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the size of the ill-fated
Akron
and
Macon
. Standing near the building was a battery of smaller structures protecting boilers and direct steam generators. Matt reflected that the arrangement was a far cry from their first efforts at making electricity in Baalkpan not so very long ago, and the Lemurians deserved most of the credit.
Walker
’s own 25-kilowatt generators were direct steam drive, so the example was there, but their first domestic machines had been far cruder, more complicated belt-drive generators powered by reciprocating engines. They were already building the engines and hadn’t had the machining capacity to make even the relatively simple turbines for the better generators back then. The ’Cats themselves changed that, and real turbine
engines
were in the works in Baalkpan now.
    High Sky Priest Meksnaak was obviously thinking about the generators too, and blinked disapproval at the buildings protecting them. “I confess . . . discomfort over this invisible force called eleks-tricky we grow so dependent upon,” he muttered. “It powers nearly everything now, particularly at this facility. The Sacred Scrolls themselves warn against placing faith in unseen forces other than the Maker.”
    “You can’t see the wind,” Sandra countered reasonably, “but it moves the great Homes. There’s not much wind today, but you can feel it.”
    “But the wind is a
natural
thing, given by the Maker,” Meksnaak insisted. “You build this eleks-tricky with machines!”
    “
Electricity
is also made by the Maker,” Matt countered, stressing the proper, less-sinister pronunciation. “Lightning’s a prime example; it zaps down from the heavens all the time.”
    “And represents the Maker’s
anger
,” Meksnaak persisted. “I can think of no better reason not to fool about with it! Yet everything you build either makes or uses it!”
    “A hand fan makes a wind,” said Sandra. “Is that cooling breeze somehow dangerous?”
    “A high wind can be most dangerous!”
    Matt sighed and looked at Saan-Kakja. “Electricity’s vital to our industry, and ultimately the whole war effort. Sure, we generate it, harness it, and bend it to our will, but it’s not magic. We make it in much the same way the Maker generates it in the sky, only we make controlled amounts—and put it to use.” He shook his head. “How exactly that’s done is a question for engineers like Spanky, or the EMs Riggs and Ronson trained.” He chuckled. “We didn’t have electricity on Dad’s ranch when I was growing up. We used oil lamps just like you. We had batteries for the radio and the car and trucks, but that was it. Little generators in the vehicles kept the batteries charged. Anyway, though I understand the basics, I’m no expert. I do know we wouldn’t’ve had trucks or tractors or any number of things Dad needed around the place—things that gave him an edge—if electricity hadn’t helped make them. We need electricity to gain and keep an edge in this damn war.”
    “We built many things before eleks-tricky came to us,” Meksnaak grumbled.
    “Sure, and Dad had a ranch before we had trucks and tractors—but it took ten times the labor to grow fodder, transport stock, haul hay and fencing . . . the list is endless. And that was just a ranch, not a war. To win the war we need to free up as much of our labor force as we can to fight—while still producing more of the tools to do it.”
    “Mr. Riggs explained it to me when I was in Baalkpan,” Saan-Kakja interjected. “He was . . . frustrated with me, I think, but he likened electricity to the gaas-o-leen fuel for the ‘Naan-cee’ engines—and others now. Generating it is like refining the gaas-o-leen, while the wires carry it to the lights and machines like fuel lines—somehow—even though there is no hole. Changing or regulating the . . .” She paused, remembering. “The vol-taage,” she said triumphantly, “is like metering the fuel to a machine