Decommissioned Power Plant
David trudges through the deep snow with labored effort. One foot doesn't begin moving until the other has fully stopped. He tries to only walk in the footsteps of Thalia, who is leading the way to the power plant, but her stride is too different to follow, feels awkward to David like climbing a set of steps to shallow and long. Gahein follows behind, bounding the widened steps of two people instead of one. The sun is high and bright, but a nearly cloudless sky lets the heat escape into space, and the field they are walking channels wind along the surface, carrying a fine powered snow, keeping the temperature at fridged levels.
There is no memory of sleep, mostly the vague darkness of the living room, of thinking for so long that David was no longer aware of his body, only an essence of what he might comprise of. The same feeling persists as they cross lengths of snowy field. He is hardly aware of what they're doing, mildly irritated by an invisible itch, a need for something that he cannot find, well sure of the fact that an abandoned power plant will not have any answers for him.
At the crest of the next hill their destination appears, nestled in a small valley, brick and iron work standing at least fifteen stories tall. There are a few trucks parked outside that look new.
Thalia crouches. "Those aren't supposed to be there. It must seem like I'm trying to get you two into trouble or something. I'll bet they've started deconstruction finally, and those are company trucks left here for the weekend. Let's check it out a little closer."
The three of them slide carefully down the hill, trying to keep their tracks as minimal as possible. They approach the side of the building in shade, and walk along the wall until they can see the trucks. They're off and empty. Wind glides through the valley and rustles the plastic sheets that are covering giant holes in the wall. One sheet folds open and allows a brief view inside, revealing a forest of steel. Twisting and converging pipes, gauges, valves, and ladders so thick, there's hardly room to walk. Before David can even begin to acknowledge what he's seen, Thalia and Gahein are off and running underneath the plastic doorway. He scrambles and follows them inside, away from the bright snow and biting winds. They jog through the first floor, looking for a way up, glancing side to side, trying to keep all angles of vision covered, to see a worker or security camera before it sees them. They're climbing up a staircase, running through more hallways, and finally they stop in a long corridor. There's a gantry crane above, and the air is rich with the scent of iron and corrosion. It's quiet, except for their breathing. They listen closely for the sounds of pursuers, foot steps, shouting, anything that would mean an early exit was necessary.
David is staring at the gantry crane, wondering how much weight it can hold. The harsh whispering between Gahein and Thalia reminds him of their situation and its eminent legal danger. Thalia has been here before he tells himself, she can act for all three of us, and he continues to take in his surroundings. The violent shivers in his chest have stopped. The power plant is warm, and to David, feels more humane than the outdoors have today. It's colorful in here, the smells are rich and vibrant, the air is close and comforting, rather than sharp and icy. Worker's white chalk scrawls are visible in the brick, a pair of gloves rest next to an empty thermos, there has been life here, evidence of a once busy factory floor is plainly obvious, observed in the wear of the machines, in the floor, in the paint rubbed from hand holds and railings. Outside in the snow, nothing survives. Even their foot prints will be gone by tomorrow.
Thalia is walking again, and David falls into line. He only pauses to take the occasional photograph, and runs to catch back up each time. There are sheets hung to create whole sections of wall. Rooms of white plastic are set up all over the factory, and inside, large construction lamps have been left turned on, casting shadows of the objects within for David to try and guess at what they might be.
Each room is filled with a different type of equipment, some bits are gigantic, and occupy several stories worth of space, other rooms have hundreds of small machines and belts and hoses littered all around. The only consistency is metal and brick. Where ever they go, everything is held together and framed in iron, steel, rivets, bolts, beams, and bricks. From the windows, there is nothing to be seen except an expanse of snow. Even the hills appear to all meld together into one big white canvas. It stings his eyes with the reflected sun. He pulls his head back inside, and sits down on a steel grate. The power plant is humming, not with electricity, but with its own history, as if over the length of however many years, it's collected a little bit of energy from each worker. Each hand that has moved its machinery, each set of legs that has crossed its floor, to David, sitting now with his back against the window, it's all still here, humming in testament to the labors of human kind.
The rich quality of the air suddenly means something. He leans up and breathes deep. This power plant is a holy place. Is the industrial worker of Gahein's book aware of this feeling? Does he acknowledge the magic present in a factory on a daily basis? Whether or not he knows it, he is both patron and saint, as much responsible for its smells and sounds and soul as anyone else who might have been employed here. David can hear Gahein walking around nearby, and wonders if he should tell him what he's discovered of the character, what he's responsible for. He rests his head back against the wall and puts his camera away. The workers of this factory, he decides, may have been tormented by the same desires as him, but they had a clarity in purpose that could only be known to the working person, to the person who's only concern was food on the table and a steady pay. Rightfully so, David imagines. Life must have been difficult before modern convenience, but faith was easier to come by.
Thalia and Gahein find their way towards David, and join him in sitting down. The three of them chat quietly about the place, about how large and old it might be, and about what has changed since Thalia's last visit. They have a good amount of notes and reference photographs, so it's decided they'll leave while it's still bright outside. Back down several flights of stairs and through the plastic doorway, David admires what he can of the place in its new holy light before he leaves, hopefully absorbing some of its energy, touching everything he can with a bare hand.
