But reality would’ve crept in at some point. It always did. He was supposed to be here wooing a king, a sultan. Not whoever Hasim was.
Sullen, Francis gazed out at the passing city streets, feeling adrift. If he could at the very least bring home some information to Granny about solar energy, maybe it wasn’t all a lost cause.
Hasim seemed to sense Francis was in a mood and didn’t speak much. The tram rattled more noisily over the streets anyway, so they would’ve had to raise their voices to speak. People got on and off whenever the tram stopped, wrapped up in their own business. Francis watched one older gentleman standing in the car, holding onto a rail with his left hand while the right hung by his side, holding a set of polished beads. His thumb racked the beads around and around, until he got off at the next stop.
Soon, the tram left the bustling centre of Istanbul, and the noise reduced. Francis now heard the voices of their female companions in the next car, talking at a rate of knots. Hasim still hadn’t said anything, and now Francis felt bad for the silence between them.
Delicately, he cleared his throat. “How much farther?” he asked politely.
“Two stops,” Hasim said. “But some walk after.”
Francis nodded. He was excited to see whatever it was they were going to see.
* * * *
Their tram crested a small hill, and Hasim pointed out to Francis how some of the buildings below glittered in the sun.
“This is a solar farm,” he said.
Francis didn’t understand how that worked. How wouldshiny rooftops collect the sun?
When they got off at their stop, it was in a wide street taken up by a factory.
A factory with remarkable architecture, but clearly a factory.
Hasim’s female friends didn’t accompany them this time but stayed on the tram and waved goodbye as they rode away.
Francis was pleased it was just the two of them now.
Some men in short sleeved tunics and baggy trousers were outside the factory entrance, in the middle of unloading a box of metal rods, but they paused their work and bowed when Hasim and Francis approached.
Francis was used to people bowing and didn’t realise until afterwards that it was strange they had bowed, when Francis was in disguise. But he was too interested in seeing the factory to think on it.
One of the men took them inside after a quick conversation in Turkish, and Francis was led on another wonderful journey of discovery.
Never in his life had he seen a factory like this: tall inside, with a domed roof made of glass, letting the light in, and tall windows. Sturdy wrought iron framework crisscrossed the upper space, complimenting the glass in a pleasing way. Mosaic tiles decorated the walls inside, with a recurring motif of the rising sun.
And all of this to house machinery the likes of which Francis could never have dreamt existed; large cylinders of varying sizes, all humming and glowing in golden light.
Workers dressed casually flitted about among the machines, some floor level and some suspended. One of them removed a set of dark goggles from her head, grey hair tied back from her face, and approached them.
She spoke in Turkish as she greeted Hasim with a smileand kissed both his cheeks.
Hasim smiled back then introduced Francis in German.
“Archie, this is my cousin, Sanay. She is the senior engineer. If you have questions, she is the one to ask.”
“A pleasure to meet you,” Francis said, bowing his head to her.
Sanay took no notice of his formality and drew Francis in for two kisses, too.
“Welcome!” she said in German, her accent not as strong as Hasim’s. “Have you witnessed the power of solar energy before?”
“No, I haven’t,” Francis replied. If one didn’t count the sun burning his skin to a crisp. “I’m curious as to how it works.”
“You saw the silver panels outside?” Sanay asked him.
“Yes, Hasim pointed them out.”
