A blare of police sirens turned everybody toward the far end of town where B. Franklin Tomlinson had arrived, not in a limousine, but in a blocky Hummer painted red, white, and blue. Led by a pair of local police cruisers, Tomlinson’s Hummer paraded through town, flags waving from its fenders, and stopped at the freshly painted city hall. The mayor and entire city council stood at the front steps to welcome Tomlinson. He bounded out of the van, all smiles, and began to shake hands with the politicians. Tomlinson’s father climbed stiffly out of the Hummer behind the candidate, looking doubtful about this whole affair. Amy came right behind him, beaming beautifully in white slacks and a blue blouse with a red scarf around her throat.

Now all we need is for the MHD generator to work, Jake thought. He suppressed an urge to cross his fingers.

As Tomlinson and the mayor led a procession of VIPs and campaign workers from the steps of city hall, across the town’s main street, and up to the platform that had been erected on the edge of the town square, Jake scanned the crowd for Glynis. She was nowhere in sight. She’s up at the big rig with Tim, Jake told himself.

The sun was setting, but the streets of Lignite were still hot and dusty. Jake shuffled along with the crowd thronging around the speakers’ platform in the square, sweaty and more nervous with each passing instant. The people were in a holiday mood, laughing, happy. Children ran through the crowd. Somebody popped a string of firecrackers and everybody jumped, startled for a moment.

The town’s high school band—in uniforms that looked spanking new—broke into “Stars and Stripes Forever,” drowning out the hundreds of conversations buzzing through the crowd. Jake stood in their midst, feeling alone, searching for Glynis even though he knew she wouldn’t be there.

Jake had given Amy the precise time for sunset, and at that moment Tomlinson, his father, Amy, the mayor, and the city council and their wives all slowly climbed the wooden steps of the platform.

The band crashed to its conclusion and the mayor stepped up to the lectern. He was a pudgy man with bulging frog’s eyes and a wide, accommodating smile. The last rays of the setting sun made his face look florid. Then he mopped his forehead with a big white handkerchief and Jake realized that the man was perspiring.

“Friends, neighbors, and visitors,” the mayor began, his voice booming from loudspeakers placed around the square, “welcome to America’s birthday celebration!”

The crowd roared.

The speeches droned on as the shadows of dusk inched across the square. Each and every one of the city council members got to say a few words. Portable lamps that had been placed at the corners of the platform began to glow. Jake spotted the planet Venus gleaming beautifully in the darkening sky.