traffic,” the senator pointed out. “No sense wasting the taxpayers’ time and money.”
Jason started nodding in agreement instead of simply saying he was sort of joking when he’d stated the obvious. But then he caught a glint in the senator’s blue eyes.
“Also, no traffic means no voters,” the senator added with a smile. “Which means a waste of my time and money.”
That was when Jason wondered if he would regret this whole fiasco. It had been his idea, after all. A surefire way for the senator to promote his position at the upcoming energy summit and at the same time tap into all the positive press EchoEnergy was getting. And why shouldn’t he? The senator had helped EchoEnergy from the very beginning, lobbying to get the federal grants to build the facility and later garnering the tax incentives that allowed the plant to hire and operate. In the last several years EchoEnergy earned an incredible reputation with environmental groups and was now the darling of the news media, like some shining beacon in the energy war. Why shouldn’t the senator capitalize on some of that? After all he had done he deserved some accolades and recognition as being a pioneer in this new breakthrough technology.
But for some reason Senator Allen wasn’t crazy about Jason’s idea, once even suggesting that he didn’t want to risk upstaging the media focus for the energy summit. Jason’s whole point was not to upstage the summit as much as it was to highlight the senator’s role. Once the summit began so would the competition for media attention. Usually the senator took advantage of opportunities like this. Jason didn’t get it.
They passed through the industrial park’s electronic gate, stopping only briefly at the security hut where Jason was surprised to see the uniformed guard, alert and at attention, reminding Jason more of a marine barracks than a commercial processing plant. And the limousine didn’t get an easy pass. Credentials were checked, the young man taking his time to examine details and match photos to faces.
It wasn’t until they drove to the end of the road—a much wider, smoother path than the state highway they had left—that the plant could be seen through the thick forest that lined three sides of what Jason knew to be a hundred-acre property. It looked like a strange small town. On one side, what Jason figured must be the office complex, were five to six modern steel-and-glass buildings—two and three stories high—surrounded by a landscaped park. A slice of the river behind the park disappeared into the forest.
On the other side of the industrial park were about a dozen giant silver tanks like high-rises glinting in the sun. Steel-grated catwalks instead of glass skywalks connected them. A maze of pipes, some a foot in diameter, and huge electric coils snaked along the tanks and overhead—all a shining white as if the plant had only finished construction. All of the pipes eventually attached each of the tanks to the top of one building that took up the back side of the park, a massive corrugated steel structure with no windows and very few doors.
Jason had to admit he expected something else, something dingy and dark, considering the long line of tanker trucks—that he now realized were companions to the ones that almost ran them off the highway—were carrying either chicken guts or fuel oil. Yes, he was impressed and he looked to Senator Allen, hoping to see the same reaction only to find the senator sitting back against the soft leather car seat with…absolutely no reaction.
They approached the office complex, turning the final corner to the entrance. And that’s when Jason saw them. They were parked on sidewalks and filling the circle driveway, all jockeying for the best spot. Jason counted nine news vans. He didn’t bother to count the crowd surrounding the entry to the building. But when he glanced at the senator, he noticed the man was now sitting forward at the edge of the
Jason started nodding in agreement instead of simply saying he was sort of joking when he’d stated the obvious. But then he caught a glint in the senator’s blue eyes.
“Also, no traffic means no voters,” the senator added with a smile. “Which means a waste of my time and money.”
That was when Jason wondered if he would regret this whole fiasco. It had been his idea, after all. A surefire way for the senator to promote his position at the upcoming energy summit and at the same time tap into all the positive press EchoEnergy was getting. And why shouldn’t he? The senator had helped EchoEnergy from the very beginning, lobbying to get the federal grants to build the facility and later garnering the tax incentives that allowed the plant to hire and operate. In the last several years EchoEnergy earned an incredible reputation with environmental groups and was now the darling of the news media, like some shining beacon in the energy war. Why shouldn’t the senator capitalize on some of that? After all he had done he deserved some accolades and recognition as being a pioneer in this new breakthrough technology.
But for some reason Senator Allen wasn’t crazy about Jason’s idea, once even suggesting that he didn’t want to risk upstaging the media focus for the energy summit. Jason’s whole point was not to upstage the summit as much as it was to highlight the senator’s role. Once the summit began so would the competition for media attention. Usually the senator took advantage of opportunities like this. Jason didn’t get it.
They passed through the industrial park’s electronic gate, stopping only briefly at the security hut where Jason was surprised to see the uniformed guard, alert and at attention, reminding Jason more of a marine barracks than a commercial processing plant. And the limousine didn’t get an easy pass. Credentials were checked, the young man taking his time to examine details and match photos to faces.
It wasn’t until they drove to the end of the road—a much wider, smoother path than the state highway they had left—that the plant could be seen through the thick forest that lined three sides of what Jason knew to be a hundred-acre property. It looked like a strange small town. On one side, what Jason figured must be the office complex, were five to six modern steel-and-glass buildings—two and three stories high—surrounded by a landscaped park. A slice of the river behind the park disappeared into the forest.
On the other side of the industrial park were about a dozen giant silver tanks like high-rises glinting in the sun. Steel-grated catwalks instead of glass skywalks connected them. A maze of pipes, some a foot in diameter, and huge electric coils snaked along the tanks and overhead—all a shining white as if the plant had only finished construction. All of the pipes eventually attached each of the tanks to the top of one building that took up the back side of the park, a massive corrugated steel structure with no windows and very few doors.
Jason had to admit he expected something else, something dingy and dark, considering the long line of tanker trucks—that he now realized were companions to the ones that almost ran them off the highway—were carrying either chicken guts or fuel oil. Yes, he was impressed and he looked to Senator Allen, hoping to see the same reaction only to find the senator sitting back against the soft leather car seat with…absolutely no reaction.
They approached the office complex, turning the final corner to the entrance. And that’s when Jason saw them. They were parked on sidewalks and filling the circle driveway, all jockeying for the best spot. Jason counted nine news vans. He didn’t bother to count the crowd surrounding the entry to the building. But when he glanced at the senator, he noticed the man was now sitting forward at the edge of the
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