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  His thoughts trailing off, David whirled around and looked back at his pinboard. Burden to the local population. What if a commute was a burden to the local population? Or better yet, surely an overworked, public train network was a burden on the local population. It certainly was for him. He pulled a book from one of the nearby shelves and flipped through the well-known pages.

  “Braxton v. Collin, Braxton v. Collin, Braxton v. Collin Manufacturing … Ah, there you are,” David mumbled to the empty room. He ran his finger along the page until he came to a case summary. House Braxton had ratified an immediate tax increase on the Sixth District manufacturing companies in order to assist the train transportation system. The reason being: “It is overly burdensome on the local population to have to travel on trains packed with workers commuting from different houses to the manufacturing facilities.” David let the book fall to the floor. He had an idea, and it was brilliant!

  CONDEMNATION

  The next morning David crashed through the double doors right into Blythe’s office, not even noticing the window-floor this time. His abrupt entrance startled Paula so much, she squeaked and jumped up from the chair where she was taking notes for Blythe, knocking her cup of tea over in the process.

  “I figured … it out,” David said between gasps. “I know how to show … an undue burden … on the local population.”

  “Have you really?” Blythe said from his desk chair, his face morphing through an entire host of expressions: first shock, then curiosity, and then bemusement.

  “Transportation!” David said, nodding at Blythe like he had just solved the Alönian power crisis.

  “Mm-hm. That’s, um, very interesting, David, but why don’t you start from the beginning.” Blythe smiled at Paula and handed her his kerchief to clean up the tea she’d spilled on her dress.

  David stepped forward and dumped his armload of documents onto Blythe’s desk, oblivious to his rude interruption and haggard appearance.

  “How many airship transportation facilities are there in all of House Braxton?” David asked.

  Blythe opened his mouth to answer, but David cut him off: “One! One facility to service all the public air traffic in the entire house.” He spread a House Braxton map across the desk. “It’s located on the far end of the Seventh District, predominantly servicing vacationers to the Seventh’s mountain resorts. All commuters to the other districts have to ride steam trains to and from that transportation facility. The Sixth District has the highest population by far, but a good portion of workers still commutes from out of district via the transportation facility. They haven’t bothered building their own airship transportation facility since they are relatively close to the Seventh District. Rather they built additional trains to facilitate the commuter traffic.”

  David paused and laid another map down on the table, this one showing all the train lines out of the Sixth District. “Given all of the work inside the Sixth District, these train lines are packed to capacity. Anyone wishing to travel in or out of the Sixth District waits upwards of four hours. Adding Public Pharmaceuticals would probably crush their local transportation system. According to Braxton v. Collin Manufacturing …” Now David stopped to pull out his copy of House Magistrate Opinions, then continued, “… it is ‘overly burdensome on the local population to have to travel on trains packed with workers commuting from different houses.’”

  David looked up after his hasty presentation. Paula still wiped at a large brown stain on her light-pink dress. Blythe, on the other hand, tapped his folded hands on his lips, searching David with pensive eyes.

  “How much sleep did you get last night?” Blythe asked after a moment.

  David shook his head. “I didn’t. No time.”

  “Paula, would you get David some Jorgan tea.” Blythe smiled at her. “I think he’d benefit from a cup.”

  “Sure, and I’ll get myself a second, since I’m wearing my first.” She walked off after a few more dabs with the handkerchief.

  “But don’t you see what I’m saying?” David said. “It means we have the power to move the project to our district.”

  “I see your point, but I’m not sure if I’m more impressed at your result or the fact that you are this excited after missing an entire night’s sleep.”

  Paula returned and handed a cup of tea to David with a forced smile. “I’ll let you boys work. If you need me, I’ll be in the ladies’ room washing my dress in the sink.”

  “Very good, Paula. Thanks for the tea,” David said before he took a sip.

  “Now,” Blythe said after Paula walked out the door, “I see one problem with your plan. The Third District does not have an airship transportation facility either. I have a hard time believing the Assembly will transfer Public Pharmaceuticals to our district when we have no airship facility and only one single train line in or out. I would think the Assembly would transfer the facility to the Seventh District before the Third.”

  “Quite right. But don’t forget, all we need to make the motion is proof that it’s of public interest, and that the current site is burdensome on the local populous. Keeping the facility in our district is another argument.”

  “Yes, but what is the point if we can’t keep it?”

  In reply David handed Blythe another document.

  “What’s this?” Blythe asked.

  “Those are plans for a transportation facility proposed by your predecessor. At the time, the Third didn’t have a large enough population to justify the project. Now, however, this cycle’s house grant should provide enough to start the project, and the prospect of Public Pharmaceutical’s arrival should convince a bank to loan the rest. Once the transportation facility is in progress, that is enough to thwart any other district from making the same burdensome argument against us.” David folded his arms and smiled.

  “Wait, wait,” Blythe said, shaking his head. “You’re telling me that as soon as we start work on an air transportation facility within our district, no one can claim that the traffic will be burdensome on the local population?”

  David nodded with a broad grin. “That’s the beauty of it. Anyone else seeking to thwart us will need to come up with a different reason, and for the life of me I can’t think of any.”

  Blythe stared at the plans for few more seconds until his eyes got very wide. “Ha! David, you are worth every penny of your meager salary.”

  “Thank you, sir … I think. But there’s more. You asked me yesterday if there was any way we could boost our population another 2 percent. I’ve found it. If we can convince the Assembly to interfere and move Public Pharmaceuticals to our district, and if our transportation facility is approved, I propose that we approach one of the medium-sized construction companies—Beldon, perhaps—and convince them to move their headquarters into our district in return for the contract on both projects.”

  “Hmm … Beldon Construction is too small,” Blythe said, again shaking his head. “Even if they move their entire work force to our district to complete the project, it will only move our population a percent at most. That isn’t enough.”

  “True, but think of it this way.” David took a few gulps of tea, then went on, “Beldon is located in the Sixth District. It is one of many construction companies in Speaker Walker’s district and currently struggling for work. Any of the larger companies in that district have strong ties to the speaker and would never move. Beldon needs a change-up, and if they move, that is 1 percent for us and 1 percent away from the Sixth, effectively swinging 2 percent.”

  Now Blythe laughed. “My boy … my dear boy, you’ve done it!”

  He rose and clapped David on the back with so much force that David spit out a whole gulp of tea—thankfully right back into his cup.

  Blythe pointed and said, “I have one thing I want to change, though.” He picked up a pen from the desk and crossed out a word at the bottom of the plan’s abstract. “The residential section has enough air traffic with all of the private yachts. They have no
need for a public airship facility.” Then he penned in Industrial District. “Now, David, tell me, how much do you know about condemnation?”

  “Mm, a fair bit. I have the Governmental Notice Form in my desk. In addition to that, we will need to show that we are taking the property for public use with just compensation.”

  “Quite right. There is just one problem. After we provide land to Public Pharmaceuticals, purchase land for the airship transportation facility, and begin construction on the airship transportation facility, well, we simply don’t have the funds for that. I found a piece of land yesterday that I intended to use for Public Pharmaceuticals, but I think it is better suited for an air transportation facility. A few lanes down from that lot is a manufacturing facility. Over the cycles it’s lost a lot of its former glory, laying off workers and condensing its workspace. As of now I should think they only use a quarter of the space within the facility. If we could condemn that land, it would save considerable—”

  “You’re not thinking of Linden Airsail Limited, are you?” David asked.

  “You know the place?”

  “That’s next to where I live. Their CEO, Linden, used to employ all the workers in my apartment, Linden Lodgings, and owned the apartment itself. Then he up and sold Linden Lodgings, made a killing, and laid off all the workers to save on production costs. Not long after, rent increased and the building fell into disrepair. Rumor has it that he still lives in a penthouse in the residential district.”

  “Well then, this should be easy. Come on, let’s away.”

  “Away?” David asked. “Away to where?”

  “The Third, my boy,” Blythe said as he walked out of his office toward the false wall. “We need to pay a visit to one of our constituents. Grab that Governmental Notice Form.” He pulled the lever on the office wall, and a gust of icy wind fluttered around as sunlight radiated through the doorway. “Come on now. We don’t have …”

  The rest was lost as David grabbed his satchel and hurried after Blythe, climbing into the Cloud Cutter’s white leather seat. He was not about to miss a ride in this skiff. Blythe switched on the burner, and in a matter of seconds the pontoons heated and the sleek craft rose into the air. David knew every detail of this ship, but then again, he knew every detail of every airship. The 71 two-seater boasted sixteen feet of sleek red böaga-wood paneling with a convertible cockpit at the very front of the retro bull-nose vessel. A twin-purpose burner allowed for lift and propulsion without any additional weight. That’s why it took no time at all to acquire lift at a cold start. David buckled himself in and put on the goggles Blythe proffered. Blythe squinted his eyes as he set the odometer to chime at 170 grandfathoms.

  When the skiff was clear of the private dock, Blythe opened the internal turbofan, which hummed as it drew air into the front of the ship and then rocketed it out the back. The acceleration squished David into his plush leather seat. They made a wide arc around the orbital until the large central compass on the dash pointed southwest, toward House Braxton and the Third. The sun gleamed on the orbital as the skiff carved a swath through the dense clouds below. The agile craft darted through the rest of the orbital air traffic at an almost reckless pace. In mere moments they were outside the city limits steaming toward the Third.

  David could see the Alönian mountains circling the outskirts of ten of the thirteen houses, peeking up over the cloud cover and fading into the distance, their tips sparkling in the sunlight. It looked like a bowl of rocky spires holding a soup of frothy cloud. Most of Alönia lay on an abnormally large island, its north, west, and south shores guarded by high mountain peaks. While providing excellent security from the perpetual Southern Ocean storms, these mountains also acted like an enclosure to any wayward clouds, collecting and condensing them.

  Alönia, with the exception of the coastlands, enjoyed five seasons of seventy-four days apiece, each with a varying degree of rain, making up the 370-day cycle. Taumore Season, the first of the cycle, offered mists and chills for sixty straight days—not quite freezing, but that was little help when the endless mists found their way into someone’s clothes. Taumore Season ended with the only respite from the five-season rain cycle: the Golden Days. The Golden Days lasted a fortnight, with clear skies and crisp air as the winds transitioned into Úoi Season. Every single Alönian would wait all cycle for the Golden Days—and all the holidays, garden parties, or other celebrations that accompanied this special period, as it was the only time in the cycle anyone could rely on decent weather.

  The next season of the cycle, Úoi, presented light rain and moderate temperatures. Most considered it the pleasant season when compared to the interminable humidity and muggy fog of the next season, Swollock. Alönia’s hot Swollock Season meant nothing but sweaty shirts and grimy fingers for weeks on end, and it only got worse from there. Prumuveour Season was monsoon season, with constant thunderstorms and flooding for the whole period. However, Prumuveour Season could bear a dangerous kind of beauty in the midst of the squall. Sitting at night and watching lightning split the black expanse in brilliant shocks of blue and white could be soothing, but only if someone watched from a comfortable, dry place. While the stifling humidity would soon end in Derecho Season, the wind and rain would not. The fifth and final Alönian season, Derecho, battered the Houselands with wind gusts and pelting rain and, on rare occasions, hail. By the cycles’ end Alönia lay sodden and ready for Taumore Season’s mists to start again.

  That was why every Alönian dreamed of owning a skiff like the 71 and rising above the clouds to bask in the light of the sun. Inhabitants could only take cloud cover and rain for so long, for everyone yearned for warmth and light. The nice thing about Blythe’s 71 was that with a length of less than forty feet, it could fly outside the regulated air traffic lanes at whatever altitude the driver preferred.

  Blythe stayed above the clouds and flew the most direct line to the Third District. David breathed in the air and closed his eyes as the wind whipped his hair and the sun warmed his face. It had been awhile since he’d felt that—not since … not since the accident. He put a hand up and let the draft whistle through his fingers. How he had missed this. After a little more than an hour of slicing swaths through the tops of clouds, the odometer chimed like a kitchen steamer, and Blythe pulled the altitude control. He raised the skiff’s cloth roof before dropping through the clouds, but not before fogging David’s goggles. After wiping them, David looked through Úoi Season’s light rain at the familiar landscape of the Third District of Braxton. As pleasant as the journey had been, he could only wonder what kind of reception they were in for below.

  ◆◆◆

  “Condemn?” Linden said, snorting. “You can’t do that.” His greasy hair shook as his scruffy faced puckered. The man’s squat stature looked out of place with the half dozen grim-faced bodyguards arrayed around him in the middle of his lavish office.

  “Linden,” Blythe said, “the house has the authority to take your land if it is for a public use.”

  Blythe sat opposite Linden and next to David, both in plush armchairs, the Linden Airsail logo embroidered on the cushions. The only thing that overshadowed the office’s extravagant furnishings was the excess of dust.

  David saw Blythe blow a bit off his lapel before continuing, “In this case it is for the use of Public Pharmaceuticals, who will be a mass employer of the unemployed in this district.”

  “What you want to help those wretches for?” Linden said. “If you ask me, we ought to stop feeding them so they quit being a burden on the responsible populous.”

  David sat bolt upright and might have pounced on Linden if Blythe hadn’t rested a firm hand on his shoulder.

  “Well, nobody did ask you, Linden,” Blythe said, giving David a stern look before removing his hand. “The point is, we have a public use.”

  “And you’re going to take my business away so Public Pharmaceuticals can make more dope for the children of neglectful parents? The hallucinogen-addicted miscreants? T
he … The lazy hypochondriacs? Downright thievery, it is!” Linden shook his head and some greasy strands of hair flopped around. “The government can’t just waltz in and steal whatever it wants.”

  “Nobody is stealing anything,” David said, which was exactly four more words than Blythe had authorized him to say. But now that he’d stepped in the muck, he figured he might as well wade through to the other side. “You will be fairly compensated according to the property’s value. Besides, just think of all those people you laid off having a job again. But I suppose the only thing you care about is the clink of sterling, you greedy little—”

  “Scalpel, David, not the sledgehammer,” Blythe whispered between smiling lips as he dusted off an armrest before resting his elbow there.

  “Well,” Linden said, “if the government is going to take my property, I want double its value. Seems only fair that if everybody else is going to make money out of this deal, I should make the most.”

  “David, why don’t you explain to our friend what the legal definition of just compensation is,” Blythe said in a tone that made his meaning clear: “Stick to the script, kid.”

  “Just compensation, according to long-standing House Rules, is equal to the tax-assessed value. We took the liberty of pulling the property records on our way over here.”

  David leaned forward and handed Linden the Governmental Notice Form with the stated public use and the proposed compensation already filled in.

  “But … But this is half of what it’s worth,” Linden said with his recessed jaw resting on a palm. “It’s only assessed at that value because you’ve scalped all my profits through your social assistance programs.”

  “Linden,” Blythe said, resting his head on a thumb and forefinger, “let’s not play games. You live in an extravagant house in one of the nicest areas in the whole district. You have two yachts, and two mistresses—and a wife who doesn’t know of either. I’d say your profits are just fine if you’re able to live like that. Wouldn’t you agree?”