Solar Flare, page 23
Algernon’s expression darkened. “I hope not—but the powers that be don’t give up their grip easily.” He gave Galen a pointed look. “You know there will be newspaper people here.”
Galen was well aware. He had invited them himself, with the promise of being the first to know what new ideas were shared and new technologies demonstrated at the event.
“I’ve already met one reporter—not shy about asking the hard questions. Perhaps it would be good—just for peace of mind—to send a telegram to each of the other presenters confirming the date and their travel arrangements.” Galen knew keeping Algernon busy was key to not having his supervisor following his every move. “You’ll feel better, misunderstandings can be cleared up while there’s still time, and we’ll know their plans so we can meet their trains. Plus, you can get a feel for whether anyone has made them feel uneasy about participating.”
“Excellent idea. I’ll go do that now.”
“I’m going to walk through the building and see that the arrangements are going as they should,” Galen told him, trying to move on.
“Did anyone tell you that the mayor is looking for you?”
“Yes, I’m sure she’ll find me. Do you know what she wants?”
“Mayor Sumner and Sheriff Mather want to increase security. A good idea, especially if our speakers are worried for their safety.”
“I hope that isn’t necessary, but I think it’s wise,” Galen agreed. “Men like Alston Merritt don’t play fair.”
Merritt, the owner of Merritt Coal, had emerged as Hibbard’s chief detractor. The man never seemed to miss an opportunity to belittle Hibbard’s ideas and Lumen’s accomplishments to the newspapers. And if that’s what he says in public, he’s probably twice as damning behind closed doors to any willing ears.
“Merritt. Bah,” Algernon said as if the man’s name left a bad taste. “He’ll never change his mind because his money depends on keeping things exactly the same.”
“Well then, we’ll just have to work twice as hard to prove him wrong and do it in a big way.” Galen did his best to radiate confidence.
“Go. You have plenty to do without pacifying me,” Algernon said with a wan smile. He clapped Galen on the shoulder. “I believe in you, Galen.”
“Thank you, sir.” Galen did his best to shrug off the headmaster’s anxious mood and took the stairs to the Collegium two at a time.
In a big city, a building like this might be made of granite or marble, like a Carnegie library. Instead, the Collegium was built from lumber mined on the hills outside of town, cut by the local sawmill, and built by the people of Lumen, a point of pride for the residents.
Galen went first to the large main room where a stage and podium awaited speakers. A huge slate board gave the solar technology inventors a way to share their equations with their audience.
“It’s not fancy, but then again, neither are we.” Annabelle Larkin came up behind Galen while he was silently counting chairs and checking on the seating arrangements, startling him. The plump, gray-haired woman chuckled at his reaction. “Sorry—didn’t mean to make you jump. We’ll pretty it up with flower arrangements and hang some quilts and artwork on the walls. That’ll give us another way to show off what people here do with their spare time.”
“It’s going to look amazing,” Galen told her. “You’re doing a great job pulling everything together.” Annabelle headed up the Lumen Merchant’s Guild. Galen trusted her to set up the presentation area and to use her influence to fill the seats with contacts from Charleston and Wheeling, where she and her late husband used to run a small newspaper.
Annabelle snickered. “Glad you agree—since I didn’t have a Plan B. Go harass the people with the display tables. Leave me in peace.”
“Don’t worry—I’ll be back,” Galen joked.
“Since you’re here, let me introduce you to someone.” Annabelle motioned to a woman with brown hair that hung in a waist-length braid. “Galen, I’d like you to meet Sara Jackson. She’s with the Charleston Weekly Star.”
Galen’s smile froze in place. “We’ve met.”
“I’ve explained that here in Lumen, we’re all on a first-name basis,” Annabelle said.
Galen nodded. “Dr. Hibbard—Taron—believes that since the sun shines on us all equally, we should all have equal rights, voices, and votes. Being less formal brings us together.”
Sara gave him an assessing gaze. “Did you memorize that for showing newcomers around Lumen?”
“No, ma’am. I read all of Taron’s books. That’s why I moved to Lumen not long after he founded the community,” Galen replied.
“Why don’t you take Sara with you to the business display room, maybe show her around?” Annabelle nudged.
“I’d love to get a sneak peek,” Sara replied. “And since you’re well-versed in all things Lumen and Dr. Hibbard’s work, I have plenty more questions.”
“I’m sure Algernon would be a better source—” Galen protested.
“I’ll talk to him at some point,” Sara said. “But I’d like to hear about Lumen from someone who isn’t one of the folks in charge.”
Annabelle gave Galen an encouraging nod. “Don’t worry. Sara doesn’t bite—unless you run a coal mine or a steel mill. She’s written some scathing exposés.”
Sara slipped an arm through his. “Now, about this business display…”
The display room was also the community gymnasium. Tables around the walls showcased Lumen’s thriving crafts and businesses, which sustained the town and created outside trade.
As they moved from table to table, Galen made introductions and kept up a running commentary. He set the tradespeople at ease, relaxing them enough to answer Sara’s questions.
From Annabelle’s comment, it was clear that Sara didn’t shy away from exposing corrupt business practices or companies that endangered their workers. Galen admired her courage. That type of reporting made dangerous enemies.
“I’m impressed,” Sara said as they left the building. “It’s practically a world’s fair in there.”
Galen smiled. “You’re too kind. The scale is a bit smaller, don’t you think?”
“Lumen is quite industrious. You use energy captured from the sun in those funny things on the roof to make your own electricity and heat your homes. You brew beer and make whiskey, keep bees for honey and candle wax. The pottery and baskets are exceptional, as are the quilts. And the weaving and lace-making were as good as any I’ve seen.”
“All the yarn is dyed here, from colors made from plants we cultivate,” Galen told her as they walked toward downtown. “The conference meals will be made from what we grow and raise. No one here is wealthy, but we’re all comfortable.”
“That’s an improvement on the world outside Lumen,” Sara replied wistfully. “The differences out there grow more extreme every day. In Pittsburgh, it’s dark at noon from the factory smoke.”
“The philosophy behind Lumen came from Taron’s love of the sun and its energy,” Galen went on, playing tour guide. “Transparency in all things to let the ‘light’ shine through. Honesty is the soul-sun that nurtures good relationships and a healthy community.”
“And all this is actually real?” Sara gave him a skeptical look.
“We’re not perfect, and sometimes people disagree. But we have processes in place to settle disputes fairly, without regard to rank.”
“Keep talking, and I might ask to stay here.”
“That’s what happened to most of us. Be careful—we might steal you away!”
“Back to my question.” She grew serious. “If Lumen’s conference changes the minds of the influential guests, there’s going to be hell to pay. Are you aware of the article Merritt just wrote for the Wheeling paper? He made Hibbard sound like a dangerous crackpot.”
Galen winced. He’d seen the article—Algernon had made sure of it. “Let him talk. We can prove our claims and, once we show our results, everyone will know Merritt and his ilk are just blowing smoke.”
Sara gave him a sidelong look. “There’s a lot of money to be lost if solar energy replaces even a fraction of coal and oil. People have done murder for less.”
“Murder?” Galen looked at her, surprised.
“Hibbard isn’t the first person to try to harness the sun,” Sara replied. “I’ve been chasing rumors that some of the big engineering companies in Pittsburgh were pressured not to put their efforts into moving away from fossil fuels.”
Galen had heard the same from the inventors who frequented Lumen, sometimes working with them in secret to not lose their jobs. He just hadn’t thought the news had leaked.
“Don’t look so surprised. I have my sources.” Sara chuckled.
They walked through Lumen’s small downtown, taking in the shops, produce market, and main park. “The conference is part of a larger event, isn’t it?” Sara finally asked.
“Our summer solstice festival celebrates the sun and everything that comes from it. It’s a week of music, special foods, games, and a contest for the most useful solar inventions. The whole thing is capped with the conference, bringing in ‘idea people’ and investors to take solar to the next step. This year is the largest-ever. It’s Lumen’s tenth anniversary.”
“Utopian communities don’t often last so long,” Sara observed. “Lumen’s done very well.”
Galen grinned. “I hope you’ll see how true that is after you’ve heard all the speakers. There’s so much more than I’ve had time to tell you.”
He dropped Sara off at Annabelle’s house where she was staying and promised to answer any further questions the next day. The Collegium had a dormitory for visitors, but it lacked the comforts and privacy of staying in a private home.
“Galen!”
He turned to see Rhys Lagron, the town’s master weaver, hurrying to catch up. She was a thin woman with sinewy arms from working the loom. Her dark hair had strands of gray, framing a handsome face.
“What can I do for you?” He felt a stir of worry in his belly.
“I had a vision while I wove,” Rhys told him. “I saw danger but not the cause of it. I know that it’s coming soon, and it will be close to you.”
“Did you see anything else?” Rhys’s visions were always true, but they could be difficult to understand except in hindsight.
“I saw barricades and a knife.” She dropped her voice. “I’m sorry—these things aren’t always clear.” When Hibbard created Lumen, he welcomed secular psychics to sense the “health” and energies of the land so the town could remain in harmony with nature. Those who came had varying clairvoyant gifts. Rhys’s ability gave her glimpses of the future.
“Thank you for the warning.”
“If I see more, I’ll tell you immediately,” the weaver promised and turned back to her shop.
Galen tried to quell the uneasiness he felt, but it only grew as he approached his office and realized the mayor and sheriff were sitting inside
“I couldn’t really ask them to stay outside,” Elizabeth said apologetically, catching him as he approached. “So I brought them in and made coffee.”
“That’s fine.” Galen glanced toward his visitors. “Did they say why they’re here?”
She shook her head. “No—but they look rather…somber.”
Galen sighed. “All right. I might as well find out what’s going on.”
He managed a nervous smile. “Mayor. Sheriff. I understand you’ve been looking for me. Forgive the delay—the conference is rather all-consuming at this point.”
Mayor Wallis Sumner was a distinguished woman in her late fifties, a matron of the community, and the overwhelming choice when Lumen’s first mayor stepped down after five years at the helm. While a woman in her position might be remarkable outside town, Hibbard’s principles enabled Lumen’s residents to pursue whatever best suited them.
Duncan Mather, the town’s sheriff, was in his late thirties with short blond hair and sharp blue eyes. He spent most of his time dealing with quibbles between residents or handling the occasional wandering drunkard, no doubt a welcome change after being the top cop in a steel town outside of Pittsburgh before moving to Lumen.
“I originally wanted to ask if we’ve organized a tour of the workshops for our guests,” the mayor said, “but we have more worrisome things to deal with now.”
Galen felt his gut tighten. “Worrisome?” He looked to Mather.
“We found your missing shipment,” the sheriff said.
“That’s good, right?” Galen’s voice trailed off at Mather’s expression.
“The wagon was in a ditch about ten miles outside of town, boxes broken open and the contents smashed. We found the wagon driver wandering a few miles away, beaten and bloody, but alive.”
“He’s been taken to a hospital, and his injuries aren’t severe. He said that robbers ambushed him,” the sheriff went on. “Which seems strange to me. We’ve never had an issue with deliveries before, and the contents weren’t particularly valuable.”
“There’s been a big wreck on the railroad line between here and Charleston—where most of our speakers and guests will be coming from. A switch didn’t get thrown and two cargo trains collided. Three men are dead and the track will need to be repaired,” Sumner chimed in, her voice laden with suspicion.
“When?” Galen’s mind spun.
“Today,” Mather grumbled. “Too late for many of our attendees to change their tickets or even find out about it. We’ll need to run wagons between Lumen and the station and recruit drivers. It’ll be chaos.”
Could our luck really be this bad? Galen thought about Rhys’s warning.
“I’ll get Elizabeth working on the wagons,” Galen promised. “We’ll rustle up plates from the townsfolk. Maybe mismatched dishes will become a Lumen tradition.”
“Keep your eyes open,” Mather said as he and Sumner took their leave. “There’s something off about all this. I don’t know what’s going on—but I intend to find out.”
Galen found Elizabeth waiting in the hallway outside. “You heard?”
“I’ve already started a list of people with wagons we can pay to go back and forth to the train station. It won’t be fancy, but it beats walking!”
“I’ll talk with Jake Carver and see if he can help us round up enough of the dishes he’s made for the dinner guests. It’s a great way to show off his pottery. And if I wire a message to Adam Farber, he might be able to bring some spare parts with him to replace the ones that were destroyed.”
Now that they had a plan, Galen felt the tightness in his gut ease. Maybe the “danger” Rhys saw was what would happen if we didn’t make alternate plans. He wanted to believe that. But if there’s no real threat, why did she see a knife in her dream?
“Have you seen the headmaster?” Galen asked. “I want to find out how his telegrams went.”
“He headed up to his office just before you came in.”
Galen took the stairs two at a time. When he saw his boss pacing, Galen feared the worst.
“Professor? What did you hear from the attendees?”
Algernon’s mussed hair suggested he had been running his hands through it. “Galen. Glad you’re here. It was almost a total mess.”
Galen’s heart dropped like a rock. “What happened?”
Algernon sighed and fell into the chair behind his desk. “It’s fixed—thanks to you suggesting the telegrams. The speakers had gotten letters with conflicting dates, and some of them told me they’d had ‘advice’ that coming here might have ‘repercussions.’ I did my best to reassure them and let them know about the train wreck. But if I hadn’t confirmed with them, the most important guests might not have made it.”
“Did everyone get bad information? Or just the key speakers?” Galen asked, suspicions rising once more.
“We didn’t check with every attendee, only the speakers, investors, and main inventors.”
In the street outside the office window, Galen saw men running. What now? “I’m glad it all worked out. I need to go look into something.” He hurried away before Algernon could ask questions.
Galen ran down the stairs and out into the street. “Hey! What’s going on?”
“Sheriff asked for help clearing the train wreck,” one of the men replied. “Put out a call for everyone to lend a hand.”
We have one day until the guests start arriving. Whether we’ve been hexed or there’s someone causing problems, all we can do is keep plowing ahead—and double-check every detail.
* * *
For the rest of the day, Galen was in constant motion, shuttling between Elizabeth at the office and Annabelle at the community center.
Galen couldn’t shake his uneasiness. He ate a sandwich at his desk and snagged a couple of cookies for supper between confirming the menus with the cook and ensuring that the dormitory had rooms ready for guests. Then he grabbed a lantern, since it was already dark, and headed back to check the community center.
“Nana Jean?” he whispered.
The ghost raised her head and met his gaze with an expression of warning. In the next heartbeat, the figure vanished.
“Galen—are you all right?” Sheriff Mather looked at him with concern. Galen hadn’t even heard him approach. “You were staring like you saw something.”
Galen shook his head, still trying to guess the apparition’s meaning. “Just deep in thought about what needs to be done. Everything go okay with the wreck?”
