eight—every time she showered; many days it was the only time she thought of them. What did that say about her? About the limits of memory, the threshold for the tolerance of pain?
Seeing they had the showers to themselves, Ana ran naked into the mist. Would she break into song? Josie got up and Paul followed, they hung their cheap rough towels on rough hooks and the three of them formed a tight circle, facing one another, the warm water falling between them. Ana looked between Paul’s legs and said “Hello penis.” It was not the first time she’d greeted Paul’s machinery. He’d gotten used to it, and took some pride in being the only member of the household so equipped. Josie soaped their bodies and shampooed their hair, Ana making underwater sounds and stamping her feet. We gravitate toward comfort, Josie thought, but it must be rationed. Give us one-third comfort and two-thirds chaos—that is balance.
—
Their hair wet and bodies clean, they stepped out of the hygiene cabin and into the dappled sunlight and Josie felt they were in the right place. The last few days, their many trials, were only adjustments. Now she knew what she was doing. She had the hang of it and all was possible. They rested awhile in the Chateau, during which time Paul brought Josie a card, dictated by Ana and written by Paul, which said “I love you Mom. I am a robot.”
That settled, they walked back into town.
“Mom?” Paul said. “Was that show good?”
“The magic show? Yeah,” she said. “Did you think so?”
He nodded, utterly unsure.
Where the town met the onslaught of the rough black bay, there was a monument to Seward with a long accounting of why the town had been named after Lincoln’s trusted advisor. Josie tried to explain it all to her children but they needed context.
“Okay, who freed the slaves?” she finally asked. Paul knew the answer, so Josie raised her finger to allow a moment for Ana to try.
Ana thought about it for some time, and then a light entered her eyes. “Was it Dad?”
Josie laughed, snorting, and Paul rolled his eyes.
Ana knew she had said something funny, so continued saying it.
“Dad freed the slaves! Dad freed the slaves!”
Near the monument there was a rocky beach decorated with wild debris and driftwood. They walked amid great rough-hewn beams, big as truck axles and thrown ashore like pencils. Paul picked up a steering wheel and Ana found the remains of a buoy, smashed into the shape of a child’s torso. Josie sat on a round rock and felt the salt air rush at her. Happiness swelled inside her with equal force, and she wanted to stay there all day, all night, wanted to live in that moment for as long as was allowed. She was right when she thought, every hour, that children, or at least her children, needed to be outside, amid rough things, and all she needed, beyond feeding them, was to sit on rounded rocks watching them lift things and occasionally throw them back to the sea. The sand was damp, a deep brown dusted by lighter clouds of dry sand. Soon Paul and Ana sat on either side of her.
“What’s that smell?” Paul asked, though Josie smelled nothing.
“It’s really bad,” he said, and then Josie saw something. There was a large stone in front of them, the size of a shoe, and it looked like it had recently been dislodged and replaced. Josie lifted it and the smell flew upward and filled the air. She replaced the stone but had seen, in a glance, a terrible thing. It was feces, and there might have been some sort of diaper there, too. She thought about it, examining the memory of what she’d seen. No, that wasn’t it. The answer came to her: it was a maxi pad. It was a maxi pad covered in caramel-colored feces. “Let’s move,” she said, and hustled Paul and Ana up from the beach, past the monument to the great man, and through town.
There could be no doubt that humans were the planet’s most loathsome creatures. No other animal could have done something so
Seeing they had the showers to themselves, Ana ran naked into the mist. Would she break into song? Josie got up and Paul followed, they hung their cheap rough towels on rough hooks and the three of them formed a tight circle, facing one another, the warm water falling between them. Ana looked between Paul’s legs and said “Hello penis.” It was not the first time she’d greeted Paul’s machinery. He’d gotten used to it, and took some pride in being the only member of the household so equipped. Josie soaped their bodies and shampooed their hair, Ana making underwater sounds and stamping her feet. We gravitate toward comfort, Josie thought, but it must be rationed. Give us one-third comfort and two-thirds chaos—that is balance.
—
Their hair wet and bodies clean, they stepped out of the hygiene cabin and into the dappled sunlight and Josie felt they were in the right place. The last few days, their many trials, were only adjustments. Now she knew what she was doing. She had the hang of it and all was possible. They rested awhile in the Chateau, during which time Paul brought Josie a card, dictated by Ana and written by Paul, which said “I love you Mom. I am a robot.”
That settled, they walked back into town.
“Mom?” Paul said. “Was that show good?”
“The magic show? Yeah,” she said. “Did you think so?”
He nodded, utterly unsure.
Where the town met the onslaught of the rough black bay, there was a monument to Seward with a long accounting of why the town had been named after Lincoln’s trusted advisor. Josie tried to explain it all to her children but they needed context.
“Okay, who freed the slaves?” she finally asked. Paul knew the answer, so Josie raised her finger to allow a moment for Ana to try.
Ana thought about it for some time, and then a light entered her eyes. “Was it Dad?”
Josie laughed, snorting, and Paul rolled his eyes.
Ana knew she had said something funny, so continued saying it.
“Dad freed the slaves! Dad freed the slaves!”
Near the monument there was a rocky beach decorated with wild debris and driftwood. They walked amid great rough-hewn beams, big as truck axles and thrown ashore like pencils. Paul picked up a steering wheel and Ana found the remains of a buoy, smashed into the shape of a child’s torso. Josie sat on a round rock and felt the salt air rush at her. Happiness swelled inside her with equal force, and she wanted to stay there all day, all night, wanted to live in that moment for as long as was allowed. She was right when she thought, every hour, that children, or at least her children, needed to be outside, amid rough things, and all she needed, beyond feeding them, was to sit on rounded rocks watching them lift things and occasionally throw them back to the sea. The sand was damp, a deep brown dusted by lighter clouds of dry sand. Soon Paul and Ana sat on either side of her.
“What’s that smell?” Paul asked, though Josie smelled nothing.
“It’s really bad,” he said, and then Josie saw something. There was a large stone in front of them, the size of a shoe, and it looked like it had recently been dislodged and replaced. Josie lifted it and the smell flew upward and filled the air. She replaced the stone but had seen, in a glance, a terrible thing. It was feces, and there might have been some sort of diaper there, too. She thought about it, examining the memory of what she’d seen. No, that wasn’t it. The answer came to her: it was a maxi pad. It was a maxi pad covered in caramel-colored feces. “Let’s move,” she said, and hustled Paul and Ana up from the beach, past the monument to the great man, and through town.
There could be no doubt that humans were the planet’s most loathsome creatures. No other animal could have done something so
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