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As Raymond had suspected, several plots of land near them had been highlighted as possible additional build sites. Most of that land was still owned by local farmers.

The Mayor finished his sales pitch and seceded the floor to one of the suits. It was someone Will recognized, the weaselly-looking man that had come into the store, the one Becky had IDed.

Fred Walter identified himself at the mic as the Chief Financial Officer of XOM Incorporated. He then started in on a sales pitch about their development conglomerate, and what success they’d had recently in Orlando on a similar project.

Unlike Smithson, Mr. Walter didn’t even attempt to make it sound altruistic for the citizens. He started spewing numbers about sector growth and land valuation and real estate assets. He made it sound like these were things that people should care about, if they weren’t stupid and backwoods and caught up in farming turnups.

He didn’t say it like that, but everyone still heard the subtext. The murmuring of the crowd grew louder. Raymond called him an all hat and no cattle bastard under his breath, shifting irritatingly in his seat.

Mr. Walter went on, buzzwords stuffed into every sentence.

Finally, a man from the front of the room interrupted. He was balding, wearing a plaid shirt and well-worn jeans. “Where’s the man from the DEP?”

Mr. Walter smiled, a bit too wide and rigid. “Mayor Smithson talked to the representative for the Department of Environmental Protections earlier, and reassured him that everything we’re doing here is above board. I assure you that all necessary paperwork has been filed with the state for use of the land, everything is very legal.”

There was a very loud, bullshit from the back.

Another man stood. “And what of the polluted water on either side of Mercale Street that’s killin’ the crops?”

The sound from the crowd swelled, more voices raising to agree.

The Mayor stepped back up to the mic.

“I’ve heard these rumors,” Smithson said genially, “but I’ve looked into it myself, and there’s nothing to indicate that any pollutants have leaked into the ground or water supply. If there is local crop damage, perhaps it’s a fertilizer or pest issue.”

He smiled in the way of a man who’d taken money to rehearse that answer.

Someone swore from the back.

“Listen,” Smithson said, raising a pacifying hand at the crowd, “I understand many of your concerns, and your protests have been noted. But these plans were approved well over two years ago by both representatives on the city board, and a ballot measure that everyone here voted on.”

Will tried to think back on that, but had no memory of a ballot measure.

“Five Springs needs new infrastructure,” Smithson continued. “We need new growth opportunities. Being able to bring business and jobs to our small city is important. Progress doesn’t stop, and we owe it to our children to make Five Springs the best it can be.”

“Who really benefits from these new jobs?” This shout came from an older woman with thick wrinkles on her face. Will thought her name might be Margaret, and she worked at the feed store on Cobalt Street. “I saw your cousin Frankie already got hired as CFO for the Springs Mall project.”

Smithson’s face froze, like he was recalibrating. Then he smiled. “I assure you that anyone hired to help on these projects has the proper qualifications. Jobs are being posted in the Five Springs Gazette, and anyone is welcome to apply.”

More people rose to their feet, including the row in front of them. Raymond stood, and Will was quick to follow.

“You take money from this corporate shill, strip us of our livelihood, and expect us to go quietly?”

“–fuckin’ poisoned the land for this shit? You really think–”

“–lied on the ballot measure!”

“–can’t just cut down protected trees–!”

The Mayor held his hands up, and spoke with a booming tone over the shouting. “Easy folks! Easy! This is supposed to be a peaceful discussion forum, not a witch hunt. If you have genuine questions about the construction, I am here for you and will answer those, but I will not subject myself and the folks here looking to put money into our community to speculation and name-calling. These are good, hard-working men that are taking a chance on our community–”

“–they’re slicker than owl’s shit–”

“We didn’t fucking vote for this!”

Then, suddenly, beside him Raymond was pulling something out of his pocket. Will saw it just a moment before he launched it at the stage.

“You lying bastards!” He shouted as he let it go.