Cantilever Jones Swings Low, Part 3
“That worries me.”
“Of course it does. We’ll launch in the morning. Thanks for your work on this, Vin.”
“Acknowledge,” he said, and turned away. I stepped down off the ramp onto the quiet tarmac of the spaceport and
looked at the collection of stars. I could always tell when I was tired of being on a planet when I actually paid
attention to the stars in the night sky. Not as a navigational aid or means of observing my position in the galaxy, just
as an experience. When you’re in space, you know the stars are all too far away from each other to matter. They’re
just points in 3D space, having no reality but as beacons to find planets. But spend a few days on a planet, and you
start seeing what our antediluvian ancestors saw: a holistic heaven, a transcendence.
I’m standing there, absorbing this, pondering what it reveals about my consciousness, when I’m suddenly very
aware of a presence to my left. It’s there, but I don’t think it’s hostile, and Norl doesn’t pick anything up either. So I
just glance off to my left, and there he is, standing silent as the grave. My friend, Gaflus.
“Evening,” I said.
“And you,” he replied, which was a normal polite greeting on Senel-4.
“Well, we’ll be heading out tomorrow.”
“Where you goin’?” he asked, as if he knew somehow.
“You asking, or confirming?” I said.
“Confirming, I guess. Polar zone?”
“Yep.”
“Why?”
“Because my clients want to go there. They think they can solve your Demon problem.”
“Why?”
“Not sure. But they believe it. Just as you believe there’s some monstrous beast up there. I don’t know myself… but
you believe it. So I take it seriously.”
“Huh,” he said.
“Yep,” I said.
[“Yep,” I said.]
“I’m no help at all,” I said.