Weissenbaum's Eye - Stetten

Weissenbaum's Eye - Stetten - Chapter 18

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

For an entire day, we followed the clouds to the north, while still the weather remained quiet. The distance from the continent grew behind us. The sun was setting, and I went astern to stop the boat before the night's run. A smoky ring of clouds encircled a rosy glow in the west, where a solitary sea gull raised and lowered its black tipped wings. I turned off the engines and climbed up onto the bow, where Sand was sitting.

"Where are we going?" he asked. "Are we almost there?" His voice trailed off to follow the gull.

"Just another hundred miles," I replied, "a place called the plantation."

"What's the plantation?" he asked.

And so I told him of the place we built for the whales, one of those meaningless dreams beyond a practical world. We were to be their educators. The whales were nomads, just as we had been, before the first rock strewn garden. We foresaw their following us into a civilized way of life, tending the fields we spread over the ocean, huge plastic circles to catch the rain. Rich growing algae weighed them down, harvested from below by tubes attached to nipples, which the whales could work. Never again would they be forced to search the oceans for their food.

Sand wanted to know more, but I stopped short of the conclusion. The whales had given up on us and left the plantation to return to their old ways. They must have thought us rather silly, with our plans and gadgets.

I climbed back to the helm. The engines brought the wind and noise again. As darkness fell, the cold fog whistled and wormed its way into my coat, and traced its icy fingers along my neck and down my back. Sand lay by the bulkhead, but I think it was a long time before he slept.

We reached the plantation during the second night. I stopped the boat outside the entrance buoy, rather than attempting to navigate the channel in the dark. By morning the fog had lifted.

Sand sat up while I was still asleep. With the blanket tucked around him, he saw the first light of dawn come up across the fields just a hundred yards to starboard.

Once I was up, we motored in along the channel for the better part of an hour. A snowy fog came in from the ocean, thickening into frozen mist that blew across our bow and hid our wake. It was so bright that it hurt my eyes, and so cold that my gloves stuck to the wheel.

Just as the blizzard set in, I saw the scoop's form crouching above us. Even as we reached the pier, it vanished entirely in the freak storm, and in a few hectic moments, I helped Sand climb onto the rocking float. The passenger's cabin had not yet been loaded onto the wingscoop. It was the standard container that could be transferred to the ferry, once in orbit.

As I had been assured, the cabin door was open. I motioned for Sand to climb in, and he clumsily fastened himself into the seat that was securely bolted to the floor. He looked up at me with trust and humor in his eyes.

"Where am I going?" he asked.

"The far side of the Moon," I replied. My answer didn't seem to disturb him.

"You're not coming?" he asked, sounding genuinely disappointed.

"Not me," I smiled. "But Mara will be joining you, soon. Good luck, Sand."

I closed the door from the outside, and backed away as the loading crane came down to lift the cabin into the wingscoop's hold.

Without waiting, I climbed back into the skiff, pushed off and turned the bow around. When I reached the edge of the plantation, the snow had passed. The day was on to blue skies, and turning back, I saw the scoop swing above its flames into the distant stratosphere.

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