sitting on exquisitely hand-carved wooden chairs. “So where is Mr. Solomon?”
Hespera hugged an older woman as she rounded the first stone around the resting grove, exchanged a bit of muted small talk, introduced Mason, then moved on through the grove, past others, smiling and nodding to him.
“Solomon is at an annual shareholder meeting in Fresno.”
“Oh? I didn’t realize Solstice was publicly traded.”
“It’s not. But we still have investors, and Solomon likes to keep them happy.”
“And are they?” he wondered. “With Solstice’s performance and potential, I can imagine they are, but I wonder what sort of control investors might have? Avery Solomon doesn’t strike me as a man who likes to yield control. To shareholders, board members, or anyone else.”
“Oh I wouldn’t say that,” Hespera countered, just as cheerfully. “As you’ll see, he’s very keen on sharing ideas, on delegating and most importantly, listening.”
He paused as they walked under a trellis. “Is that mistletoe?”
Hespera nodded with a grin. “Of course, but don’t get excited. Workplace PDA isn’t highly approved of here, but neither is it discouraged.”
She gave him a wink, then turned and headed for a descending staircase.
“Come on, now you’ll see where all the work gets done. And if you’re anything like me—or like your son, which I imagine you are—you’re going to love it!”
Mason turned and took a last look at the grove, at the employees sipping their teas, relaxing in the soothing natural environment.
I guess it’s not so bad, he thought with a budding sense of belonging.
O O O
Two hours later, his head was still spinning like an uneven top, wobbling and bouncing off jagged walls.
“I’m still trying to process it all,” he told Hespera as they took a break by a natural stream—a waterfall spilling out from the tiled black wall on the sixth sublevel. The chamber itself was a vast and stylishly decorated chamber with blocks of smooth marble arranged in comfortable sitting patterns around a center pool filled with colorful fish and dazzling rocks. A lone shaft of light from overhead hit a suspended glass and split into three beams over the pond. “I mean, the library alone on sublevel four …”
“A bit comprehensive, isn’t it?”
“Solomon’s quite the collector. I mean, ancient leather bound copies of Herodotus and Aristotle, Thesperata’s treatises on meteorology …” He could still picture the rest: almanacs from every decade of American history back to the Colonies; studies of native weather myths and shamanistic weather practices from across the world. Books and binders of original observations that would make Charles Fort proud. Some first editions were behind glass, most others scanned and available on dozens of workstations.
Hespera dipped her mug into the stream, pulled it out and took a deep swig, her eyes closed. “Nothing was ever so refreshing.” She sighed. “But yes, he’s an avid collector. I’m sure you’ll get to know him a lot better in the coming weeks and will learn a great deal more about his background and what drove him to create such a company, with such goals.” She licked her lips. “Gabriel was a perfect addition, as I’m sure you’ll be. Do you have any other questions right now, before I show you the weather center?”
Mason thought for a moment, listening to the flowing water and wondering where it came from, how far down it traveled and from what source. Questions? He had so many he didn’t know where to start. Like how was all this built? Who designed the layout and why did every architectural aspect feel so perfect? So precise, down to the orientations of the walls and workstations, repeating circular patterns with vertical lines bisecting the boundaries? In fact, it was the same as the depiction of the letter O in the second letter of Solstice on the firm’s stationary, communications and even its website. That, along with
Hespera hugged an older woman as she rounded the first stone around the resting grove, exchanged a bit of muted small talk, introduced Mason, then moved on through the grove, past others, smiling and nodding to him.
“Solomon is at an annual shareholder meeting in Fresno.”
“Oh? I didn’t realize Solstice was publicly traded.”
“It’s not. But we still have investors, and Solomon likes to keep them happy.”
“And are they?” he wondered. “With Solstice’s performance and potential, I can imagine they are, but I wonder what sort of control investors might have? Avery Solomon doesn’t strike me as a man who likes to yield control. To shareholders, board members, or anyone else.”
“Oh I wouldn’t say that,” Hespera countered, just as cheerfully. “As you’ll see, he’s very keen on sharing ideas, on delegating and most importantly, listening.”
He paused as they walked under a trellis. “Is that mistletoe?”
Hespera nodded with a grin. “Of course, but don’t get excited. Workplace PDA isn’t highly approved of here, but neither is it discouraged.”
She gave him a wink, then turned and headed for a descending staircase.
“Come on, now you’ll see where all the work gets done. And if you’re anything like me—or like your son, which I imagine you are—you’re going to love it!”
Mason turned and took a last look at the grove, at the employees sipping their teas, relaxing in the soothing natural environment.
I guess it’s not so bad, he thought with a budding sense of belonging.
O O O
Two hours later, his head was still spinning like an uneven top, wobbling and bouncing off jagged walls.
“I’m still trying to process it all,” he told Hespera as they took a break by a natural stream—a waterfall spilling out from the tiled black wall on the sixth sublevel. The chamber itself was a vast and stylishly decorated chamber with blocks of smooth marble arranged in comfortable sitting patterns around a center pool filled with colorful fish and dazzling rocks. A lone shaft of light from overhead hit a suspended glass and split into three beams over the pond. “I mean, the library alone on sublevel four …”
“A bit comprehensive, isn’t it?”
“Solomon’s quite the collector. I mean, ancient leather bound copies of Herodotus and Aristotle, Thesperata’s treatises on meteorology …” He could still picture the rest: almanacs from every decade of American history back to the Colonies; studies of native weather myths and shamanistic weather practices from across the world. Books and binders of original observations that would make Charles Fort proud. Some first editions were behind glass, most others scanned and available on dozens of workstations.
Hespera dipped her mug into the stream, pulled it out and took a deep swig, her eyes closed. “Nothing was ever so refreshing.” She sighed. “But yes, he’s an avid collector. I’m sure you’ll get to know him a lot better in the coming weeks and will learn a great deal more about his background and what drove him to create such a company, with such goals.” She licked her lips. “Gabriel was a perfect addition, as I’m sure you’ll be. Do you have any other questions right now, before I show you the weather center?”
Mason thought for a moment, listening to the flowing water and wondering where it came from, how far down it traveled and from what source. Questions? He had so many he didn’t know where to start. Like how was all this built? Who designed the layout and why did every architectural aspect feel so perfect? So precise, down to the orientations of the walls and workstations, repeating circular patterns with vertical lines bisecting the boundaries? In fact, it was the same as the depiction of the letter O in the second letter of Solstice on the firm’s stationary, communications and even its website. That, along with
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