The Candy Conspiracy

By E. A. West

I checked the numbers again, but they still didn’t add up. Even a mathematically challenged amateur sleuth like me could see the glaring discrepancies. How could candy companies be showing record high profits when the nation was experiencing record low candy sales?

Thanks to a recent government mandate, all forms of sweets were considered a controlled substance and no longer freely available. It had helped with the obesity crisis, but I and many others missed the sugary nuggets that used to be available everywhere you turned.

What I wouldn’t give for a piece of taffy.

“Something’s rotten in Denmark, Gilligan.”

“Mmrrow!” said the large black and white cat lounging in a sunbeam.

“So, how do we figure it out?” I scrutinized the stacks of publicly available information I’d been studying for days. “The answer has to be here. What am I missing?”

Gilligan rose with a ponderous stretch, padded across the room, and jumped onto the kitchen table. Papers scattered everywhere. Before I could scold him, he dropped a paw on a newspaper clipping and shoved it toward me.

Residents Report Sweet Air as Candy Disappears from Shelves, the headline shouted.

“Oh, I forgot about that!”

I dug through my notes until I found the page I was looking for. Soon after the candy ban went into effect, residents of several major cities had started reporting a sweet smell in the air. Not fresh-air sweet. No, they claimed it was cotton candy sweet. The source had yet to be discovered, but the conspiracy theories were abundant online.

I focused on my feline companion, who stared back through big green eyes. “You think this is connected to the mysterious candy company profits?”

The self-satisfied smirk and loud purr were all the answer I needed.

“All right, then. We’re taking a little road trip.”

Gilligan’s ears twitched in annoyance, and I sighed.

“Fine. I’m taking a road trip, and you’re staying here in the comfort of your own home.”

The smirk came back. He jumped off the table and returned to the sunbeam on the floor.

“I should have gotten a dog,” I muttered as I stood.

Gilligan’s glare followed me all the way to the bedroom.

Once I’d packed my bag and made sure my furry overlord had plenty of food and water to sustain him, I went to the front door.

“I’ll be back sometime tomorrow.”

As I’d expected, Gilligan ignored me. I shook my head and left. He might be a genius, but he enjoyed proving I was nothing more than his servant on a regular basis.

The trip to the closest city reporting sweet air gave me plenty of time to ponder what to do when I arrived. By the time I spotted skyscrapers in the distance, I’d decided to drive around with my windows down and see if I could pinpoint where the smell was coming from.

Three hours later, I was out of gas and no closer to an answer.

I found a gas station on the outskirts of town and filled the tank. The cool evening air was so sugary I could almost taste it. A quick scan of the area showed a higher concentration of power lines than I’d seen all afternoon, and I had a crazy idea.

“No, it’s too ridiculous.”

I climbed into my car, ready to call it a day, but the idea wouldn’t let me go. The government had been pushing for renewable energy sources. The candy was going somewhere. It made sense, but at the same time it didn’t. Could it even work?

Still, the idea was worth checking.

I pulled out my phone and did a quick search online. Sure enough, a power plant lay a couple of miles down the road from where I sat. A news article in the results claimed the plant had been experimenting with a renewable energy source in recent months, but officials refused to disclose what that source was.

My suspicion greater than ever, I drove toward the power plant. The air grew progressively sweeter until I was on a sugar high from breathing. A tall chain-link fence topped with concertina wire surrounded the facility, preventing me from getting close to the buildings.

I drove past, parked at the edge of a corn field, and hoofed it back to the power plant. Even though I couldn’t get inside, maybe I could still spot something useful.

As I made my way along the impenetrable barrier, I heard the rumble of a diesel engine. A dump truck approached the gate and soon passed through. What was it hauling? The mystery energy source?

Determined to find out, I raced along the fence until I reached the back of the facility. The dump truck backed up to a large open shed. Inside the shed rested a huge pile that resembled the salt used on icy roads, but this pile was much more colorful. The bed of the truck tilted, and a rainbow cascaded onto the ground.

I grabbed my phone and started recording, thankful for the high quality of the camera. Details appeared on the screen that I hadn’t been able to see without the zoom function, and I could barely contain my excitement.

The truck was dumping a load of candy.

I now had proof that the mysterious sweet air and the high candy profits were connected. Others could take my discovery and figure out the exact method, but I could safely say that somehow power plants were turning candy into electricity.

The plan was ingenious. Improve the health of the population and save the environment at the same time. It was the ultimate win-win situation, save for one major issue. The candy-scented air made me crave taffy more than ever.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Award-winning author E. A. West is a sucker for happy endings. She’s also an animal lover, a yarn crafter, and a research junkie. Tea and chocolate fuel her imagination. She has two dogs who are her constant companions and have helped brainstorm more than one story, which could explain a lot.

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