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Whispering
Whale |
Out to sea the whale, lagging, lumbered on. He reached out to the humans. "They rest in shallow. Minding them 'til morrow."
He hadn't eaten for a very long time, indeed he knew he'd never feed again. The whale closed his eyes and contemplated the sea water streaming past his massive head. "Soon no more the soft, cleansing." The old one mused in a melancholy mood. "Please, to retain memories, liquid love."
As a youth, and with other youth, in a spirit of adventure, he sought the heaviest storms and thrashed through mountainous seas or rolled on the steep watery slopes. The danger real; the storms long; exhaustion a threat.
"What of pretty loves. No heated blood. Gone will be and replaced I'll hear."
The whale recounted the communal bliss of the new life episodes and the many females that had chosen him, and wondered if the new existence would have something comparable. "Pity if not."
His thoughts shifted to the approaching event of his body's death and the end of physical pain. He had experienced the new dimension, heard its music, saw its images, and understood that the lesser of the old dimension would dissipate. Its greater would be the lesser in the new realm. More importantly was the elevated understanding of the "Why," the proximity of perfection, and the augmentation of love.
He envisioned an intensive quest toward the new love, with minds conjuring ideas to explain it and portray it in the new arts and sciences. Most would be wrong, but a few close. More importantly, the venture toward the higher truth would persist and eons will pass with designed reflections and balance. And then, if the "Powers" aspire, another evolvement.
A song boomed from the old one, a song not sung alone. The spirit-mind of the departed whale beings were with him. They conjured the music and provided energy for his physical form. |
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| To the west, aboard the Cristine, Nicole and Justin awoke. Energized by the pleasant night sleep, they chattered continuously while tending to chores. They talked of home, its nearness, and the anticipated joy at arrival. They longed for the comfort of home and the touch of their people of blood and shared events. People longing for them as well. |
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| When the Cristine sailed from Oregon, the overland contingent departed for New Atlantis and would have reached it before the Cristine. Therefore, Justin anticipated a beacon fire by night and a column of smoke by day as a final guidance to their destination. |
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Justin, in the cabin aft, checked the weapons in preparation for the hunt. He held his bow with a tender touch. His companion for years, it served him well. His hand slid over the weapon. "Your arrows know how to find their mark." Justin placed the bow on the bunk.
He turned to his knife. He strapped the blade, sheathed in leather, to his right shin. A flap covered the handle. The steel and bone were Paul's parting gift to his father. The unique blade made the object more of a tool than a weapon. The knife was originally a bayonet, but Paul spent many hours with file and grinding stone reshaping the blade. Its tip had an exaggerated up-sweep with a cutting edge on both sides. With a touch of flexibility, it trimmed close to the bone of fish or mammal.
Paul gave a knife to Nicole as well. It was shorter and stout, strictly a weapon with a straight blade and a deep blood grove. The slender handle fit snugly in Nicole's hand. Paul knew Nicole would always be at his father's side and the gift supplied a measure of protection for herself and his father. |
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