Page 64 of Possibly Texas

“What?”

“Well, see,” Auggie stepped away from his worktable towards the giant metal cylinder in the center of the room, “all of the tubes can be crawled through. But you have to find the exact path to get to the two that open into the room in the center. In the silo.”

It was part of a silo.

“It’s pitch black inside the silo,” he said, “so, when you’re inside, and you’re looking up at the stars through the skylight, it’s like an observatory. The silo blocks out all of the light and helps your eyes adjust to the dark better and quicker. So you see the stars more clearly. You see more of the stars, actually. There’s not much light pollution in Possibly, so that helps.”

I stared at him.

“The gag is,” he continued, “you hit a switch. Here.”

He pointed at a level by his worktable.

“Lights come on. The lights and the skylight are on a timer. As soon as you hit the lever, you dash into the ductwork and try to find your way to the middle. If you get to the silo before the timer runs out, there’s another lever you can pull to stop the timer.”

“What happens if you don’t get there in time?”

“The skylight closes and the lights stay on.”

“If you pull the other lever?”

“The lights go out, but the skylight stays open,” he said. “Then you can stare up at the stars all you want. You can watch all the universe your eyes can see for as long as you want. Until dawn if you like.”

I smiled.

“Do you want to see it work?”

“Uh, yeah,” I said, grinning widely.

“Tonight,” Auggie said. “Eleven-thirty?”

“Okay.”

He nodded.

“I—I don’t know if this is weird,” I said, suddenly wanting to tell Auggie a truth. “But I saw you a few times before I actually introduced myself to you at The Pueblo that one day.”

“Yeah?”

“Um, yeah. In the woods?” I rolled my shoulders. “What’s with the windchimes? Did you put all of those windchimes out there? Sometimes I hear them in town if the breeze is just right.”

“No. I didn’t put them all out there.”

“Who did?”

He made a goofy face at me.

“No one knows,” he said.

“Right.”

“Seriously,” he said. “No one knows. Or no one will say if they do. They’ve been there forever. Sometimes, like, people will add something to one of the windchimes—I have—but I don’t know how they got there originally.”

“Oh. Okay,” I said. “But, like, what’s up with them?”

“It’s kind of a silly Possibly thing.”

“Tell me. I won’t laugh.”