Deep amber sunset bled through the high barred high window row window of the washroom. He cast the long shadow of the iron grille across the six-foot black slate board mounted beside the Courtesy Arch. The cellar smelled of dry white chalk dust, cooling mutton broth, linseed ink from the pinned academy broadsheet. The steady brass tick of the unloaded gear catch. Pella Rook stood before the freshly washed slate with Hal Rook’s wooden ruler in her left hand and two sticks of chalk—one white, one red—in her right.
Her right hand was powdered white to the second knuckle. The muscles along her collarbone ached from ruling straight level lines across six feet of slate at shoulder height. Behind her on the flat stone slabs stood Foreman Eren Tal, Sister Merrow, master tailor Dima Fen, and Junior Examiner Corvin. She watched in total silence as she structured the workshop’s war board.
Across the top of the slate, in bold two-inch red capitals underlined twice with the boxwood flat ruler, Pella wrote: EIGHTEEN DAYS TO SOLSTICE LOCKDOWN. 432 HOURS Leftover. Below that header she divided the board into two equal upright halves. On the left, Checked EMPIRICAL FACTS. On the right, SOLSTICE INTERVENTION & RESCUE PLAN.
