One of O’Brien’s aides lifted a cut-glass tumbler and a decanter from the rack on the side of the limousine’s compartment. The other hauled out an ice bucket. Between them they poured a stiff shot of whiskey for O’Brien. They offered the same to Tomlinson, but he shook his head and asked for a beer, instead.

By the time they had rolled through the town of Lignite, Jake was swabbing his hands with a weird-smelling moist paper towelette and trying hard to suppress a burp.

They could hear the roar from the big rig even through the limo’s closed windows while they were still more than half a mile away from the test facility.

Rogers grinned and looked at his wristwatch. “Approaching seventy-five hours,” he said, beaming.

Francis X. O’Brien nodded vacantly.

Tomlinson said, “They’re aiming for a hundred hours of continuous operation.”

“At fifty megawatts,” Rogers added.

O’Brien nodded again.

Inside the test cell they all wore earphones as they crowded into the control booth. Tim Younger was all business; he barely shook hands with O’Brien and Tomlinson. From the strained expression on his face it looked clear to Jake that Tim regarded them as an interruption, tourists poking their noses into the very serious business of making the MHD generator run properly.

The trouble was, Jake quickly realized, that there was nothing much to see. The big rig was running smoothly and once the visitors had been shown the dials that indicated all was going well they quickly lost interest. When everything’s going right, it’s dull, Jake thought. Disasters are where the excitement is. After less than ten minutes Tomlinson led them all back outside again.

Younger looked relieved to see them go. Amy seemed subdued, almost worried.

Outside, it was cold despite the pale March sunshine. O’Brien made a beeline for the waiting limousine. Tomlinson trailed after him.

Once they were all jammed in and the limo started the long ride back to the city, O’Brien’s flacks poured him another shot of whiskey.

Tomlinson put on his best smile and asked, “Well, Mr. O’Brien, what do you think?”

O’Brien took a gulp of his drink. “Seems to be running all right.”

“The goal is one hundred hours of continuous operation,” Amy said, still sitting between the two men.

“At fifty megawatts,” Rogers added once again.

O’Brien said, “Impressive.”

“It’s the wave of the future,” Tomlinson said. “And you can put the National Association on the bandwagon.”

O’Brien glanced at his two aides, then asked, “What bandwagon?”

“The MHD bandwagon,” Tomlinson said, with some surprise in his expression. “The National Association of Electric Utilities can position itself as being in favor of a new, more efficient way of generating electrical power. You can show the American consumer that—”

“Why should we be in favor of a more efficient way of generating electrical power?” O’Brien asked, almost crossly.