Final Solstice by David Sakmyster Page A

wringed out his shirt. He blinked and shook his head, then looked to Solomon.
    Head down, stringy, dripping red hair over his face, Solomon’s eyes blazed.
    “You knew,” Mason said. “Somehow you knew, arranged for this … this dramatic demonstration. Arranged for me to be up here at just the right time.”
    “Did I?”
    “Yes, you had to. Don’t know how, or why, but you did.”
    “Of course I did,” Solomon said, just above a whisper. “What other alternative could there be?”
    Mason shrugged. “No other possible alternative, except …”
    “What? What were you going to say?” Solomon stepped closer, still dripping, his eyes blinking away the drops. “That I somehow … created the storm?”
    Mason shook his head. “No. You knew, somehow you could predict it. But to do that with such accuracy …”
    “Would be miraculous in its own right, would it not?” Solomon clasped his hands together.
    “So it’s like Mark Twain!” Mason said.
    “Sorry?”
    “Just like … like what was it, the Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court ? The time traveler knew about the pending eclipse, the precise day and time it was going to happen, so he was able to amaze the King, convince him he was a sorcerer.”
    Solomon laughed as he shook his head like a freshly bathed mongrel, then reached for his wet shirt. “So you think I’m a time traveler? Back from the future with precise knowledge of a freak weather anomaly?”
    “No, of course not. But by the same token, knowledge of the future, if one could truly predict it, is a powerful tool, especially in a showman’s hands.”
    “If I’m a showman Mr. Grier, what’s the punchline? What do I want out of all this showmanship?”
    “That’s obvious. You want to impress me.” Mason smoothed back his hair, licked his lips, never taking his eye off of Solomon. “I just don’t know why. Why you’d be interested in little old me, my recent Meteorologist of the Year award notwithstanding? But right now I’m more concerned with the how than the why. How you were able to know this storm would hit? I desperately want to look at the time-lapsed radar for this area, check the barometric pressure leading up to the event, analyze the front patterns and …”
    Solomon held up a hand. “What’s really going to blow your mind, Mr. Grier, isn’t how I knew this storm was coming, but when I knew it. What if I were to tell you I knew about it, down to its duration, area of coverage and wind speed, over four weeks ago?”
    Mason blinked. “I’d say you were insane. The most sophisticated weather forecasting tools can only predict out a few days, maybe six to ten, with any degree of accuracy, and it’s always less and less clear the farther out you go. We rely on almanacs, trailing weather patterns from across the country and out to sea. Global and regional satellite data. There are so many variables, so many factors that even the most sophisticated software and weather analytical tools can only make educated guesses.”
    “Chaos Theory,” suggested Solomon. “A butterfly flapping its wings in Madagascar might contribute to a hurricane in Cuba the next week. Am I right?”
    “An overly-dramatic Hollywood simplification, but basically you’ve got it.”
    “Well, Mace, then how did I do it?”
    “I’m dying to know.”
    Solomon grinned. “Agree to work for me, and I’ll show you.”
    “I don’t know.…”
    “I’ll do that one better, Mason. Come work for me and you’ll be the one to show me, to demonstrate how to complete what we’ve started, to perfect the tools we’ve already created.”
    “So you’ve got some sort of model? A complex software forecasting tool? And it’s good enough to predict the two-minute storm we just had, down to the exact time, weeks in advance?”
    “Imagine,” Solomon said, “the practical uses. Hurricane warnings can come a month ahead, rather than just days or hours, allowing for all the necessary preparations,