Page 53 of Leafpoint Lighthouse

“Possibly. So, let’s not let that happen. I recognise its make and model. I will tell the person as soon as you discover one. Is there a speedy horse now?”

Lyra looked at me as if I were crazy. “Horse?”

“To deliver the letter.”

“William, we use cars presently. Not horses.” Ah, no wonder she was looking at me as if I were insane.

“Is there a very fast option? The quicker we get the spare ordered, the better,” I inquired.

“We can forward an email.”

“Pardon?” What was an email? Did that mean extremely quickly?

“We log onto my laptop and connect to the internet. Then we type a message in a new mail and send it.”

“Send it where?” I asked, even more confused.

“Over the internet.”

I stared at Lyra, flabbergasted. “We can use your black box to send messages?”

“Yes, and they appear instantly.”

“You’re mocking me!” Nothing could make a letter get there immediately.

“No. Fix this, and I’ll show you.” Lyra appeared serious about what she was saying. Back in my day, making a message appear without delay in front of someone would have meant dark magic. Not that I believed in that. But anyone who could do such a thing would be labelled a witch.

If I hadn’t witnessed other people with this level of technology, I would have considered Lyra a witch myself. But her cousins all had ‘phones’, as did Edmund. They drove those vehicles called cars, and I had seen the locals driving past the lighthouse in them. It was hard enough to understand electricity. Now I was meant to understand the internet. Moments like this showed how out of time I was.

“Nobody nowadays possesses the skills to operate a lighthouse. Not an oil-based one,” Lyra said, seemingly aware of my disconnection.

“How are they operated currently?”

“They’re automated. Run by computers and electricity. Impersonal and unattractive. Your knowledge would be invaluable in today’s day and age because nobody understands how to fix these now.”

“Lyra, it is kind of you, but it is clear the world moved on, and I was out of the loop. I am obsolete,” I replied. It hurt; I missed out on so much. And even though I was a ghost and had a lengthy existence, there was a considerable amount I was unaware of.

“You’re mistaken; I actually meant what I said. Society became focused on computers and technology. But plumbers and electricians, carpenters and builders, are demanding higher wages because people haven’t gone into those professions. You can repair a laptop, great, but who’s going to mend a leaky pipe? We are only just beginning to realise that there is a shortage of skilled, hands-on professionals.”

“But doesn’t technology help?” I asked, puzzled.

“Yes. It does; it makes life so much easier. But there are like one hundred who can fix a laptop and just a single plumber. The intellectual jobs everyone focuses on are consequently biting people in the butt.”

“Ah, I understand,” I said, and I did. “Anyway, go back downstairs, and I shall clear this mess away. Please find this email for a glassmaker.”

Lyra smiled and left. I went to the storeroom and pulled out a spare chimney. There were three left after this one. Thankfully, the Jaspers had believed in keeping stocks high. But I also needed this kerosene; maybe Lyra could order both.

Chapter Twelve.

William

“How do you move the barrels up the stairs?” Lyra asked, sitting down on a beanbag. What a ridiculous name. Beanbag, bah. I perched on the sofa somewhat stiffly. It appeared wrong that Lyra lazed on that while I sat here, but she seemed quite comfortable.

“There’s a pulley system,” I replied.

“A what?” Lyra demanded, sitting up.

“Did you not notice that the window in the stockroom is bigger?” I asked.