When four-year-old Marty Jelwen arrived at Lyceum for the first time, his mother, being a good society lady to whom proper conduct was very important, thought they should check in at the office before exploring the campus. Marty, however, was there to look, and feel, and listen, and touch, and he found plenty of that to do before they got anywhere near the Main Lobby.
She was frustrated, but had long since gotten used to it. Her son had taught her infinite patience, starting back at age two when he had been diagnosed as autistic. The family had dutifully enrolled him in program after program throughout the Los Angeles area, all of which had eventually told them that they didn’t know what he was, but he wasn’t the kind of autistic they knew how to treat.
It wasn’t until he was three that an open-minded doctor started to suspect that Marty was processing information very rapidly, and not just in the way that all children do, but in a completely cognitive manner. The doctor had done some simple experiments, but Marty always seemed to be one step ahead of him and routinely sabotaged the doctor’s efforts. That, of course, only made the doctor more curious and more determined to understand what made Marty tick.
But he soon realized that experiments were unnecessary. One day he was trying to set up a cognitive test he had purchased in a kit form, was having some trouble, and so Marty picked up the instructions and began to read to
him. The test was quickly abandoned.
They soon located a psychologist who could administer I.Q. tests to very young children, and Marty aced the test, giving him an age-adjusted score of five hundred. The psychologist explained that the score was not really meaningful, since no norms existed for that level of intellectual functioning in a child of Marty’s age. It was, however, perfectly clear to the proud parents that they had been entrusted with something very special... and they were also beginning to see why Marty had never flourished in the many programs they had tried.
Marty might have entered some private school for the highly gifted, and Lyceum would have played no part in his life, except that he continued to act in an autistic manner and was increasingly unhappy with nearly everything and everyone he encountered as he approached the ripe old age of four. The only thing he liked to do was study the diagrams in increasingly difficult science books. His parents, having plenty of resources, began to search for a place where Marty would be happy, even if it meant that he would not be with them all the time.
When their son was four and a half, they had discovered Lyceum, received all its literature, and Marty had done little for three weeks but read the brochures and booklets over and over again. The decision seemed to be out of their hands. They arranged for a visit.
The member on duty that day in the Welcome Center observed the same thing that Marty’s parents already knew. Marty looked, read, touched, smelled, and even tasted everything, to the exclusion of normal social rituals.
That was, obviously, how he had been labeled as autistic. But he also went one step further and formed astute judgments about things. He seemed to be able to sense the underlying quality or worth in everything. Those judgments made him happy, or more often, unhappy. Autistic and manic-depressive, some social workers had said.
He was very happy for many minutes as he absorbed the displays and maps and pictures in the Welcome Center, as many of them were right at his eye level. But then he happened to find two small wood screws that were of an inferior material and were beginning to corrode. Immediately he became
unhappy, and although his expressions could not be called a temper tantrum, his moaning, sobbing, and contortions were immediately obvious to everyone in and near the Welcome Center. Sister Judy came over and sat on the floor with him to try and understand his concern.
Seeing her openness, he shared his discovery willingly. She pulled her pager off her belt and contacted a friend in the Maintenance and Production Pavilion, who promised to come over with some stainless steel replacements as soon as he finished with his current task. Marty wanted to wait for him.
His mother rolled her eyes, but knew well her son’s stubbornness.
Fifteen minutes later Brother Phil arrived with a collection of screws and a small tool box. He sat down on the floor with Marty, and they talked about the environmental stability of various alloys for ten minutes while Phil replaced the screws. Marty was happy again, and his mother was amazed.
She could not think of any way in which the situation could have been rehearsed, and yet no one had laughed at or brushed off her son. Brother Phil shook hands with both Marty and his mother and went back to work.
Before Marty had completely explored one theme garden, he had learned the difference between Lyceum members and visitors, even though the members often were not wearing identification badges. He looked at, read, and touched everything, but he also started conversations with the seven or eight members he encountered during the next three hours as he worked his way through all the theme gardens. His mother just watched. Marty stayed happy.
His next challenge came when he was talking to Brother Henry, who was out pulling some weeds in his garden. The four-year-old had shared with Brother Henry that he was there because he might want to live at Lyceum. He had also mentioned that they had arrived before noon and had been in the gardens ever since.
“You know, Marty, people only get to live at Lyceum who are smart enough to be kind to others. It’s almost four o’clock, and I don’t think your mother has had a chance to eat lunch. She looks like she’s eyeing my rhododendrons, wondering if they are edible or not.”
The boy’s mother was holding in a smile. Marty started laughing.
“Are you smart enough to let your mother stop by the office, meet your companion for the week, and get something to eat, knowing you can always come back out to the gardens a little later?”
Marty considered. Then he smiled. “Yes. That sounds okay. Bye.”
“Bye! I hope I see you again, Marty!”
Marty considered again. “I hope that too.”
Brother Brian was glad of his assignment to be Marty’s companion for a few days. He had explained the situation to Jenny, with whom he was spending time almost every day, and they had decided to meet for an early breakfast one day that week, and for a late evening snack on another day.
Jenny was even planning a surprise for Brian. After working the bugs out of the process during Ashley’s visits, Jenny was becoming fairly confident in her ability to turn out a small batch of cookies in her little kitchen. The next batch would be for Brian.
Marty’s contact person, Brother Paul, was also on hand that first day when Marty and his mother finally made it into the Main Lobby. The four of them sat around talking for a few minutes, and then made their way to the Garden Dining Room, which was just opening. Marty watched the miniatures through the glass for most of the meal. Brian sat beside him, telling him about the things he had made that were in the scene. Marty looked the sandy-haired twelve-year-old in the eyes and smiled.
“You get to do real things here?”
“Yes. You get to do whatever you are smart enough to do.”
“You get to do science?”
“Yes. I’ll show you the laboratories tomorrow.”
“Tonight?”
“Tonight they’re being used for something else. We have to take turns at using things.”
Marty considered. “Okay.”
For the next five days, Marty and Brian explored and talked about the different things there were to do at Lyceum, sometimes with his mother along, sometimes just the two of them. It was a slow process, as Marty insisted on
reading or listening to everything, and touching whatever he could reach.
Marty loved the science labs and classrooms, but he liked the kitchen and pantry almost as much. In both he liked to talk to the members he encountered, asking them questions that were always relevant and probing, sometimes testing.
He read the instructions on the computer screen of the radio telescope in the Astronomy Lab, and he read the instructions on the washing machine in Brian’s residence hall. He smelled the flowers in the greenhouse, and he smelled the llama droppings in the Small Animal Barn. Whatever he did, Brian was right there, on the ground with him or in a tree with him, and they would openly discuss what Marty had found.
The only time Marty displayed complete innocence and ignorance was when they silently wandered through the Hall of Shrines. He reached his hand toward the statues and altars, paintings and flickering candles, but he did not touch them. His mother was surprised, but also noticed that afterwards he was kinder and less testing toward others for awhile. Perhaps, she thought, it was good for him to know that there was a place that was completely beyond his understanding.
One day they spent a little time with Sarah. To Brian’s surprise, Marty fell silent and just looked at her. She also looked at him silently. About ten minutes later they both reached out and touched each other’s faces for a moment. Then Sarah rose, smiled at Brian, and left.
“She’s
strong,”
was
all Marty would say.
It was also soon discovered that Marty related well to thirteen-year-old April, and he would quietly sit in the Healing Arts Clinic with her for hours as she made herbal compounds, filtered jars of extractions, or drew every manner of plant with colored pencils, all the while speaking very few words, as was her way. Marty smelled the herbs, tasted the extractions, and drew pictures right along with Sister April.
Marty’s mother spent time with Brother Paul, learning all the different options that existed for using the facilities and services of Lyceum. They both agreed that Marty wasn’t ready to apply for membership.
“If his social growth can take place anywhere near as quickly as his learning in other areas, then he will be one powerful young man,” Brother Paul said. “My impression so far is that it eventually will catch up, given understanding guidance. His learning systems seem to be wide open, and are not limited to one or two senses as they are for most of us. But he has a lot of testing of the world to do, testing that is usually done with playmates.”
“I realize that,” Marty’s mother said. “It’s just that he can’t tolerate normal playmate situations, and I’m afraid that forcing him to do so, which is of course my option of last resort, will simply cause him to shut down his special abilities.”
“Yes, I agree. Most gifted children have to dumb-down to fit in. Marty would have to come a long way down. And he does seem to be thriving here, even socially. Brian’s I.Q. is about two hundred, and he has the humility it takes to accept Marty on his own terms. We have other youth who would probably work almost as well with Marty. We also have higher I.Q. kids than Brian, but they don’t yet have the necessary patience.”
“I’ve heard that you people are very flexible. If you’ll put together a program for Marty, just some general supervision and companionship, and plenty of access to the things he wants to do, we’ll pay for it. We have a very gifted son and we want to do everything possible to let him stay that way.”
So it was that Marty Jelwen came to live, about three weeks out of every month, at Lyceum. Of those three weeks, his mother spent several days there at the beginning and end of the time, and then flew with him to and from Los Angeles. His father was able to fly up about one weekend a month, and Marty was proud to show him all the things he could do, and the places he liked, and the people he knew.
Brian was assigned to spend some time with Marty, as well as several other of Lyceum’s young members, including Sarah, April, Joan, and Shawn, and several older members including Brother Phil and Brother Henry. Brother Paul met with all of them once a week to compare notes and make further plans for Marty’s guidance.
To the extent that such a thing could be known, the most intelligent human being to ever walk the planet had been entrusted to Lyceum. Brother
Paul asked for, and received, plenty of help walking the fine line between taking that responsibility too lightly, resulting in Marty not being challenged to grow in all the ways he needed to, and taking it too seriously, resulting in Marty feeling like a specimen in a laboratory.
Chapter 17: A Wild Goose Chase in the Dark The power went off at exactly noon on that first Monday in November, as scheduled.
There were few visitors on campus, as Lyceum had placed notices in all the regional newspapers announcing the black-out, and more signs reinforced the fact at the front entrance and in the Welcome Center. A handful of Lodge, Campground, and Hermitage guests were still expected that week, but they were all coming for quiet and solitude, and so had elected to keep to their original plans. A small conference was even scheduled, but it was a group of lay ministers from a sacramental church. They were very used to candlelight, and had considerable prayer and meditation time scheduled. All of Lyceum’s guests that week received a fifty percent discount as compensation for the general inconvenience of the black-out.
The lunch dishes were washed by hand, and all over the campus similar adjustments were made in every routine from checking out library books to sweeping floors. Some things just weren’t going to happen at all until the power resumed on Friday. Brother Carl gave the radio telescope’s control console a loving pat and pulled a dust cover over it. He had needed a vacation from his research anyway. In the audio production area, one small computer was placed on the ten kilowatt beta system. Jenny’s work on Voice Five continued uninterrupted.
At two o’clock, as scheduled, the power came back on. One old computer refused to power-up, and several devices were discovered whose back-up
batteries had failed and so were ignorant of the date, time, and their configuration settings. Everyone made notes, fixed what they could, and disconnected what they couldn’t.
At three o’clock the power went back down, and was scheduled to stay down for the rest of the day. Flashlights, lanterns, and candles were readied against the coming of darkness.
At nine o’clock the next morning, a truck arrived bearing four huge high-voltage capacitors. They were connected to the Grid to begin charging, and technicians set up the remote relays that would connect them, two hours later, to Lyceum’s alpha power system.
At ten o’clock several cars and trucks from the county fire department arrived, and the evacuation of all of Lyceum’s buildings began. A van pulled in from the company who had supplied Lyceum with the high-voltage protection modules, and monitoring devices were attached to the power trunks at several points. The same van brought replacement modules, being supplied at no cost in exchange for the privilege of monitoring the test.
All computers and other equipment were still connected to the power system, but their data had been carefully archived. Liberty and Ashley’s History class discussed interesting events in the discovery, taming, and utilization of electricity while watching the process from the Main Plaza.
Shawn had helped Sarah and Jason to get all the animals out of the barns, and they now watched from the pasture.
At exactly eleven o’clock, ten million volts were shunted from the massive capacitors directly into Lyceum’s main wiring, simulating a direct lightning strike on a nearby section of the Grid. A loud BANG was heard by everyone, and smoke rose from several metal boxes in the electrical cage behind the Pantry and Laundry building. The remote relay that had accomplished the task was a single-use device — it was the first item examined, and had been transformed into melted, twisted trash.
Lyceum and fire department inspectors dashed into all the buildings wearing respirators and carrying fire extinguishers. As soon as they assured themselves that no fire or smoke was present, one person in each building recorded the numbers that the monitoring devices displayed and hurried back
to the command post in the Picnic Area. At least one person stayed inside each building to watch for problems.
The company officials were ecstatic. No more than thirteen thousand volts had gotten past the first ring of high-voltage protection devices, and the second ring had stopped all but a three percent above normal voltage spike.
No damage to wiring or devices was discovered in any of the building. By 11:30, the fire department declared all buildings safe to enter, and prepared to leave, except for one inspector who would keep an eye on things for a few more hours.
On Wednesday at eleven the power came back on, but quickly dropped to ninety percent voltage, as planned. The drill schedule called for every manner of brown-out all day long, and computers and other devices began shutting themselves down and booting themselves back up as the voltage level changed and changed again. No one knew which machines would survive the grueling test.
Shawn had just learned of his new assignment to be one of those working with the four-year-old prodigy who was going to live at Lyceum part of the time. He was looking forward to the challenge, but at the same time was a little bothered by it. As he served himself a plate of lasagna and salad at 11:30
and sat down with the ten or twelve other members who ate early on Wednesdays because they too had responsibilities at noon, he pondered the nagging feeling inside himself that something was unnatural about being that smart at four years of age.
Then he stopped his train of thought in mid-swallow, nearly choking on the bite, and realized that he was starting to do to little Marty the same thing his father had once done to Sarah. He immediately felt ashamed. He had gotten to know Sarah, and there was nothing unnatural about her, just differences. And that very different nine-year-old girl was rapidly becoming the best friend Shawn had ever had. He went on thoughtfully eating.
The lights changed from a moderate yellow to a faint orange glow as he listened to some members talking about how their upcoming work shifts would be effected by the brown-outs in progress. Only one member approached grumbling, and he was counseled by an older and wiser one to
always find the beauty in everything. Shawn realized that the advice could have been meant for him, and silently vowed to himself to go into his new assignment with a completely open mind.
As noon approached, Shawn headed for his Children’s Program shift. Few, if any, children were expected, and he was going to be running one program for all ages while the other rooms were being cleaned and repainted. He arrived and found that he had a five-year-old girl and an eleven-year-old boy in his charge.
The lack of reliable power ruled out going to the Planetarium or showing movies. Shawn was challenged to keep craft projects and science experiments going that would hold the attention of both, interspersed by walks to interesting places in the buildings and nearby gardens. In the early afternoon, the girl was picked-up, and later the boy, to be replaced by a ten-year-old girl and a three-year-old boy.
But by two o’clock, Shawn was becoming puzzled. Adults had been poking their heads into the classroom far more often than kids had been left-off or picked-up. He knew that he was running the entire program that day, so it couldn’t be that they had just looked into the wrong room. And as he pondered the situation, he realized that the ones peeking in without declaring their business always seemed to be men, and were always dressed in business suits. He began to wonder if someone was trying to snatch one of his kids while the parents were busy elsewhere.
When the evening shift person arrived at four, he shared his concern, and she promised to keep a close watch on the one remaining child, and any others that should arrive. As Shawn headed for his Greek class, the sun was getting low, and the hallways were gloomy with the power currently at only five percent of normal voltage. He had the feeling that someone was coming behind him, going in the same direction. He looked back, thinking he would see one of his classmates, but whoever it was immediately turned into an open door and Shawn didn’t get a good look at him. But he was sure the other was wearing a suit.
Three times during Greek class, which was conducted by lantern light, men looked into the room, and then dashed off before anyone could discover
their purpose. Shawn saw one of them, but the other two were spotted by others. A pattern was emerging. Shawn was starting to get the creeps.
On his way to dinner, Shawn passed at least four, maybe five, men in business suits leaning against walls at various points reading newspapers. He didn’t at all like the fact that each seemed to get his fill of the news and started ambling toward the Dining Hall just as Shawn passed.
At dinner the gloom seemed to lift and everyone was in good spirits, laughing and talking about the flaky power systems and how life would be simpler without them anyway. Ashley had funny stories to tell about doing gymnastics that last hour to candles and flashlights, but with the Chunichi Cup less than a month away, they couldn’t afford to miss any training time.
Liberty didn’t like missing her flight simulator time, and planned to make it up the following week, in the middle of the night if necessary. Shawn soon forgot all about the men in suits.
But as dinner ended and people filtered away, Shawn remembered that he had mopping duty on Wednesdays, and that would make him one of the last ones there. Ashley ran off to French, and Liberty headed out to the Small Animal Barn to help Jason with the animals. Shawn looked around. There seemed to be an awful lot of men in suits in the restaurant section sipping coffee and reading newspapers.
The table clearers finished, and the floor sweeper was hard at work.
Shawn got his mop bucket and got ready to do his chore. The men were still nursing their coffee or eating slices of pie. He never caught any of them looking directly at him — but he noticed that they were all seated so they could easily do so.
The table washers completed their task and the setters laid down fresh silverware and napkins. The sweeper had finished. Shawn started mopping.
He was almost done with the members’ area when he got his first real shock.
A large man in a suit was standing in the corridor to the Residential Lobby, peering at the schedules on the wall. Shawn was almost sure he had seen him before. In Greenville, South Carolina. In the library. Chasing him.
Shawn quickly finished, doing a sloppy job, which was not at all his way, and ducked into the kitchen, his heart pounding. After a minute of trying to collect his wits, he carefully looked out into the restaurant section. Several of
the men were standing and talking. One looked right at him. Shawn pulled his head back into the kitchen.
Next he looked through the break in the wall that led directly to the Garden Dining Room. Only two tables were occupied, and the nearest one contained a single man in a suit eating his dinner. He looked up and met Shawn’s eyes. Shawn again ducked out of sight.
All the emotions from his last days in Greenville were flooding back, all the fear, all the frustration, all the feelings of being chased and trapped. But Shawn was still thinking, and before he did anything about those feelings, he wanted to be absolutely sure he wasn’t imagining it all. The man he thought he recognized had facial features that were fairly common, so maybe they were all just men attending some little conference.
Shawn went to the back of the kitchen and looked down the corridor that led to the pantry. A man was there, leaning against a wall and using a flashlight to read what might have been an order form. He went to the door that led out to the recycling bins. In the light of a lantern that had been set nearby, he could see another one, slowly placing cans from a bag into one of the bins, but sometimes just pretending to, and actually putting them back in his bag. Both wore suits.
Shawn was getting angry. This was his home, and they had no right to invade it. He knew he could tell the other members who were working in the kitchen what was happening, and they would protect him until a security team could be called.
But it made him mad that he would even have to do that, bother his fellow members with a problem that he had brought from his home town. His father had already hurt people here once. He had no right to do it again. Shawn wanted very much to be able to handle his father, and whoever was doing his father’s bidding, all by himself. He would not tuck his tail between his legs and ask other people to protect him.
Just then Liberty came in. “Hi Shawn. Did you mop that floor? Looks like you were in a hurry. Jason finally got all the animals fed. I wanted to see if there was any of that almond cheesecake left that I made this morning. Oh, yes! Almost a whole one. Want a piece?”
“Lib... um... I need to talk to someone.”
At that moment Liberty realized that not all was well with Shawn. She wondered if it had something to do with the poorly-mopped floor. She closed the pastry case and hopped up beside him where he sat on a preparation table.
“What’s up?”
“This isn’t something I want help with. It’s something I have to do myself.
I just need some ideas. Understand?”
“Sure.”
He spoke softly so no one else in the kitchen could hear him. “There are a bunch of men here, at least ten, and I think they were hired by my father to...
kidnap me.”
“You mean all the goons in suits? I was wondering about them. There’s only one conference going on, and they’re not in it. Do they have guns?”
“No! They’re church people!”
“Some
church!”
“They’re even in the corridor to the Halls and out by the bins.”
“Those
are
not public areas!”
“I know. They’re pretty good at looking like they have business wherever they are.”
“So... what do you want to do? Fred’s in the security office. Want me to get him? He’ll come armed if necessary...”
“No! I want to take care of it myself. I’m just not sure how.”
“Well, if you just hide in here all night, eventually there’ll be more of them around than members, and they might try to rush in, grab you, and stuff you in a car before anyone knows what’s happening. They won’t care if someone sees them or yells at them, since they’re not planning on sticking around.”
“Yeah... but I’m surrounded!”
As they were talking, Sarah wandered in. “Hi, guys. A man out there is asking about you, Shawn.”
“What did you tell him?” Shawn asked anxiously.
“That I didn’t know any Shawns. What’s going on?”
“Go on, tell her,” Liberty said. “I’m your friend, and she’s your friend. We won’t do anything unless it’s okay with you.”
So Shawn related to Sarah what he had told Liberty. But Sarah saw it with different eyes, remembering that night, months before, when Shawn had
called from Greenville. She remembered the fear and despair in his voice.
She felt it again now. She looked into his eyes when he finished speaking, and his eyes pleaded with her to help, but in a way that would let him do the work and take the risks.
“You’re not trapped!” she said. “There are tunnels under Lyceum. We can use them to go anywhere. If you want to, we can lead your men on a wild goose chase they’ll never forget!”
“Really? That would be just what they deserve. Every time they think they have me cornered, I’ll be behind them!”
“And I have another idea to go with it for your consideration,” Liberty said.
Shawn listened to Liberty’s idea and liked it. He would be the one taking most of the risks. His friends would just be acting as messengers. And it would keep the men moving to and from different places so they would have no chance of a coordinated attack. Shawn smiled and okayed the plan.
Sarah led them to the back of the kitchen. As everyone knew, there were three store rooms there. Shawn had been in two of them, and knew the first contained paper supplies, and the other contained seldom used equipment and utensils. Sarah stepped to the third one. “All doors that end in the digit nine lead to the utility tunnels, and they’re all keyed to the members’ general access code. You guys know it, right?”
“Of course!” Liberty said. “How could we go anywhere without it?”
Shawn stepped to the door and tapped it in, then pulled the door open. A metal stair led downward. Lights were glowing dimly over the stair and in the tunnel below.
“Let’s go before any of the goons peek in here!” Liberty said.
Shawn and Sarah went down, and Liberty pulled the door closed behind them. They gathered at the bottom of the metal steps.
The concrete tunnel ran from there in two directions, toward the Main Lobby and toward the Residential Lobby. Pipes and conduits ran along the ceiling and one wall. Along the other wall were simple shelves made from structural lumber and plywood, and those shelves were stacked with all kinds of supplies: canned food, boxes of candles, jugs of water, first aid kits, tools, and even sleeping bags.
“Jeez!” Liberty said. “There’s everything you could need down here!”
“We’re stocked for all kinds of emergencies. Here’s a map,” Sarah said, pointing at a plaque on one wall. They all went close to look at it.
“They
do go everywhere!” Liberty said. “Even out to the Welcome Center and the Retreat Centers way out in the woods!”
“Yep. And right at the bottom of each ladder is a shelf of important supplies,” Sarah said, looking around. “Yeah, here it is. Let’s each take a flashlight. Who knows what the lights will do.”
“I feel better already,” Shawn said. “At least I’m not trapped anymore!”
“Let’s go. We’ve got work to do!” Liberty said.
They headed off, single file, toward the Residential Lobby, passing more shelves of emergency supplies: plastic buckets filled with cereal grains, stretchers and medical kits, cases of toilet paper, boxes of mouse traps and fly paper. They stayed in the tunnels all the way to Terrabithia Hall.
As soon as they emerged from the underground labyrinth, Liberty led them to the craft room and quickly located many colors of yarn, clothes pins, and note cards. They sat down and busied themselves preparing their weapons, and Liberty took a minute to dash up to her room for one of her prized possessions.
Ten minutes later they were back in the tunnels, this time going all the way to the Main Lobby. Sarah went up alone and walked through the Dining Hall to see if anything had happened. She quickly returned — with Ashley, Tabitha, and Karen.
“I
brought
helpers!”
They took a minute to explain the situation — and the plan — to the gymnasts.
“The goons haven’t done anything weird yet,” Sarah then reported, “but they might have figured out you aren’t in the kitchen anymore. Some of them are moving around in other places. Plan A still looks good.”
“Okay. You’re the bait, Shawn, like you wanted to be,” Liberty said. “Shall we do the corridors in order?”
Shawn thought for a moment. “Might as well, starting with the Lodge. We need to scatter them as quickly as possible.”
A minute later Ashley was walking along the above-ground corridor from the Main Lobby toward the Lodge. One of the suited men was about halfway
down, pretending to read a guidebook. She stepped up to him. “A message for you, Sir.”
He glanced at her, and then read the message.
I’m
right
behind
you!
Shawn Mitchell
He quickly turned around to see Shawn standing in the lobby of the Lodge, and headed that way at a fast walk. Shawn sauntered out of sight, and by the time the man entered the lobby, Shawn was nowhere to be seen.
With Tabitha’s help, a similar scene was enacted in the corridor to the Recreation Center, and with Karen’s assistance, in the passage to the Ecumenical Temple. Sarah then worked with Shawn to send two men scrambling into the Conference Centers. Liberty stayed in the tunnels, implementing the split-second timing necessary and pointing each helper to their next task.
Plan A ended after Ashley helped lure one gentleman toward the Healing Arts Clinic, and Karen sent two running after Shawn toward the Welcome Center. They all regrouped at Liberty’s station under the Main Lobby, laughing their heads off.
“There are no more than two of them together anywhere,” Sarah said, “and probably even those have split up to search for you.”
“You guys were great!” Shawn said.
“Do we have your permission to move on to Plan B?” Liberty asked. “That is, if you’ve had enough danger for one evening and are ready to let us get our share...?”
“Why not?” Shawn said with a smile. “Just remember to use different people.”
“Right. Tabitha and Karen, Lodge. Sarah, you and Ashley are in Recreation. Regroup in three minutes.”
Everyone dashed for their assignments. Shawn would have to sit this phase out, waiting for the final results.
Karen approached one of the men searching for Shawn in the Lyceum Lodge. “Sir, could you please tell me how to get to the cafeteria?”
“Um... I’m kind of busy...”
“Please, Sir, I’m supposed to meet my mother there.”
“Okay. Just go down that corridor, then turn right. You’ll find it.”
He never saw Tabitha sneak up behind him and clip a tail made from yarn onto the back of his suit coat. It was nearly impossible for the wearer to see, as it was always behind him no matter which way he turned.
At about the same moment, Ashley was asking the same question of a man in the Recreation Center while Sarah did the dirty work. After regrouping, the process continued in other parts of Lyceum, always using helpers who had not delivered the original message in that location.
During the very last implant, disaster nearly struck. As Sarah chatted with the man searching the Clinic, pretending to not understand his directions to the Lodge, he felt something on the back of his coat. At first he groped with his hand, and that gave Tabitha the moment she needed to execute a lightning-quick forward roll behind a couch. Then he turned, but saw no one.
He shrugged and turned back to Sarah.
“Look, little girl, I have to be going. Just go down this hall and when you get to the big room, ask someone again. Good night.”
He remained unaware of his new appendage while he continued to look for Shawn throughout the Healing Arts Clinic.
Within a few minutes, every time one of the suited men entered a room, there was a general turning of heads and laughter, and none of them could figure out why. They were all soon growing tired of the fruitless search and the humiliating laughter and were heading back toward the Main Lobby with thoughts of getting away from Lyceum as quickly as possible.
As the ten hired men began to converge in the large central room, they finally saw each other and realized what had been happening. They angrily jerked the tails off their coats, throwing the colorful yarn onto the floor. Most of them announced to the leader that they were leaving. Then they all fell quiet, realizing that they were surrounded.
Around them stood Ashley, Tabitha, Karen, Liberty, and Sarah, hands on their hips. The men didn’t know it, but Shawn was watching from the Information and Assistance counter. Liberty, holding a large high-pressure
water gun in one hand, stepped forward and handed a note to the head man whom Shawn had recognized.
He glanced around nervously, realizing there were too many other people in the lobby for any safe action. He looked at the note.
Had
enough?
We could easily get many more helpers. Next will come our excellent collection of water guns, and we have been known to fill them with other things besides water. And if that doesn’t get you off the Lyceum campus in half an hour, we’ll hand the problem over to our armed security teams and the Sheriff.
Any
questions?
Sincerely,
Shawn Andrew Mitchell
The leader looked at Liberty. She smiled innocently, though her eyes expressed a resolute earnestness that almost made him shudder.
“Kids,” one man said. “Just a bunch of cocky kids.”
“And where’s all the cult stuff we were told about?” another asked.
“I don’t know,” said another. “Shawn doesn’t seem to be brainwashed or a prisoner here to me.”
One man, who had been smiling, said, “I wish my kids had this kind of self-motivation.”
“Come on. Let’s get out of this crazy place,” the leader said over his shoulder to his associates.
Liberty and Ashley opened the circle on the side closest to the main doors to the Plaza. The men filed in that direction, keeping an eye on Liberty and her water gun. Karen and Tabitha closed in behind them. They all followed the men out the door, Sarah going last and gesturing for Shawn to join them.
As the men quickly crossed the Main Plaza, well lit at that moment with the power at ninety-five percent of normal voltage, Shawn and his friends watched from the front steps. They began laughing when they saw that one of the suited men still had a colorful yarn tail attached to his coat.
Just as the ten men were disappearing through the Welcome Center’s
archway, Brother Fred stepped out of the Lobby.
“Would someone please tell me what is going on!”
The six friends gathered in the Security Office and told Brother Fred everything that had happened, beginning with a sketch by Shawn of the events in Greenville, South Carolina the previous June and July. The large black man took notes. They showed him their final warning message, as the leader had tossed it down before leaving. When they finally came to the end of their story, they sat silently and looked at the security man, most of them expecting at least a little disapproval of their vigilante actions.
Brother Fred gave each of them a long, searching look. Then he burst out laughing, and his laughter was so infectious that they all soon joined in.
“Okay... you clowns are all going to be reassigned to a security team if you don’t watch out! I want a written report from each of you by tomorrow, and if you see any of those men on campus again, I want you to report it immediately. If they come back, they won’t be fooled by the same tricks.”
The friends agreed, and thanked Brother Fred for understanding their need to handle it themselves on that occasion. They all shook hands with him and headed back to the Main Lobby.
“Hey, everybody,” Shawn said, turning around to look at his friends as they walked. “It’s 9:30. Can I buy you all a snack?”
“You sure you want to go back to the Dining Hall? It might be full of men in suits!” Liberty teased.
Shawn punched her lightly in the shoulder. “Do you want a snack or don’t you?”
“Sure, as long as it’s my almond cheesecake! There should be enough left for everyone.”
“Yum! I want one!” Sarah said.
“We’ll share a piece!” Karen said, and the other two gymnasts nodded their agreement.
Arms around each other, the six headed down the corridor. Just then the lights dimmed down to a faint glow.
On Thursday, the power flashed on and off several times, as planned,
sometimes with many minutes between flashes, sometimes with only a tenth of a second between. A number of electronic devices didn’t have adequate protection and died. They were tagged for repair or replacement.
All six friends hand-wrote their reports to Brother Fred. Shawn didn’t have to include the original events in Greenville because they had been well documented when he had first arrived at Lyceum. He thanked all his friends and promised to type all their reports into the computer as soon as the power was usable.
Friday morning no more tests of the alpha power system were scheduled.
Flashlights were recharged, lanterns were cleaned and refilled with fuel, and candle stubs were tossed into a big pot to be melted down for craft projects.
The electricity resumed at full voltage and current capacity at noon, and everyone set to work getting all their computers and other equipment up and running before people started arriving for the weekend.
Most of the small number of people who had visited Lyceum that week had gone away without feeling any lack or inconvenience due to the black-out.
Only one particular group of men in business suits hadn’t liked the service, and they were never seen at Lyceum again.