever. Nema was still on her knees
when some of the former firework revelers trickled back in, and she refused to get to her feet even
when the authorities arrived for questioning. First the local police and then the feds. showed up to get
the rundown of the night's events, and they all suffered dusty butts as they sat down to talk with and
console the distraught grandma.
Nema avoided any media associated with the event. She refused the Today Show, Live with Kelly
and Michael, and even her favorite ladies on The View. Nema even decided it was time to leave her life in
Clintonville; it was too painful to be asked about Brick every day in the post office and the sleepy
downtown diners. Nema moved to Big Pine California and set up a novelty shop right atop Brick's final
resting space. She continues to blog, but when customers pop in, she might sell them a porcelain figurine,
a collectible spoon, a novelty t-shirt (the best seller being "I Survived the 1.5"), or even a letter F
encyclopedia volume. She has the F from every major set, from World Book to Britannica, and she has
placed a Post-it note in each one on the page that contains the entry "Felderman, Brick."