5

The first night

“To be honest, it was Catherine’s idea,” said Harold, pulling the straps of his backpack higher up onto his shoulders. “She called me on her lunch break all sad about how you were leaving and we might never see you again.”

Jon laughed.

“I’m not dying!”

“You looked so lonely when I saw you this morning,” said Catherine. “I decided I wanted to surprise you.”

“She had me running around like a crazy person after work,” said Harold, “buying food and tents and sleeping bags. We barely made it in time for the last Jar of the night.”

“I have to say, Catherine, this isn’t very Co-like of you.”

“Something must be wrong with me. Maybe I’ve been in Mo too long. It’s making me sentimental.”

“I think it’s a good thing.”

Jon grinned.

“Well, I don’t. Anyway, where are we camping?”

Observing the growing darkness of the beach, Jon pointed to a nearby patch of dry sand.

“Looks like the tide doesn’t come up that far. How about we set up camp there?”

Jon was eager to begin cooking for Catherine and Harold, who had truly given him a pleasant surprise, and he wanted them to enjoy themselves. He had, in fact, been lonely that morning during the start of his journey, as recorded in his journal that night before sleeping.

“How do you know the tide won’t come up this far?” asked Catherine, dropping her bag onto the sand.

“Jon’s right,” said Harold. He did not often have the chance of showing off his geography skills, and being a man of Ii, hated neglecting any opportunity of doing so. “See how the beach slopes down over there? It’s pushed up like that as the tide rises, so it won’t come over that slope unless there’s extreme weather.”

“Well, if you’re both sure… But what if it comes up before we notice it?”

“It won’t,” said Harold. “I checked the weather. The tide’s going down anyway.”

They continued to discuss every possible way that something might go wrong as Jon began constructing his tent.

“It’ll be dark soon,” he said. “You should set up now, too. Did you pack any lights?”

“We didn’t bring any,” said Catherine.

“What she means,” said Harold, “is Catherine didn’t bring the only thing I asked her to, because the lights were too expensive.”

“It’s not very practical to buy an over-priced camping light that you’ll only use one time, especially since we know that Jon took lights with him anyway.”

“So what did you bring?” asked Jon.

“Food,” said Harold. “Lots and lots of food.”

He opened a cooling bag to show meats, vegetables, fruits... Jon’s stomach groaned.

“Let’s get cooking!”

After the tents were set up, Jon started the fire stone, which sustained its flame and illuminated the area. Then he placed his electric grill on the sand and unfolded the chairs which everyone had brought for themselves. First he cooked the beef, sliced thinned so that it cooked fast, and with a small brush he spread a layer of honey over it before sprinkling it with salt.

Once they had grilled most of the beef, they moved on to the vegetables: cucumbers, tomatoes, mushrooms, peppers, and finally the icy-sweet fruit.

“Oh, there’s nothing to drink,” said Harold.

“I’ll make water.”

Jon took a steel-bodied purifier down to the ocean and filled it with seawater.

(This device transfers out the salt in the following way. After pouring saltwater into a bottom compartment, the water is boiled so that it evaporates into the top compartment, leaving the salt behind. It could also work in reverse to clean other forms of undrinkable water, compressing it from the top into the bottom through a hole too small for larger molecules to pass through. Simple though it may be, this invention has saved thousands of lives.)

“I never thought I’d need to use one of those purifier things,” said Catherine, taking a sip.

“Convenient, isn’t it?” Jon tapped his poly-carbon mug against hers and drank.

While they ate, they discussed Jon’s itinerary for the next several days.

“First stop on your list, after the temple tomorrow, will be the village of Yep, in the province of Co,” said Harold, crunching on a salty grilled cucumber. “You’ll probably have to spend one night camping before you get there.”

“Your geography is pretty good,” said Jon.

“He’s got his Eye in,” said Catherine.

Harold blushed.

“Yes, but I don’t need it to know that much…”

“Don’t you want to take your Eyes out tonight?” asked Jon.

“I suppose we don’t have any reason to wear them,” said Catherine. “Just a habit, I guess. I was enjoying the constellation map up there, but the advertisement on those rocks is annoying.”

“Advertisement?”

Jon looked around even though he knew that it was invisible without his Eye in.

“Funny, how they always find you,” said Harold.

“It’s over there, on that rock.” Catherine pointed. “There’s a ramen box with arms and legs, dancing around and waving a flag that says ‘BestBowl’ on it.”

“You know what,” said Harold, “I actually thought about buying a 'BestBowl' ramen for lunch today. In the shop I picked it up and was staring at it for a minute, trying to decide if I wanted it or not, but I put it back.”

Jon dropped some more cooked beef into everybody’s bowls, saying, “The dancing ramen monster’s come to find you and make you regret your decision.”

After carefully placing her Eye into a travel case, Catherine looked up and down the beach.

“This place feels so different with my Eye out.”

Harold pointed at Jon’s feet.

“I didn’t even notice your shoes were off.”

Jon grinned and raised his feet in the air, wiggling his toes.

“See what marvelous sights you’re being deprived of by technology?”

“But aren’t you worried about getting sand in your tent?” asked Catherine.

“It rubs off easily as long as your feet are dry. But I’m kind of thinking about putting my feet in the ocean.”

“The ocean is so dark right now, though.”

“We don’t have to go past our ankles.”

“Well, okay…”

Leaving behind their socks and shoes, they walked across the beach toward the shining wet sand, and the waves surprised them as they approached, splashing coldly over their feet.

“Cold! Cold! Cold!” yelled Harold as he leaped away.

Catherine walked in confidently, pulling up her loose capris so that the water reached her knees.

“Oh, it’s fine!”

Jon admitted the water did feel cold. Catherine was much tougher than either of them, as expected from a Co native. Jon and Harold jogged in and out of the waves until they acclimated.

“Not so bad once you get used to it,” said Jon.

Harold was rubbing his arms.

“Speak for yourself.”

Catherine touched his hand after seeing how pale it looked.

“Your hands are like ice!”

“My hands are always cold. I have poor circulation.”

“You should do more exercise.”

“I exercise.”

“Don’t lie. You sit at your desk all day, then go home and sit more.”

“Let me exercise my legs by getting out of the water, then. You two take your time.”

Harold splashed out of the ocean, but they all ended up walking back to the fire not long afterward.

“It’s colder than I thought it would be,” said Jon.

“The air feels so warm after you take your feet out, though,” said Catherine. “Almost makes the uncomfortable part worth it.”

Harold sat by the fire and held out his hands and feet toward the purple-red flame. Jon cooked for another hour, then sat around the fire with his friends chatting until he began to feel sleepy. Before going into his tent, he used a sock to rub off the dried sand, then shook the sock out. Catherine and Harold followed his example.

At last they extinguished the fire, inflated the air mattresses with a push of a button, turned off the lights, and fell asleep with as little trouble as they had ever had in their lives, waking up for only moments here and there and listening dreamily to the foaming waves, which sent them back to sleep.

In the morning, Jon woke first. He peered out of the tent and saw the sunshine brightening and spreading across the horizon like a diamond bracelet.

While his friends slept, he cooked more beef for breakfast and almost ran out of stock. His meals would be lighter until reaching Yep tomorrow and shopping there. The smell of food lured Catherine and Harold outside, where they ate sleepily.

“So this is going to be your life from now on,” said Catherine, wrapped up in a blanket.

“More or less,” said Jon, “but a different place every night.”

Harold rubbed his hands. “My fingers are cold again,” he said. Catherine took his hands, squeezing them in hers, and Harold blushed.

After breakfast they packed up and walked to the Jar access point, which had already started operating. At nine o’clock, the glassy Jar compartment came to a rest in front of them. Catherine and Harold got on, saying goodbye and looking sadly at Jon through the window as the Jar began to move. Then they were gone.