Chapter 8: Santa's Workshop

Wendy shivered. The winter sky was saturated with sea salt. It made it colder. Fingers shaking, she followed Jim.

He led her to a homemade garage. As they entered, motion sensors flickered to life. Wendy immediately smelled sawdust and machine grease, evidence to the tools and spare parts lining the work benches.

What she didn't expect were the books. Stacks and shelves of them: manuals, hardcovers, paperbacks, do-it-yourselfs, printouts, pdfs. Wendy squinted, skimming the titles. The Art of Design. Electrical Engineering. Quantum Mechanics. Calculus. The Photoelectric Effect and Applications. The Beautiful Profound Universe. Solar Energy.

"Goodness." She opened a bookmarked text. Notes were written in the margins. "Did you read all these?"

"Not yet. Okay, come here."

Wendy turned. Her jaw dropped. "What is that?"

Jim had uncovered a machine. He did not smile, but caressed the machine lovingly.

"Solar surfer."

"What's it for?" Inspecting the craft, she took a guess. "Does it use sun power to sail?"

Jim looked mildly impressed. Still, shaking his head, he crouched. Wendy followed as he pointed to sail-like extensions. "Solar surfers use energy from the sun to fly."

"Fly?"

Jim nodded. "See these sails? Most important part of the solar surfer. See the how the sail looks like a bunch of diamond tiles glued together with grout? Grout, you know grout - the filling between floor tiles?"

Wendy nodded.

"Well," Jim continued, "the diamonds are ultrathin mirrors. Very light. Very durable. Very temperature resistant. The filling in-between the diamonds are made of tiny solar cells."

Jim pointed to the diamond ultrathin mirrors. "Now. The mirrors are exactly like the ship sails on the ocean. Ship sails get pushed by wind, right? Well, these mirrors get pushed by sunlight, by reflecting sunlight. Sunlight is made of billions and billions of tiny dots called photons."

"Photons?"

"Yeah. The photons hit the mirrors and get reflected. It's kinda like they bounce off. And when something bounces off you – "

Turning, Jim thumped Wendy with the heel of his hand.

" – it propels you in space." he finished as Wendy swayed.

Wendy straightened herself. "What about the filling in-between? The grout?"

Jim nodded. "Solar cells." he corrected. "They convert sun energy to electricity. It's a process called the…photoener…photoelement…shit!"

Wendy jumped, surprised and appalled at his language. Unnoticed, Jim shook his head, frustrated. "Damn it…I can't remember. Photo-something effect."

The word sequence triggered something in the back of Wendy's head. Searching through the books, she pointed at a thick spine. The Photoelectric Effect and Applications. "Photoelectric effect?"

Jim looked at her. "Yeah." he said in an odd tone. "Yeah. Photoelectric effect." He turned, rummaging through the tools. "Good catch."

Wendy smiled, a little pleased. "Thanks."

"The point is…" Jim said, fitting a screw driver under the tack, "…is that the sails trap and store electricity to power the engine for lift off. And for quick bursts of speed. All other directional movement – left, right, up, down – is controlled by the mirrors. So, all you need to ride is a pivot point for the sails that connects to the board – these right here – and good balance to stay on."

He glanced through his bangs. "Pretty cool, huh?"

Wendy was enthralled. "Dreadfully cool. Who made it?"

Jim twisted the screwdriver. "Me."

"You?"

"Yup."

"But…" flabbergasted, Wendy gestured wide. "…but this is incredible!"

Jim allowed himself a small, smug smile. "Made my first solar surfer when I was eight."

Wendy was impressed. Forgetting the cold, she stared at the solar surfer. She was about to ask Jim why he was still fixing it, but as she turned he answered by dumping a blow torch in her hand.

"The engine needs to be welded to the base." Jim said, donning gloves and goggles. "I need two people. I was supposed to do it with…before he…"

The cloud darkened over Jim's eyes. Accusingly, he glared at Wendy as if she had tried to read his thoughts. Clearing his throat, Jim handed her a pair of goggles.

"You any good?"

Wendy hefted the blow torch. It was almost her size. "With what?"

Jim nodded. "That."

"What do I do?"

"Hold it." Jim said. "Need a steady hand. A very steady hand. You look like you got two."

Wendy realized that in his dark tone, Jim had complimented her. "…I use to sew." she offered, taking the goggles. "Stitch. Very small. Nearly invisible."

Jim was satisfied. "Good."

Lowering his goggles and indicating that Wendy should do the same, he knelt by the engine. Positioning it he looked up. "Red switch to turn on. Point the flame right here. Then hold. Got it?"

Wendy nodded. She readied the torch. "I think so."

"No thinks. Yes or no."

Wendy bit her lip. She flipped the red switch. "Got it."

The blowtorch nearly blew Wendy away. The hefting nearly broke her arm. The screwing nearly twisted her wrist off. But as Wendy and Jim worked side by side, hammering their souls into the solar surfer, they both forgot why they were supposed to be sad.