moisture hostage in ice. The grasses were as high as their knees, lush from recent rains. A father and his son were sitting on some large rocks with a tackle-box between them and a big yellow thermos at their feet. Occasionally the father said something to the boy as he held a rod with one hand and a cup of coffee in his other.
“Look at that yacht.” Natalie pointed to a swiftly moving craft near the horizon.
“That's something.” Nathan whistled.
“It's the Italian yacht Destriero. I read about it in the local newspapers. It's built out of light alloy and equipped with three gas turbines that drive water jets. I think it broke the world record for fastest eastbound crossing of the Atlantic Ocean. It can cruise at more than sixty-nine miles per hour.”
“I wouldn't mind owning that one. But it's a little hard on a professor's salary.”
They dug their fingers into the sand, making small puddles. The water was cold and clear. Nathan wiggled his fingers and felt the sand crumble slowly. The day was ending beautifully—a lovely beam of moonlight pushed through the cumulus clouds. The air stirred under a light northerly wind; the sea was calm. They walked some more, as the Destriero disappeared over the horizon. In the distance, Natalie saw a moose calf with its watchful mother. The mother's coat was fluffy and gray. Her hooves were scratching at the thin snow cover and soon she uncovered a meal, perhaps a lemming.
“Do you think we should go so close to the ocean with the sea spider on the loose?” Natalie asked as her feet crunched clam and scallop shells which lined the white beach.
“There's no need to worry. What's the chance that the pycnogonid would pick this time and this beach to make an attack? Near zero, I think.”
Rapidly moving clouds delicately laced with snow soon blocked the moonlight. A cool sea wind whispered through the grasses and sand dunes. Occasionally a few night birds passed overhead or swooped to a nearby jetty.
Nathan wished he could put his arm around Natalie, but was wary of presuming and ruining the moment. She had complimented him, but that was perhaps because of his diffidence. Above, the celestial light fringed the moving waves in a curtain of stars. As they stood together near the gray-green gloom of the sea Nathan couldn't help hearing in his mind the words of his favorite 20th-century poet, John Celestian. “I'd like to carry this moment of time on forever,” he murmured.
She turned to him. “Pardon?”
“Sorry,” he said, embarrassed. “I was remembering a poem.”
She smiled. “Will you quote it for me?”
“Why certainly, if you wish,” he agreed, surprised. He focused his memory, and recited:
"I'd like to carry this moment of time on forever . . .
Hanging on to joys which spring out into misty airs . . .
“That's lovely,” she said.
Shadows sprang up about them as if they were living creatures. Tidewater seeped into their footsteps, and they heard the sounds of water crashing on the nearby jetty. He finally made what seemed like a supreme gamble, and took her hand. She did not withdraw. The silence was broken by nothing louder than thefragile chirps of shorebirds. The only illumination came from the green and red light emitted by the bioluminescent bacteria coating the wet rocks sticking out of the sea. It was if they were standing in an ice and rock cathedral of stained glass.
It reminded him of Christmas.
PART III
Phantom
Loving
The first great step towards progress is for man to cease to be the slave of man; the second to cease to be the slave of the monsters of his own creation — of the ghosts and phantoms.
—R OBERT G. I NGERSOLL,
The Ghosts and Other Lectures
CHAPTER 14
Fish Store
T HE LITTLE CARD on the wall read:
The average person
sheds one-and-a-half
pounds of skin a year.
Martha Samules was fond of such curious facts and had dozens of notecards containing trivia taped to the back wall of her fish store. Another read:
If
“Look at that yacht.” Natalie pointed to a swiftly moving craft near the horizon.
“That's something.” Nathan whistled.
“It's the Italian yacht Destriero. I read about it in the local newspapers. It's built out of light alloy and equipped with three gas turbines that drive water jets. I think it broke the world record for fastest eastbound crossing of the Atlantic Ocean. It can cruise at more than sixty-nine miles per hour.”
“I wouldn't mind owning that one. But it's a little hard on a professor's salary.”
They dug their fingers into the sand, making small puddles. The water was cold and clear. Nathan wiggled his fingers and felt the sand crumble slowly. The day was ending beautifully—a lovely beam of moonlight pushed through the cumulus clouds. The air stirred under a light northerly wind; the sea was calm. They walked some more, as the Destriero disappeared over the horizon. In the distance, Natalie saw a moose calf with its watchful mother. The mother's coat was fluffy and gray. Her hooves were scratching at the thin snow cover and soon she uncovered a meal, perhaps a lemming.
“Do you think we should go so close to the ocean with the sea spider on the loose?” Natalie asked as her feet crunched clam and scallop shells which lined the white beach.
“There's no need to worry. What's the chance that the pycnogonid would pick this time and this beach to make an attack? Near zero, I think.”
Rapidly moving clouds delicately laced with snow soon blocked the moonlight. A cool sea wind whispered through the grasses and sand dunes. Occasionally a few night birds passed overhead or swooped to a nearby jetty.
Nathan wished he could put his arm around Natalie, but was wary of presuming and ruining the moment. She had complimented him, but that was perhaps because of his diffidence. Above, the celestial light fringed the moving waves in a curtain of stars. As they stood together near the gray-green gloom of the sea Nathan couldn't help hearing in his mind the words of his favorite 20th-century poet, John Celestian. “I'd like to carry this moment of time on forever,” he murmured.
She turned to him. “Pardon?”
“Sorry,” he said, embarrassed. “I was remembering a poem.”
She smiled. “Will you quote it for me?”
“Why certainly, if you wish,” he agreed, surprised. He focused his memory, and recited:
"I'd like to carry this moment of time on forever . . .
Hanging on to joys which spring out into misty airs . . .
“That's lovely,” she said.
Shadows sprang up about them as if they were living creatures. Tidewater seeped into their footsteps, and they heard the sounds of water crashing on the nearby jetty. He finally made what seemed like a supreme gamble, and took her hand. She did not withdraw. The silence was broken by nothing louder than thefragile chirps of shorebirds. The only illumination came from the green and red light emitted by the bioluminescent bacteria coating the wet rocks sticking out of the sea. It was if they were standing in an ice and rock cathedral of stained glass.
It reminded him of Christmas.
PART III
Phantom
Loving
The first great step towards progress is for man to cease to be the slave of man; the second to cease to be the slave of the monsters of his own creation — of the ghosts and phantoms.
—R OBERT G. I NGERSOLL,
The Ghosts and Other Lectures
CHAPTER 14
Fish Store
T HE LITTLE CARD on the wall read:
The average person
sheds one-and-a-half
pounds of skin a year.
Martha Samules was fond of such curious facts and had dozens of notecards containing trivia taped to the back wall of her fish store. Another read:
If
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