Phoebe Hutchinson’s funeral guests continued to swell Lyceum’s usual number of weekend visitors for most of the day following the funeral.
The Dining Hall held a breakfast buffet from six in the morning until the lunch buffet began at eleven. Brother Robert later estimated that about two-thirds of Mrs. Hutchinson’s family and friends attended the inspirational service in the Ecumenical Temple, which was based loosely on the story of the Good Samaritan, but brought into modern terms. By the time the service ended at about half past ten, the big barbecue pits near the Amphitheater were roasting everything Lyceum could find, from hot dogs to chicken to T-bone steaks, in order to take some of the pressure off the Dining Hall as more than two thousand two hundred people began to think about something to eat.
After lunch the funeral guests had their last opportunity to look at the memorabilia on display in the Mortuary, and to wander by the gravesite to leave flowers and other tokens of their love or respect. Even many of those who had held a strictly business-like attitude the day before were now feeling the loss of someone whom, they were forced to admit, would be missed by many, including themselves. About three o’clock they began checking out of their rooms, and the seven big buses rolled away from Lyceum shortly after four, destined for Portland International Airport and their chartered dinner flight back to Raleigh, North Carolina.
Liberty and Brenda had finally finished their baking marathon as the lunch crowd thinned out in the early afternoon. Liberty went for a short swim and then fell onto her cot in Brenda’s room, sleeping deeply for the next three
hours.
Shawn and Ashley staggered back toward the Main Lobby as soon as the buses pulled out, both dead tired, but neither sure what they wanted to do next. With the funeral guests and most of the people who had come for the inspirational service gone, the buildings seemed comparatively empty, even though there were still two or three hundred visitors and four hundred members on the grounds. They found an unused couch in the Main Lobby and plopped down.
“I
have
never answered the same questions so many times before in my life!” Shawn said with a laugh and a sigh.
Ashley chuckled. “You wouldn’t believe how many times the people I helped changed their minds about what they wanted to do! And it was always at the opposite end of the campus!”
Just then Liberty approached, still rubbing an eye, and holding a folded piece of paper in her other hand.
“Hi guys. Are they gone yet? I dreamed I was baking millions and millions of croissants and dinner rolls.”
Shawn smiled. “Yes, they’re gone.”
“What’s that?” Ashley asked, pointing at the piece of paper.
“My class and work schedule,” Liberty said. “I think it’s been in my mailbox since Friday, but I’ve been so busy I just noticed it.”
“I’ve got mine right here in my pocket,” Shawn said, digging it out, “but I haven’t had a chance to look at it.”
“Wait a sec!” Ashley said, hopping up. “I’ll see if mine’s there!”
The young athlete was across the lobby and into the office in seconds, and back in seconds more. “Got it!” she said, sitting down on the floor near the couch. The other two slid off the couch and joined her on the floor, and they all three unfolded their papers and laid them flat for examination.
“Here’s my pilot training on Tuesdays,” Liberty began exploring her schedule and explaining it as she went. “And there’s my simulator time on Thursday evening. I can schedule more time, but it’s booked solid except for the wee hours of the morning. Oh, yes! Check it out! Aeronautics on Monday and Navigation on Wednesday. Oh, fu... fardles. I can’t start them until September.”
“I’ve got things like that too,” Shawn said in sympathy.
“Me too,” Ashley commiserated.
“Hey! But I can start my Helicopter Maintenance class this Thursday!”
“Is that all you’ve got, just helicopter stuff?” Ashley said, peeking at Liberty’s schedule. “Oh, you’ve got Literature, and History, and G.E.D. just like me. Have you got those, Shawn?”
“Nope. Probably because I’ve already finished High School. I can start my General Science class, but I have to wait ‘til October to start Physics.”
“Science, huh?” Liberty said, peeking. “And you’ve got Comparative Religion and Christianity. Wow, you cover all bases! I thought people who were into religion didn’t like science...?”
Shawn smiled. “But this is Lyceum!”
Ashley looked at her two older friends, wondering if they’d make a good couple someday. “What kind of languages do you guys have?”
“Greek,” Shawn said. “Looks like I can start this week.”
“Russian,” Liberty said. “What’s yours?”
“French.”
“French
three?” Liberty exclaimed, glancing at Ashley’s schedule. “Oh, yeah, you already speak it. You’ve got a Math class?”
“Yeah, something I’m not very good at. Computer Control Systems?”
Ashley said, looking at Liberty’s paper. “Sounds hard!”
“I don’t know. It’s so I can be a Technician’s Assistant in the Temple and Planetarium and other places. I think it’ll help me understand the Heliport Control Room too. Hey, how often do you have Gymnastics, anyway?”
“Every day. Well, I mean, the class is three hours a day, Monday through Friday...”
The other two whistled in disbelief.
“...but we’re supposed to catch some gym time on weekends, too. I should have gone last night, but I didn’t get done with things until midnight.”
“Me neither,” Shawn said. “Am I reading this wrong, Ashley, or do you really have an Exercise class five days a week, at 5:30 in the morning?”
Ashley giggled with embarrassment. “Uh huh. It’ll be my personal conditioning time. No stranger than getting up in the middle of the night to use the helicopter simulator!” she said, grinning at Liberty.
“What’s Depth History?” Liberty asked, peeking at Ashley’s schedule again.
“I read about that,” Shawn said. “It digs into the history of certain interesting or critical times and places in depth. Does one a month, as I remember.”
“Yeah. I can’t start it ‘til September,” Ashley said. “Hey, we all have Gardening!”
“I think every new member has to take that, so they don’t totally trash their garden plot!” Liberty said. Then she looked at her schedule again.
“Childcare! Why do I have a Childcare class?”
Shawn smiled. “Because you work in the Children’s Program one day a week... and also because you’re a young lady.”
“Don’t feel bad. I have it too,” Ashley said. “What’s your vocational class, Shawn? I mean, besides gardening.”
“Laboratory Procedures. And I work in the labs one day a week.”
“Neat!” Liberty said with true admiration. “Okay, let’s compare work. I’ve got one four-hour shift in the Children’s Program, one baking, one Tech Assistant, and four one-hour shifts in the Horse Barn.”
“The horses must be your ‘simple, humbling work,’ as Sister Patricia would say,” Shawn observed.
“I don’t mind it. I love horses. It’s the little kids I’m not so sure about.”
Shawn read off his work schedule. “I’ve got one shift in the Children’s Program, one in janitorial, one in the Library, one as a Lab Technician, and...
hmmm, this is interesting... one in the Art Gallery...?”
“How’d you get that?” Ashley asked.
“Hmm... I think I know. I’ll fill you in later if my hunch is correct. What do you have?” he asked Ashley.
“One in the Children’s Program, one in the kitchen...”
“I don’t suppose it’s four to eight in the morning, like mine...” Liberty said, interrupting.
“Nope, Sunday evening, starting next week. And then I have four one-hour Beginning Gymnastics classes, and I’m on-call for French interpreting.”
“I thought you were an elite gymnast,” Shawn said, a little confused.
“She is!” Liberty blurted out. This is her work. She’s the coach of the
beginning classes, dim-wit!”
Both Shawn and Ashley looked at Liberty, he with a hurt look on his face, she with disappointment that Liberty was letting her street language and tone slip in already.
“Hey, I’m sorry,” Liberty said. “I really didn’t mean it. Please believe me.
It just slips out so easily sometimes. Really, I’m sorry.”
Both Shawn and Ashley let their faces change to smiles.
“Forgiven,” Shawn said. “But watch it, or you’ll be doing my Children’s Program shift!” he added in jest with a grin. “We know what Ashley’s doing for Physical Education. I’ve got Aerobics and Choir. Don’t ask me why they put Choir in that category. What’ve you got?”
“Swimming, twice a week. I’m looking forward to it. The swim coach did my final interview. He’s cool.”
“Actually,” Ashley began, “I also have Ballet and Interpretive Dance. One dance class was required for elite gymnastics, but I couldn’t decide.”
“Jeez, aren’t you going to wear yourself out?” Liberty asked.
“Be respectful, Lib...” Shawn reminded.
“No, she’s right. Most gymnasts retire by twenty. It can tear your body apart unless you’re really careful. I’ve got some secrets I use. But ribbons and medals take a lot of work, no matter how careful you are.”
Shawn looked at his schedule again. “Do you guys have the same three classes that I do on Monday morning — Procedures, Ethics, and Hospitality?”
They
looked.
“Yep.”
“Me too. They shouldn’t be too hard, since we all survived this weekend!”
Liberty said.
“Really!” Ashley agreed.
Shawn glanced at his watch. “Hey, it’s almost five, and we get to eat in the Dining Hall for the first time in days!”
“What are you guys doing tonight?” Liberty asked.
“Gym.”
“Some personal prayer time, and then a walk with Brother Jacob. How about you?”
“Swimming and hot pool, and then plenty of blissful, uninterrupted sleep,
free from the need to shape even one dinner roll or cut even one biscuit!”
Liberty said. Then a thought occurred to her, and she snatched up her schedule sheet. “Until Wednesday at four o’clock in the morning, that is!”
Her friends laughed.
Ashley was anxious to get back into the gym that evening, but first she slipped into the office to write the letter she had been meaning to send for several days.
TO:
JulieMK@Dakota.net
FROM: AshleyMarie1042@UnitedNations.net DATE: 06
August
TIME:
18:37:40
Dear Julie,
I was accepted! Your lessons on the computer have already come in handy, as everything is computerized here. We had this huge funeral last weekend, and I was helping with babies and wheelchairs and trays of food the whole time.
I get to move into my own room in a couple of days, and if you’re ever out this way, please visit me. I get almost a month of vacation every year, so I’ll be in Rapid City sometime, but I don’t know when yet.
Since I owe it to you that I discovered Lyceum in the first place, I’m sending you the catalog from the Gift Shop, and a fifty dollar gift certificate that I got at the end of evaluation week. Pick anything you want!
Thanks for being my friend!
See you!
Ashley
The three friends first had a chance to exchange words on Monday when they all arrived at their Procedures class a few minutes early.
“I just got off work!” Liberty said with pride. “I thought I would have to take care of horses alone like I did at home, but there was a lady there, Sister
Claire, who told me everything I needed to know, and Sarah was brushing a couple of the horses, and other people were working with the other animals —
it was almost like a party! Everyone was talking about the funeral, and everyone was glad it was Monday!”
Ashley sniffed Liberty melodramatically. “Just be sure to take a shower before greeting important guests!”
“Hey, it was come right here or be late! A little barnyard aroma won’t hurt you. How was your 5:30 exercise class?”
“It’s mostly grown-ups trying to stay in shape, but there’s a couple of others who are training for things. Did you have any classes yet, Shawn?”
“Yes, Christianity. I was a little nervous at first — the teacher started by pointing out that it was a Christianity class, not a Bible class, and that she used lots of different materials and different points of view.”
“You must come from a church that mostly uses the Bible,” Liberty said.
“Yeah. Exclusively. But I figure I’ll learn more this way, since I already know a lot about the Bible.”
“That’s the spirit!” Liberty said, giving him a friendly punch in the shoulder.
At that moment several other students were arriving and entering the classroom. Ashley recognized Sister Jennifer.
“Hi,
Jennifer.”
“Hi, Ashley! I saw you working your tail off at the funeral. Want to sit with me?”
“Sure!”
Everyone found seats, as the teacher, a slender man who came in carrying stacks of books and folders, was getting ready at the front table.
“Good morning, Sisters and Brothers. Everyone have enough excitement over the weekend?”
The entire class chuckled.
“Any procedural questions?”
A hand went up. “A family came into the Recreation Center who had been given a pass by someone in the funeral party. I wasn’t sure if something like that was transferable or not. I gave them the benefit of the doubt, but I wanted to ask you also.”
“You did the right thing. Anything we issue that says or implies it has value should hold that value in every possible situation where there is the slightest doubt. Even if it said Not Transferable, it would have to name the person to whom it was originally issued, and then we would have to check I.D., which we all hate doing.” Many people in the class made noises of agreement. “But in this case, the family volunteered the information that the pass had been transferred to them, and there was no name on it. They acted honorably, and placed themselves at your mercy. That act deserves all possible credit. Can everyone see the issues involved?”
Most everyone nodded.
“Thank you,” the person said who had asked the question, clearly relieved.
Several more procedural questions emerged from the events of the weekend. Liberty guessed that all fifteen people in the class had joined Lyceum within the last year or two. Then the teacher took some little blue booklets out of an envelope.
“Okay, next topic is I.D. books. We have three new members with us today for the first time, and their books are ready, so I’ll go through the basic explanations, and invariably doing so clears up questions that older members have. Who is Sister Ashley Marie?”
Ashley raised her hand and received her little blue book, still not quite used to having the title added to her name.
“And you must be Sister Liberty, and you must be Brother Shawn.
Welcome, all three of you. These are your Lyceum Identification Books. On the cover you will see, in English, Russian, Chinese, and French, the names of the documents they contain.”
“How were those four languages selected?” a lady asked.
“Those are the four languages in which international business and diplomacy are conducted today. Any border official will recognize key words in at least one of those, even if his native tongue is Swahili or Urdu. No diplomat worth his salt speaks less than two of those.”
“Thank
you.”
He again focused on the three new members. “Notice that on the cover are both the symbols of Lyceum and of the United Nations. That is because these books are also approved by the United Nations as containing all essential
diplomatic I.D. and credentials. Now that isn’t to say you have any diplomatic credentials yet. It just means they contain the necessary spaces.”
He paused to let his last statement soak in.
“The first two pages inside the front cover have a description of Lyceum and its relationship to the United Nations, as well as the addresses and contact numbers of all public Lyceum offices. As you can see, it is again in four languages. These numbers can be used by anyone to verify credentials or to obtain assistance for the member in any kind of emergency.”
“So if I was overseas,” a man began, “and got so sick I couldn’t even talk on the phone, and someone found this and called, saying they needed money to help me, would Lyceum just send it?”
The teacher suppressed a grin. “No. That would leave us too open to extortion. We would send another member, or a small team if it was in a dangerous area or we thought something fishy was afoot. You’d get whatever help you needed just as quickly that way, and we’d reimburse the caller for their expenses and efforts. Then there would be another member with you to help you get home or whatever was indicated.”
The man nodded, obviously in harmony with the answer he had received.
“Okay, on the next page is your biographical information — your name, and its transliterations into Chinese, Cyrillic, Arabic, Greek, Hebrew, Hindi, and Malay so that people will be able to pronounce it almost anywhere in the world. Also your birthdate, the name of your Lyceum campus, and your Lyceum member number.”
Liberty had number 1043. She glanced at Shawn’s, who had 1044.
“The next page contains several items of graphic identification — your picture, your signature, your thumb prints, and a small but unique part of your D.N.A. sequence. If all that isn’t serious enough identification, on the bottom of that page is also your Interpol file number.”
Shawn and Liberty looked at each other. Lyceum, they both realized, didn’t leave anything to chance.
“Turning the page you will find your yearly membership validations.
These embossed holographic stickers, overlaid by an indelible ink stamp, are a different shape every year, and they’re almost impossible to forge. People have tried. You can get the following year’s sticker after December first,
earlier if you have need.”
Liberty was very glad to see the current year’s sticker in her book, with spaces for fifteen more.
“On the next page are the eight levels of U.N. diplomatic clearance. I imagine this page is blank for you three, as it is for most everyone else in the class at this point. Don’t feel bad — it took me two years to get my first U.N.
clearance.”
Ashley stared in amazement the moment she turned to the page he was describing. There, before her eyes, was Level One Diplomatic Clearance, sticker, stamp, signature, and date. She immediately turned red with embarrassment, and wondered if she should ask if it was a mistake or not.
“When you do get these clearances, they are based on your languages of fluency and your foreign residencies, which are enumerated a little further on...”
Jennifer noticed and whispered in Ashley’s ear, “What language do you know?”
“French,” Ashley whispered.
“...but on the next page is your medical information — blood type, allergies, diet, drug contraindications, severe or chronic conditions, corrective lenses, other adaptive devices, you name it. Make sure it’s all correct, as well as everything else in your I.D. books, and get with Sister Leonora in the office if anything isn’t just right. It’s a lot easier to fix it now than when you’re halfway around the world on a mission.”
Ashley decided to do so as soon as possible, just to be sure.
“The next eight pages are technically for mission stamps, and again they are probably blank for you three...”
Ashley looked. Two of the spaces on the first page were filled in with multicolored stamps, mission numbers, signatures, and dates. Those dates looked familiar. Suddenly Ashley realized what was happening. Lyceum was recognizing the assignments she had already completed, even though she was not a member at the time. The date listed for Service Mission #23-0435 was about when she completed her volunteer time at the Rapid City Convalescent Center, and the date listed for Service Mission #23-1197 was the last day of the South Dakota Special Olympics.
“...but there is also an interesting story behind these pages. We discovered that border officials, especially in third-world countries, would mistake our I.D. books for passports, and apply their entry or exit stamp before we could say anything. So we now label these pages Mission and Travel Stamps, and most of us have a few items in them that should have gone in our passports.
Turns out it’s no big deal — our I.D. books are more respected internationally than the passports of many countries.”
A couple of people in the room, from third-world countries, nodded in agreement.
“Next comes several pages for credentials. They’re grouped into Languages, Cultural Residencies, Professional, Educational, and Other Credentials.”
Ashley found her French fluency and Luxemburg-France residency credentials and smiled. Each had the key words in the four languages of diplomacy, along with holographic stickers, signatures, and dates. Shawn was proud to find his high school graduation listed. Liberty did not yet have any clearances or credentials, but her mind was racing as she made plans to fill in many of the spaces in her book in the coming years. She could imagine her pilot’s license listed under Professional Credentials, her G.E.D. under Educational Credentials, and her planned Russian fluency under Languages.
She wondered where she would do her first foreign residency...
“And that brings us to the three medically-related documents at the end of the book. For the Vaccination Certificate, make sure that any vaccinations you’ve had, whether or not they were for international travel, get copied from other records into the appropriate spaces by one of the doctors in the clinic.”
Liberty remembered that her father was supposed to send that stuff.
“Make sure that any medications you might need or want to take with you when traveling, even if they’re not prescription in this country, get into your Certificate of Prescription Drugs. They might be strictly controlled in another country.”
“Even aspirin?” Jennifer asked.
“Even
vitamins!” the teacher said. “You wouldn’t believe the trouble you can get in over anything that looks like a pill, a powder, especially if it’s white, or a lump of clay. We have a class on travel preparations in a few weeks, and
some printed material that you all need to be familiar with.”
Ashley thought of her gym chalk, and almost laughed out loud that someone would mistake it for a drug.
“And finally, you have all passed a Group A virus test, or you wouldn’t be here. It has to be repeated yearly, sometimes more often if you’re doing a lot of traveling, and the results go in your International Virus Certificate. If you ever fail the Group A test, any U.N. clearances you have are immediately suspended, and you become ineligible for international missions or residencies until you can get rid of the virus and pass the test... if that is even possible. We all need to keep that in mind when considering sexual relationships and when exposed to blood or other body fluids.”
Liberty swallowed hard, and found herself pondering the implications of the International Virus Certificate for the remainder of the class period.
At noon, Shawn hurried to the Gallery for his first shift of assigned work.
He entered quietly, as no one seemed to be there except for an elderly man peering at the artworks. But he had only stood there a few seconds when Sister Rachael’s voice came from an open doorway.
“I’m back here, Shawn.”
He poked his head through the door. The tall, late middle-aged lady was sitting on a stool in the middle of the well-equipped studio and frame shop, trying different colors of matte board next to a pastel chalk drawing that was pinned to a set-up easel. An oil painting in progress filled a large easel near the glass outer wall that looked over part of the Main Plaza. She adjusted the two lights that illuminated the drawing from above, and tossed the matte board sample back in the pile.
“Have
you
eaten?”
“Um, no. I just got out of Hospitality class.”
“Why don’t you hit the kitchen before we get into anything. Get yourself a hearty lunch, and a tray for me. Make sure you tell them it’s for me — there are a number of things I can’t eat.”
“Sure,” Shawn said. “I’ll be back in a jiffy!”
“I’d rather you took your time and not risk dropping my tray,” she said, and looked at Shawn for the first time, a smile in her eyes.
Shawn smiled back, then walked at a leisurely pace to the Dining Hall for their lunches. When he returned, Rachael was completing the sale of an oil painting to the elderly man he had seen earlier. The painting sat majestically on a display easel as they discussed proper lighting, the best environment for its preservation, and other matters. Finally the man agreed to the asking price of one thousand five hundred dollars and extended a credit card.
Rachael packed the valuable art object into a sturdy travel case and they shook hands.
By the time the lunch hour was over, Shawn and Rachael had thoroughly discussed the artistic merits of the pastel drawing on the set-up easel between bites of food from where they sat on their stools at the opposite end of the work table. Rachael had, in that time, introduced Shawn to dozens of concepts and terms about compositional balance, contrast, color harmony, apparent texture, apparent depth, and viewing distance.
Then, after washing their hands, they spent the next half hour deciding together on the proper colors of matte board for the work in question, and finally selected two values of the same green hue, which brought out all the good qualities of the drawing, they both agreed, when placed in a neutral satin textured frame.
Shawn then learned the essentials of matte cutting, and to his own amazement only trashed one piece of board. By three o’clock they had the frame complete and the drawing permanently protected under glass.
“How much will we sell it for?” he asked.
“Depends,” she answered, stepping to a computer. “Let me see... we paid five hundred and fifty for it, and we’re putting another fifty into it today, which I will enter here where it says ‘Value of Added Material.’ I’ll try to get eight hundred, but there are situations in which I’d let it go for less, and there are people I wouldn’t sell it to for under a thousand — the sharks and those who abuse art. Let’s go look at the studios.”
During the remainder of his shift, Shawn received a thorough tour of the several different types of art studios across from the audio and video production areas. He had passed them many times on his way to and from the conference centers, but had never thought much about them. One contained easels and drawing boards and supplies for every imaginable type
of painting, drawing, and drafting. Twenty artists could have worked comfortably in the room at the same time, but at the moment there were only six, one of whom was a Lyceum member on duty to provide assistance and suggestions.
“Oh, Rachael, did you know you’re nearly out of burnt umber acrylic?” a golden-haired lady of about fifty years said from her stool and easel.
“Good afternoon, Margaret. I’ll make sure we get it in promptly. How’s the still life progressing?”
“I have troubles with the shadows...”
“Yes, I can see that... if you make your dark gray by mixing cobalt blue with this orange, you can vary the amount of each to make your shadows warmer or cooler. And you definitely need cooler shadows in this situation.”
“Let me see... about like this? Let me try a dab of that here in the deepest shadow... why, yes! I believe that was my problem! Thank you again, Rachael. Sister Jackie is very helpful, but she doesn’t have your depth of experience.”
Next they toured the sculpture studio, where people were working in clay, plaster, stone, wood, metal, plastic, and several materials that Shawn didn’t even recognize.
“Next week I’d like you to get box lunches for both of us, and then meet me in the Gallery so we can be on the road by 12:15. We’ll hit several local galleries that might have some new stuff, and it will give you a chance to hone your eye for quality art. Today was good — one sale, one frame job, and your orientation. I’ll see you next week, if not before.”
Shawn had so much enjoyed his shift in the Gallery that he completely forgot to ask why it had been on his schedule in the first place. He headed for his next class, Beginning Greek, with a light heart.
That same afternoon, Coach Faelan worked intensely with Ashley on all those compulsory skills for which she had not given herself perfect scores the week before, and a few others for which he wouldn’t have given her perfect scores. She practiced and practiced them, and knew she would have to continue to do so in the coming days and weeks. But almost more importantly to Ashley, the slight loss of strength and lightness that she had
experienced recently, especially right after evaluation week, was starting to leave, and her coaches and team mates were starting to compliment her on the smoothness of her skill transitions and landings.
Dinner that evening was especially tasty, both because Ashley was feeling very good about her new phase of gymnastics training, and because it included a number of delicious left-overs from the previous day, including some barbecued items.
When she stepped into her French 3 classroom a few minutes before seven o’clock, she was surprised to discover that the room contained four very large and intricate game boards, all of which were set up and seemingly in the middle of a game. More game boxes were stacked on shelves on one side of the room. Without touching anything, she peered at the games that were laid out on the tables. Myths And Magic looked like fun, and Classical Cultures was clearly the largest and most complex. Just then other students began arriving.
They looked a little confused when they saw Ashley. They started speaking French, as they obviously knew they should, but some of them were tempted to slip into English just long enough to help the short little girl, whom they knew had just become a member, to figure out what classroom she should be in.
Ashley figured out their discomfort, forgave them in her mind, and spoke in fluent French with a smile. “Quel jeu jouons-nous?”
After a few exchanges, the other students learned that Ashley was indeed in the right room, and Ashley learned that they were playing International Diplomacy. They apologized for their earlier discomfort, in French, and one of them, an older man named Brother Patrick, explained that rarely did people join Lyceum already fluent in a foreign language, and never, in their experience, had a young person done so.
The teacher entered a few moments later, and after speaking to Ashley for a minute to determine her level of fluency, the game began. It lasted for a solid hour, during which there were seldom less that three conversations taking place simultaneously, in French, as the players made their strategies and engaged in diplomatic meetings. Ashley was given the governorship of an island, which had been left leaderless when a member departed for an
overseas assignment several weeks before. Ashley soon learned that the island was a prime piece of real estate on which one of the other players wanted to build an air force base. The local people, however, wanted to keep the island an attractive tourist haven. She soon realized that the governorship of the island would be as interesting, and difficult, as any of the roles being played by the more experienced students.
With only minutes to spare, Ashley dashed to her last class of the day, which was meeting in the Lyceum Arena. She and Karen slapped hands, and at the teacher’s request, they walked to the Pro Shop together to get Ashley fitted in pink tights, black leotard, and leather dance shoes.
When they returned, the class had split into beginning, intermediate, and advanced sections, each with an assistant teacher. Karen joined the intermediates, and Ashley could see Sarah in the advanced section.
Ashley spent the rest of the hour discovering that every different athletic activity required strength and control of different sets of muscles, and the muscles she had developed for gymnastics had partly, but by no means completely, prepared her to be a ballet dancer.
Even though his attempted telephone conversation nearly three weeks before had not gone well, Shawn wasn’t ready to give up. He addressed the envelope directly to his mother, and then penned a short letter.
August 7th
Dear Mother,
I’ve started both work and college classes, which include religion classes.
I have good teachers, and I’ve made several new friends. I have my first choir practice tomorrow.
I hope everything is well with you and Dad. Please don’t worry about me.
Love,
Shawn
Chapter 4: Not as Easy as it Looks
Only two months before, Ashley Marie Riddle had been just a slightly above average student at Rushmore Elementary School in Rapid City, South Dakota. She was generally well known at school and around town, of course, because of her gymnastics championship, but nothing about her school performance itself had earned her any attention or reward, either positive or negative.
Successfully maintaining the basically good grades she brought home on every report card, given her gymnastics training schedule, would have earned her some kind of award if such things could be taken into account by school officials. As it was, only her adoptive parents, and her fellow gymnasts, knew the amount of effort such a feat required.
When Ashley’s parents called her last school and told them that Ashley would be living in Oregon and that they needed a copy of her school records, the school officials simply assumed their ex-student would be attending junior high at her new locale.
Now, on her second Tuesday as a member of Lyceum, in the middle of August when most students her age had their minds on anything but school, Ashley sweated through her first Essentials of Mathematics class at eight o’clock, thoroughly enjoyed her English Literature class at nine because three other students were making presentations, was a little nervous in her World History class at ten, and was quite amazed by the thickness of the study guide in her G.E.D. Preparation class at eleven. The first three were college level.
The last one would enable her to skip junior high and high school.
On the way to lunch, with a thick mathematics text book, a paperback copy of The Once and Future King, her own Timetables of History that she could make notes in, and a G.E.D. practice book, all stacked under one arm, Ashley wondered when she was going to find time for all the necessary reading.
But then she thought again, and reminded herself that those were all her hard classes, all on one day, except for Depth History on Friday starting in September. All she had to do was spread her reading out during the week and she’d be okay.
But the idea that she was studying to finish high school, and in the meantime would be earning college credit, was still a little unnerving. She had never imagined that her efforts to get elite gymnastics training would lead to such a situation.
Shawn had a couple of hours free after Choir Practice, and knowing this, Brother Jacob had asked Shawn to meet him at the room they had been sharing for the last few days in Avalon Hall.
When Shawn arrived, the door was ajar, and Jacob was not within. Shawn entered, and was immediately surprised to discover that the cot and all of his belongings were gone. He was beginning to feel a little miffed when he noticed a small paper sticker on the end table he had been using. It had a picture of a strawberry on it.
Shawn smiled and looked around. Just as he suspected, he soon spotted another strawberry sticker, this one on the balcony railing just outside the door. He stepped out, closing the door behind him.
Even as he looked around, he heard someone suppress a giggle, somewhere above him, he thought. He soon found the next sticker a few yards along the second floor balcony.
The trail continued, all the way to the stairs, and then up. They led him out onto the third floor, on the opposite side of the large interior open space from Brother Jacob’s room. Finally he came to the last sticker, on a door. He tried the handle. It wasn’t locked, so he pushed it open.
“SURPRISE!” about ten people shouted at once. They immediately surrounded him, blowing party horns and popping party crackers. He was
grinning from ear to ear as someone put a party hat on his head. Jacob was there, and Sarah, and Brother Howard and Sister Rachael, and several other people from the same residence hall.
“Okay, everyone, let’s give the poor guy a peek!” Jacob said.
They all stepped aside. Shawn had been expecting a little room, like his bedroom back at home. What he saw was his own apartment, the same size as Jacob’s, with a desk and bookshelf, a tiny refrigerator and sink, a bed and dresser, a round table and two chairs, and a little bathroom with a shower.
Shawn could see that his few belongings were arranged in their proper places around the room. His eyes were big and his mouth was open. On the round table was a cake and a carton of ice cream.
“It’s... it’s... fantastic!”
“Hooray!” several people shouted.
Rachael quickly served the cake and ice cream as several people had to leave soon for other duties. Shawn was kept busy receiving house-warming gifts from everyone present, and many more from others in Avalon Hall who couldn’t be there. Most were small and simple: wall hangings and posters, desk tools, kitchen and bathroom accessories. Shawn felt warm and wonderful inside, and knew he would be right at home in his little apartment.
Jacob and Rachael and Sarah lingered for almost an hour, and they sat in the chairs or on the bed and talked about many things, like the other pieces of furniture and decorating materials that were available in various store rooms, and about how to use the small computer panel on the wall, and about the social gatherings that were held in Avalon Hall that Shawn may not yet know about.
Finally his guests departed to let him get settled.
Shawn spent a few minutes cleaning up the party left-overs, and then wandered about his new room... his very own apartment. He decided that its complement of furniture was completely adequate. It was his meager possessions that were still badly in need of supplementing. He looked at his bookshelf. There were his Lyceum books, his Ethics textbook and his Greek lexicon, and the book he had just received that morning in his Comparative Religion class. There also was the little book from his grandmother.
Something was missing.
It took him a moment to realize that he had no Bible. He had given it to Todd back in Greenville. That had been the right thing to do, but now that he was settling into his work and studies, he knew he would be wanting one. He grabbed his wallet from the desk and looked inside. He had almost two hundred dollars, as he had made sixty-five in tips at the funeral. But there in his wallet was also his fifty dollar gift certificate from evaluation week. He dashed down the two flights of stairs and through the woods.
The Gift Shop had a wide selection of Bibles and other religious literature.
He looked them over carefully. One was almost identical to his old Bible, the same translation that his old church used... the same translation that his old church required, he remember with some distaste. His eyes kept moving.
Then something caught his eye — a thick volume containing the New Testament in the original Greek and four English translations, one of which was the one he was used to. Having just started his Greek language class, it seemed as though it had been placed there just for him. He snatched it up, and then remembered that Sarah’s birthday was coming up that very weekend. He looked around.
Finding something that felt right was harder than he had realized. She wasn’t grown up, but at the same time she had grown up long ago, compared to most kids her age. He finally settled on an attractive arrangement of dried fruits and nuts in a shallow woven basket. He could imagine her nibbling on them slowly, savoring them, while she sat by the ponds in the middle of the night, watching the fish, or gazing at the stars. He approached the counter.
“Hello, Shawn,” the middle-aged oriental lady said.
He tried to remember her name, but couldn’t. His face must have revealed his embarrassment.
“I know you have many new names to remember. I’m Susan, from your Christianity class.”
“That’s right! How are you?”
“I’m very well, thank you. You know, there are always Bibles in the book exchange room over in the Residential Lobby... but you won’t find one of these in there.”
“Hmm... maybe I’ll look there for an Old Testament, but I really want this
also. I’m studying Greek.”
“Well, then, this has no equal. It’ll give you great insight into the problems of translation. How about a cloth cover for it that’ll zip closed?”
“Um, I saw those, but I sort of wanted to hold my expenses to this fifty dollar gift certificate.” He unfolded it and handed it to the lady.
“And you’re now a member of Lyceum, remember? As I heard it, you put in many hours on that funeral. But if you prefer, just consider it a gift from me.” She walked to the display of book covers and selected the proper size.
Shawn smiled. “The peace of Jesus Christ go with you.”
“And with you, Brother Shawn.”
After dinner that evening, Liberty was just finishing her chore of resetting the tables for the next meal when the large lady named Sister Mary, who often worked in the kitchen, stepped out into the members’ dining area carrying a box. She looked at the few members who were still present, and her gaze stopped at Liberty.
“Honey, do you have a few minutes to run an errand for me?”
Liberty looked at the clock. “I have fifteen...”
“That’s plenty. I just got a call from the Welcome Center. They’re running low on things. Would you take these supplies out to them?”
“Sure, Sister Mary. Hey, that cod was delicious!”
“Brother Glen prepared it. I’ll pass along your compliment.”
Liberty set the last few places, stowed the silverware trays, and tucked the box of cookies, crackers, and beverage packets under her arm.
When she arrived at the Welcome Center, she could see why they had run low. A large tour bus was just loading, and there were still many people in the gardens and plaza. She stocked the refreshment table and gave the rest to the member on duty to stash away. Then she headed toward the stables at a fast walk, deciding as she went that it would be quickest to use the path that went by the picnic area and playground.
As she approached the playground, she could see ahead of her on the walkway the boy who was about sixteen leading a llama in the same direction she was going. As she remembered, he always seemed to be somewhere in the zoo taking care of an animal when she was working with the horses. He didn’t
see her coming. Just then a little girl of about four, who was also walking in the same direction with her mother, spoke to him.
“What’s
that?”
“This is a Peruvian Llama,” he said. “Her name is Matilda. She’s heading toward home for the day after giving lots of rides to little girls and boys.
Would you like a ride?”
“Could I, Mom? Could I?”
Liberty hung back and just watched. She saw that he was wearing jeans and a cowboy shirt. It was the first time she had taken a good look at him.
“Well,
we
are heading that way,” the girl’s mother said. “It’s okay, Honey.
The Petting Zoo is still open, isn’t it?”
“Yes, until nine,” the boy said. “I’m Brother Jason,” he said, lifting the little girl onto the llama. “Are you enjoying your visit to Lyceum?” He began to lead the llama with one hand, keeping his other hand on the girl’s back for safety.
Liberty was rapidly becoming impressed with what she saw.
“It’s great!” the little girl said.
“I was especially appreciative that you had childcare available,” the lady said. “That made it possible for me to see the museum and take in a planetarium show on a topic that wouldn’t have been interesting to little Jessica.”
Liberty walked along behind, thinking and wondering. He was good looking. Very good looking. Shawn wasn’t bad either, but... maybe just as a friend. She wasn’t sure she and Shawn would click socially, and...
emotionally.
Jason set the little girl down, and she and her mother went off toward the Petting Zoo. He led the llama into the small animal barn. Liberty dashed toward the horse barn, hoping she wasn’t late.
No classes were scheduled on Wednesday mornings. It was reserved for meetings, both of the Lyceum Council itself, and of numerous departments, programs, and special task groups afterwards.
To make this possible, events were rarely scheduled during that time, and as few Lyceum members as possible had work assignments.
Lyceum’s three new members had already been shown how to use the computers to find out what meetings were taking place. None were relevant to them on that particular Wednesday.
But at the meeting of the Lyceum Council, Sister Leonora, who currently had stewardship of all member records, excitedly stood to give her report.
“The three young people who were accepted out of the last evaluation week are really a pleasure to work with. All three are getting settled in quickly, and have sunk their teeth into classes and work assignments already. They were all extremely helpful during the event last weekend, and made some good tips, I understand. And as an added bonus, they appear to be fast friends. The youngest, Sister Ashley, is fluent in French and has Level One clearance.
Sister Liberty is a U.S. senator’s daughter, and her I.Q. is almost off the scale.
Brother Shawn is the sweetest boy you’ll ever meet, and very religious. In addition, acceptance letters have been sent out to seven other prospective members from the same group, five of whom have indicated an interest in resident membership...”
August 8th
Dear Jenny,
I’ve been accepted, and I get to continue my gymnastics training now! I have classes that are all college level, and two different kinds of work, three different kinds starting next month.
But I really miss you. I miss taking you down to the snack bar, and going window shopping together, and sitting out on the porch and listening to you play your recorder.
As soon as I know when my vacation’s going to be, I’ll let you know. I want to spend part of it in Rapid City with my parents and you and one other friend.
So until I get to see you again, keep looking up at the stars, and keep playing your beautiful songs whenever you can!
Your friend forever,
Ashley
Ashley was in a very bouncy mood that morning following the house warming party in her newly assigned apartment in Rivendell Hall that had been put on by Karen, Tabitha, Coaches Shannon and Faelan, Sister Heather, and several others.
But when she arrived back at her room after posting her letter to Jenny, she couldn’t get to the door. Four huge boxes, which had obviously just come through the mail, blocked her way.
Ashley hadn’t been doing push-ups and sit-ups for six years for nothing.
After determining that they had come from her parents in Rapid City, a few minutes of pushing and shoving brought all the boxes into her apartment.
With the pocket knife she kept in her purse, she opened the box labeled Letter Enclosed, and amongst a collection of her own belongings, she soon found it.
August 3rd
Dearest Ashley,
Your mother and I are so very happy for you. That isn’t to say that tears aren’t flowing around here, but that’s just because you’ve been such a wonderful daughter, and we’re going to miss you so much...
Tears were flowing in one particular residence hall room at Lyceum as well as in Rapid City. Ashley was not prepared for the intense homesickness she began to experience as she read the letter from her parents. She sat down on her bed and looked at all the things in the big box that had once sat on her shelves, or been tucked neatly into her dresser drawers, back in her room in her adoptive parent’s house. Knowing all those thing were now with her at Lyceum made her painfully aware that she was no longer living at home, and could no longer feel her mother’s arms around her when she was sad about something, could no longer sit with her father in the living room and talk about how their respective days had gone. She suddenly realized how much she had given up to get her elite gymnastics training... and her Lyceum membership.
After a few minutes, she finished reading the letter, and than began to
slowly unpacked her clothes, books, games, dolls, and a few new things her parents had thrown in as gifts.
...and even though your grandmother will be using your room for awhile, this is still your home any time you need it, and if anything happens to your membership out there, we’ll welcome you with open arms...
Coach Faelan was understanding when Ashley showed up fifteen minutes late for gymnastics with red eyes and, if she had had one, her tail dragging between her legs.
August 9th
Dear Reverend Walker,
I’m sorry I wasn’t able to continue volunteering at the mission, but I made some tips last weekend that I wanted you to have to help with the work there.
Please say hello to everyone for me, especially Charlie in the kitchen.
Sincerely,
Shawn Mitchell
Shawn’s first initiation into the world of Science happened that Thursday, starting with his General Science class at eight in the morning, and followed by his Laboratory Procedures class at ten. During both he was aware that his first shift as a Lab Technician would be that very afternoon.
His initial reaction was a sense of joy at the many, many ways in which he could see the hand of God at work. In every diagram he could see the beauty, in every formula he could see the inherent simplicity, and in every chart he could see the wonderful inter-relationships between one phenomenon and another.
But toward the end of General Science, and definitely as he began Lab Procedures, he became aware that he was extremely unprepared for many of the kinds of thinking and doing that science required.
His mathematics skills were not at all bad, but he quickly discovered that he had never really learned how to use them. Most of the other students seemed to know exactly when and how to transpose a formula in order to place the unknown term by itself on one side of the equation. Shawn was only able to do so with great mental effort, and only with the simplest formulas.
When they began to work with glassware, Shawn found that no amount of wishing or talking had any effect on the results. He had recently come from living at home, an environment in which many things would happen just by wishing for them. His primary model in life so far had been his father, a man who got what he wanted by talking. The only thing that mattered now was whether or not the procedure had been done correctly.
Shawn tried the glassware set-up procedure four separate times with shaking hands. The first time he broke one of the pieces of glassware. The second time he got it all assembled only to find that he had left out a necessary chemical. The third and fourth times he finished, but the ultra-violet scanner showed that it was contaminated and wouldn’t have worked for its intended use. He wanted very much to cry.
“Are you doing anything after lunch?” the teacher asked, pulling a stool up beside him.
“Um... no, I’m free until four.”
“Would you like to try it again? I’ll watch and see where you’re going wrong. Sometimes a little food in the belly and some pondering time can do wonders for an experiment.”
“Thank you. I’d... like to try it again.” Either that or throw it against the wall.
While thoughtfully chewing a bite of a tasty enchilada, Shawn realized what had happened. He could see it in his mind, almost as if he was watching a video recording of himself assembling the glassware. As soon as he had taken the condensing tube out of the sterilizer, he had held it securely on one end to insert the ionizer in the other end. The securing hand had allowed a finger to enter the tube and touch the inside. That finger, he now realized, had introduced moisture, oils, and bacteria. No wonder the scanner had declared the assembly contaminated!
Shawn laughed out loud, and several of the members around him looked with curious eyes. He didn’t care — he felt an immense relief, as if a great weight had just been lifted from his shoulders. Then he gave those nearby a brief explanation of the predicament he had been in, and how he had found enlightenment in an enchilada.
Back in the lab after lunch, his hands were shaking much less, and he remembered to not let his finger go inside the sterile condensing tube. The first assembly was still contaminated, and the teacher pointed out why. The second one was perfect. Shawn breathed a loud sigh of relief.
That evening during his first work shift in the Physics Lab, Shawn was given a thorough orientation by the other technician, a lady who was working on her doctoral degree in Physics and Astronomy. He was happy to discover that he need do nothing for several weeks but watch and learn, and that he wouldn’t be alone in the lab until he felt ready and had passed several exams.
He was able to relax and re-find the joy he had felt earlier that day in the beauty, simplicity, and inter-relatedness of everything he saw and learned.
At eight o’clock that same morning, Liberty stepped into the Children’s Program room that was dedicated to birth through five years of age. Her stomach was tied in knots.
During her fifteen years of life, Liberty Buchanan had learned a fantastic number of things on a wide variety of topics, including a number that were either precocious or socially unacceptable. But she had carefully avoided learning anything about babies and young children.
“Good morning! You must be Liberty?” a fairly young lady said, working at a diaper changing table on one side of the room.
Even though the room was well enough ventilated that no odor was apparent, Liberty reached up to pinch her nose closed, stopping herself just in time and lowering her hand. “Yeah, I’m Liberty.”
“Liberty, come meet Ben!”
She reluctantly approached the changing table.
“Oh, by the way, I’m Sister Lynette. Ben’s mom is in a conference right now. She’ll be in at ten and noon to nurse him.”
“I want you to know, I’m pretty new at all this baby stuff.”
“That’s okay, isn’t it Ben? That’s why I’m here. If you were an old pro, you’d get this shift alone!”
Just then a man arrived with a little boy about three. The arrival of the little boy caused a girl of about four to emerge from the playhouse in one part of the room. The little girl had been so quiet until then that Liberty hadn’t noticed her.
“Hello there!” Sister Lynette said to the man. “Will this young lad be joining us for awhile?”
“Um... what do you charge?” the man said.
“It’s on a donation basis. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”
“Well... um... this is Sammy. Do you serve snacks?”
“Snacks every hour, or right away if he’s hungry. I can even make him up a breakfast...”
“Oh, no, he’s eaten breakfast. It’s just that he can’t eat citrus fruits, or he’ll get a rash.”
Sister Lynette made a note on a clip board. “No citrus fruits. Any other items he should or shouldn’t eat?”
“No, just be careful, because he does love oranges.”
“Oh, I understand. So do I. But you know what, Sammy? I’ve got some raspberry-apple juice that I bet you’ll just love! How long will he be with us?”
“Well, I have a meeting, and then there’s a planetarium show I’d love to take in, and then a business lunch. Is one o’clock too late?”
“Not at all! We’re open until eight in the evening, later with advanced notice. But I’ll put you down for one o’clock. Sammy will probably be wondering where you are by then. Please take a moment to read and sign this form.”
The man sat at a nearby table and read the form, which gave Lyceum the temporary authority to feed and care for Sammy, administer emergency medical care, and otherwise keep him safe and sound. Liberty had been watching the entire transaction, still feeling very stiff and uncomfortable.
“Liberty, why don’t you go play with Becky while I get Sammy some juice?”
Liberty swallowed. “Um... I don’t think I’ve ever played with someone that age before...”
“That’s okay — she’ll teach you how. Come on over here, Sammy. We call
this part of the room our restaurant, because this is where we do all our eating and drinking...”
She’ll teach me how? The idea of learning anything from a three-year-old was new — and uncomfortable — to Liberty. But she didn’t want to seem uncooperative, so she ambled toward the playhouse where Becky was still peeking out and watching everything that was happening in the room.
“Hi,” Liberty said as she stood there wondering what to do.
Becky looked up at the tall fifteen-year-old. “You a monster?”
Actually, that was a pretty fair description of how Liberty felt at that moment. “Well... um... I can whinny like a horse!”
Becky started giggling. “Do!”
Liberty did a good, but not too loud, imitation of a horse whinny.
Becky giggled some more. “Now do monster!”
Liberty needed to get past the monster image. She had no intention of snarling and slavering and picking up doll houses and pretending to eat them.
Finally she realized her height was probably what was casting her in the monster role. She stooped down and put her hands on the floor in front of her.
“Nope. I’m a bunny rabbit!”
Becky continued the lessons, and in less than an hour, Liberty had learned how to play again. They both imitated many animals they knew, and some they didn’t know. Becky had never heard of an orangutan, but was willing to try it. Liberty had never heard of a snork, but did, in Becky’s opinion, a halfway descent job. Eventually Sammy joined them, and their repertoire increased with his demonstrations of sblobs, grunchies, and astro-tigers.
Sister Lynette looked on and smiled.
More children arrived, both babies that Sister Lynette seemed willing to care for, and older ones who quickly joined Liberty’s rapidly diversifying zoo.
At nine o’clock Liberty learned the routine of serving little snacks in the
‘restaurant,’ and at ten, she discovered she was far more embarrassed than Ben’s mother during the baby boy’s nursing session.
The new arrivals taught Liberty even more about playing than Becky alone had done. Some of them were regulars who knew exactly where the toys were and what could be done with them, and by eleven o’clock Liberty was getting a
pretty good handle on the resources that were available to her.
Between 11:30 and noon several of the children, included Becky, left with their parents. Liberty experienced some sadness, especially over Becky, the one who had taught her to play by calling her a monster. But the remaining children quickly diverted her from her thoughts.
Before Liberty realized, it was ten minutes after twelve and another member had arrived to take over. Sister Lynette motioned for Liberty to join them, and she familiarized the other with the peculiarities of the currently enrolled children, such as Sammy’s citrus allergy. Liberty listened to the process, then waved good-bye to the children and walked with Lynette toward the Dining Hall.
“Well, how did you like your first shift in the Children’s Program?”
“I was scared to death at first!”
“I could tell. But you did very well. I’ll let you just work with the older ones for a few weeks, and I’ll take care of the babies.”
“Thanks!”
“Then we’ll switch.”
Liberty was silent for a long moment, but eventually was able to crack a slight smile.
When Liberty arrived at her first Helicopter Maintenance class, she found the same people who were in her piloting class, plus two others who were improving their mechanics skills but were not interested in becoming pilots.
The class met in the large hanger behind the landing ports, which was about twenty feet high and had a wide walkway around three sides at about the twelve foot level. Only one helicopter was currently in the hanger, and it had been pulled very close to one side of the overhead walkway.
As soon as Sister Erica entered, she began handing out responsibilities.
“Fred, we’ll need a set of torque wrenches. Helen, you can go ahead and disconnect the bird’s electrical system. Larry, we’ll need the de-polarizer.
Liberty, you’ll find an empty parts box in the blue cabinet down there. Tim, you’re on the hoist.”
The teacher narrated as she worked, sitting on top of the huge helicopter while the class handed her tools from the nearby walkway. Liberty sat on the
edge with the multi-compartment box on her lap, receiving handfuls of parts and placing each different type into a different slot. Helen soon announced that the aircraft’s electrical system was completely down, even as Tim maneuvered the overhead hoist so that its hook was directly over the place where Sister Erica was working.
The access hatch on top of the helicopter now open, Larry stepped onto the bird and attached the small electronic device he was holding to the much larger generator they were in the process of removing. He described each thing he did to the others.
Then Fred stepped onto the bird and Erica guided him through the attachment of the removal harness and the disconnection of the torque converter. She double-checked everything and then Tim, working from a hand-held remote control box, carefully operated the hoist, and the huge generator slowly rose out of its compartment.
“This baby puts out almost a thousand watts,” Erica said as Tim guided his cargo free of the long rotor and slowly down to the hanger floor. “A new one costs seventeen thousand dollars...”
Several people whistled in disbelief.
“The rebuild kit alone is two thousand dollars, and that doesn’t do anything for the windings, which are burned out.” The generator was now almost on the floor, and the two mechanics were receiving it on a padded dolly. “We did buy the rebuild kit, but we’re going to rewind it ourselves, and when we’re done, it’s going to be far better than new.”
This wasn’t what Liberty had envisioned. What happened to the good old days of checking the oil and putting air in the tires? She carefully carried the parts box down to the floor of the hanger behind the rest of the class.
By the end of the class period, they had completely disassembled the generator and had it laid out in an orderly manner on a large work table. The armature sat alone, and its burned-out coil could be clearly seen... and smelled.
“Okay, we have some cleaning to do all around, new gaskets and insulators here and here, new lead-in wire, new brushes, we’ll turn and gap the commutator, and we’ll even have the Physics Lab check the magnets for flux weakness. But our main problem is right here,” she said, pointing to the
armature. “Only one coil is burned out, it looks like, but we’re going to rewind all three. We’ll get more practice that way, and we’ll have a superior product in the end. Everything we’ll need is on order and will be in by next week, even if I have to drive to Seattle and get it myself. There’s a handout on the end of the table about rewinding permag generators. Read it at least twice by next class — everyone will be doing some of the rewinding. See you all then.”
Liberty looked over the handout as she wandered back toward the Main Lobby. She wasn’t sure she was going to enjoy her Helicopter Maintenance class. Then she saw in her mind the credentials pages of her Lyceum I.D.
book, and imagined another space filled in, right under her Helicopter Pilot’s License — it said Certified Helicopter Mechanic. A smile appeared on her face and her step quickened. She wanted to read the generator rewinding handout once even before her swimming class started.
August 10th
Dear Coaches Jim and Tina,
I just wanted to tell you that I was accepted at Lyceum and I’ve started training again. My new coach says that my earlier training was excellent, and I wanted you to know. Thank you for all the help you gave me, and for making my gold medal possible. I understand now why I couldn’t do elite skills there. If I win more medals, I’ll tell people that I started my training in your gym. Please tell all the team members hello for me.
Love,
Ashley Riddle