The Maya 1.27
Previously On The Maya...
Amara Barclay visits several clothing stores in the nearest shopping area and marvels at what she finds. Finally, in one store, she asks to speak with the store manager. She proceeds to grill the woman about prices, fabrics, quality and the lack of sex appeal each article of clothing has. The manager answers her with great care and courtesy.
Before she leaves the store, Amara is told she will need to have island dollars, or Islanders, in order to pay for any purchases. She decides to go to a sandwich shop for lunch where she hopes to convert her fiat to the island currency.
The Maya—a living legend covert operative-for-hire that no one she encounters can remember.
George Kirkegaard—a former newspaper owner forced out of business by state government.
Eugenio Stavros—a shipping magnate on a trip to the mysterious Isle of Use to renegotiate a steel contract.
Amara Barclay—a savvy, independent multi-millionaire entrepreneur and socialite with unparalleled beauty.
Mr. Tic and Mr. Snake—two U.S. government officials running off-the-books dark ops involving The Maya.
And now...the next installment of The Maya.
It didn't take long for Kirkegaard to be impressed by the tour of the newspaper facility.
Layton greeted him in the reception area after he checked in, but he quickly handed him off to a general manager whose job, among other things, was to show people around. The general manager, a stocky man in his late fifties, was used to groups of kids, so he was happy not only to have just one guest to talk to, but an adult, and a fellow newspaperman to boot. Kirkegaard made it clear that he was a former publisher, but the man still insisted on treating him like a colleague.
"As the only daily on the island," the general manager said, launching into a well-worn spiel, "The Lighthouse covers everything from local to international news. The island, however, is divided into seven different cities, each with their own independent weeklies. These tend to be very local, while The Lighthouse handles some of that, along with regional and national news. There are no counties, state or other major jurisdictions to cover.
"Crime outside of the hotel zone is nearly nonexistent. So is controversy. The city and federal governments stay out of the limelight, though their meetings are reported on. Likewise school and fire board sessions. The hotel crime news goes on an interior page and is largely formatted as a blotter."
"So, what goes on the front page?" Kirkegaard asked, when the man took a breath. He was acquainted with how dailies, particularly the largest, treated the front page. The most salacious news came first.
"The Lighthouse follows an inside-out news philosophy," the general manager said. "The most compelling local news goes above the fold, followed by the runners-up. Unless it is something major, like a devastating natural disaster, war or other similar in magnitude, the national and international news fill the middle pages."
Kirkegaard's tour of the press, bullpen, executive offices and distribution center took most of an hour and a half. He'd toured daily paper facilities before. His now defunct paper had been printed at such a press. There was a significant distinction between the operations, however.
"The Lighthouse reaches over two hundred thousand homes, with daily page counts normally seen in Sunday editions," the general manager said. Kirkegaard had asked him about subscriptions and the size of each issue. "Only, the content is all produced locally and contains no outside filler. I'd say our display advertising is very robust, likewise the classifieds. The readership is engaged, too. We're constantly inundated with Letters to the Editor, mostly thank yous to local merchants, individuals, churches, clubs and other organizations."
"Yeah, that blows the daily I dealt with out of the water," Kirkegaard said, when the general manager was finished. "They're circulation is around ten thousand, and they're page count has been shrinking for a while now. They don't even handle much of the local news in their own town, let alone the outlying areas."
"Makes you wonder how they intend to stay in business, doesn't it?"
Kirkegaard shrugged. "Eventually, they won't be."
When the tour was over, the general manager shook Kirkegaard's hand, wished him well for the rest of his stay, and dropped him off outside Layton's office door.
"I've got a business association meeting," his friend said, "Kind of like a chamber lunch, except there's no lunch."
"Mind if I tag along?"
"Nope. Thought you might be interested."
It was a sixteen minute walk through the downtown district to the community center where the meeting was to be held. Layton and Kirkegaard were among the first to arrive, so they helped the host, a building contractor, set up tables and chairs. They were expecting well over eight hundred merchants for the meeting. Layton explained that the meetings were held monthly and sponsorship of each session rotated through the membership. Hosting mainly consisted of set up, clean up, and making a presentation about their business. Refreshments were provided by the association.
Kirkegaard wasn't sure what to expect. He'd sat in on a local chamber meeting or two and found them boring and ineffectual. Mostly, the chamber board dealt with dwindling dues to support the chamber's efforts, and a lack of participation by members to see them accomplished.
He soon found out that things were different with the Southeast Business Association. One of a dozen such organizations in the whole of downtown, the SBA enjoyed budget surpluses, more than enough volunteers, and fostered a business-to-business relationship the likes he'd never seen. It didn't hurt that many of the products and services available in the area were complimentary.
By the time the meeting was over, roughly two hours later, Kirkegaard was energized and ready to start up a business. The refreshments, oatmeal cornflake cookies and ginger bread, was tasty, and the milk ice cold. Layton warned him about spoiling his appetite, but Kirkegaard managed to down two cookies, two slices of gingerbread and two cups of milk before that.
"I have a lunch meeting back at the office," Layton said, as they walked out of the community center, "It's a catered deal, planned three weeks ago, and so there's only so much food. I'd forgotten it was today or I would have postponed the tour until tomorrow." He then dipped into his front pocket and pulled out a coin, larger than a silver dollar. It looked like it was fashioned out of gold, with an outline of the island Kirkegaard recognized from the tail of the business jet he'd flown in to the island on one side and the profile of a woman wearing a laureate on the other. The Isle of Use was inscribed in a half circle over her head, while the mint date and number filled the bottom half. "Here's some lunch money, though."
"I can pay for my own," Kirkegaard said.
"Not here you can't," Layton countered. "They won't take dollars." He then told Kirkegaard about the exchange rate and the conversion kiosks.
"Okay," Kirkegaard said, convinced. "I'll defer to your better judgment on this one."
Layton dropped the coin into his hand. On the island side, Kirkegaard saw a large 10 inscribed. "Ten dollars?"
"Islanders," Layton corrected, "So, over thirty-three dollars. You will get change."
"And this is gold?"
"Plated." Layton said with a smile. "Otherwise, it would be worth about triple the face value."
"Gets a little cumbersome to carry around, doesn't it?"
"Yes, but there aren't any paper notes. Mostly, we use debit cards, but it's nice to have the coins on hand for smaller purchases."
"For visitors' lunch money," Kirkegaard quipped.
Layton chuckled. "Precisely." After a pause, he added, "You don't have to come back to the paper office until I'm off if you don't want to. I'm sure there's plenty of things to do for the next three or so hours."
"Okay. I would like a closer look at downtown," Kirkegaard said, "How do I get a hold of you in case I need to?"
Layton took out of his shirt pocket a small metallic device. There were numbers on the front. "I'll give you my cell phone," he said, "Push the bottom button to turn in on, and then space down to the contact list. Click on my office number."
Layton had him repeat the instructions, which Kirkegaard did perfectly. "I've never seen one so small," he said.
"That's one of the cheaper ones," Layton said, "It doesn't do much more than calls. They've got ones that allow you to send emails, phone-to-phone text messages, even get on the internet."
"The internet?" Kirkegaard had heard of it, but his knowledge and experience with it was limited. "Isn't that AOL or Netscape or something like that?"
"Something like that," Layton smiled. "Except here, it's better. I'll have to show you at home this evening." He took a look at his watch. "I'd better run. See you back at the office, about four?"
"Yes, sir," Kirkegaard replied. He was turning to go, when he suddenly realized he didn't know where he was going.
"Try the Outdoor Sandwich Shoppe," Layton said, after a moment's hesitation. "It's really close." He gave Kirkegaard directions and jogged off to his lunch meeting.
A lot of the tables were already taken when Kirkegaard arrived at the eatery. True to its name, the sandwiches and other lunch offerings were made under a large outdoor tent. The building next door was used for storage and overflow in case outdoor seating ran out. Kirkegaard picked out a spot on the outer perimeter, where he could watch patrons coming and going, and then took a look at the menu.
Layton told him he would get some change back from his gold coin, but he didn't say how much. Sandwiches, soups, sides, drinks—all were priced at an islander each. Combos were discounted. It didn't seem possible until he added in the dollar exchange rate. Then, a four item, three islander combo meal became ten bucks.
"I'll take your order if you're ready," a woman's voice said.
Kirkegaard lowered the menu to see the waitress, her brilliant smile beaming. Their eyes met and Kirkegaard felt his jaw drop and his cheeks heat up. He had to clear his throat in order to respond.
"Paloma?"
'The Maya' publishes every Monday, Wednesday and Friday.
Copyright © Glen Anthony Albrethsen, 2014-2018. All rights reserved.
I will have to go and read the previous posts on this, you write with motion, lots of movement here.
Go for it. It's a little hard to do, at least in the first several chapters, just because I didn't start the current "first and previous" format until part way into it.
I'm not sure how much movement there was in this particular installment. In of itself it's kind of boring to me, but since it's part of an almost finished novel, it makes sense in context. So, reading the previous installments would be pretty important.
And there's much more motion in many of the other previous Maya posts. :)