Authors: Brenda Cooper
She treaded water, her right leg working harder than her left, watching the three whales. She picked out Kiley as much from the shape of the bundles attached to his harness as from anything else.
She watched him, willing him to come to her.
The whales milled. The smallest one started to break up and away, toward the surface, but Kiley called out to it, a short sweet sound that turned the beast back down. He circled her, keeping his distance.
She squeezed the ball. “Jerzy. What do I do?” Her voice shook.
“I can’t help you. He doesn’t like me.”
Kitha groaned. What would she want? Heck, what did that matter? She didn’t think like a whale. She was a kelp-farmer. The lowest of the low, except maybe the janitors. “Jerzy, do they like you to come to them?”
“Trust yourself.”
Okay. She’d stay put. Show respect.
Kiley circled her again, a little closer, then he turned away, his great tail undulating through the water, lit from the underside by the city’s own interior brightness.
Had she failed? She held her breath, willing him to turn and come back.
The other two whales began to follow him.
She pressed the
come
button, surrounding herself with sound. And turned it off. She remembered the last time.
The three whales turned in unison, as if responding to some unspoken command. A water ballet of big blue creatures. Kitha drew in a breath at the sheer beauty of their coordination. Kiley flicked his tail and moved to the front, swimming so closely by her that she saw the barnacles lining his mouth. She transferred the ball to her left hand, flicked her own tail—her fins—pain shooting up her right thigh. Kitha grabbed a handle on the harness with her right hand. Kiley pulled her gently along. “Tell him thank you,” she said.
Sound belled out from her hand, a long gentle noise, softer by far than the
come
signal.
She looked down. Jai was attaching something to the big girder down below. He’d found a line.
“Ask Kiley to swim over clear ground.” She tucked the translator into her pocket, and then twisted to look at the nets. The latches that held the cargo nets in place were easy to see. She waited while the great whale swam a few meters past the dome, then lifted the latches, scrunching close against the whale’s body as the nets fell free, tumbling to the ground, bouncing once, twice, and then resting. She should have had Kiley go slower and lower. Hell, she was learning. Now that he was free of the nets, she slid up on Kiley’s back. She laughed, suddenly deliriously happy. She, Kitha, rode a whale! She must have bumped it, because the translator seemed to laugh with her for a moment. Kiley sped up, taking her up and around the dome, fast, a big circle. She freed a hand and grabbed the translator. “We have to wait,” she said. “Ask him to go down.”
Sound. And instant compliance. Kiley liked her. She wanted to lean down and pet him, but one hand held the translator and the other held fast to the harness. She leaned down and kissed him.
If she was specific, the whale did what she asked. She got Kiley positioned so Jai could tie the free end of the rope to the harness, and then turned the whale. She had to be sure she didn’t damage the lungs or the dome.
Or the whale?
Kiley seemed to understand. He bunched under her, gathering himself, and then he whipped his tail up and down so powerfully that the backlash in the water pushed Jai away. The metal bar rose easily, upending and landing with a puff on empty seafloor.
The lungs lay still and quiet. “Are they broken?” Kitha asked Jai.
Jerzy answered. “You were magnificent. And no. They’ll come on all by themselves. At least the two that aren’t torn. They’ll need to finish running diagnostics.”
“All right. What’s the smallest whale’s name?”
“Penelope.”
Kitha stripped Penelope and then Lisa of their cargo, being more careful to drop it carefully. The whales immediately took off, swimming in unison again, their great tails moving up and down to the same beat. Kitha thought she might never have seen anything more beautiful.
Jai swam up next to her and took her hand, waiting with her until the whales had disappeared from sight.
Behind them, the city drew a deep breath.
She squeezed Jai’s hand and headed toward the dome. Locks were already disgorging people and machinery to finish what she and Jai had started.
Just inside the lock, Jonathon waited beside a tall smiling red-haired woman who must be Jerzy. He raced into her arms, warm and wriggly. “I’m so proud of you, Mommy!”
A tear dripped down her cheek as she held her son close.
STAR of HUMANITY
A gust of wind jerked
the hood of Tanya Paul’s sweatshirt off of her blond hair. She glanced up at the dark clouds above her and then back down at the dirty sidewalk. Maybe she should find shelter. She had come to downtown Kirkland to meet her classmate, Jennie, only to receive a text cancelling the meeting just after she coasted into a parking place. Her homework had to be done whether she had someone to study with or not. Bad enough that one in five new students with teaching degrees had a chance in hell at actually teaching. Which she was going to figure out how to do. Somehow.
Sheets of rain fell from clouds halfway across the lake, the wind driving the whole mess her way. She pulled off one cheap purple glove with her teeth so she could swipe at her phone and look for deals. She touched the button for food, and offerings filled the screen.
Greek. Italian. Three Mexican choices. Maybe one of them had a bar she could sit in and spread out. A coffee place with food would be better. There. Gusto Beans and Bakery. Two blocks ahead of her on the right. A yellow coupon bubble sprang to life. Free specialty coffee with dinner. She popped the menu open. They had her favorite drink (Half-caf soy latte with real caramel drizzle) and a list of sandwiches. Okay. Whatever they offered for food would do. Damn Jennie anyway for abandoning her.
She made it inside the doorway just as raindrops started pinging on the metal overhang. It was largely empty, which explained the coupon. There was even an open table near a cheerful little fireplace. She headed straight for it, shrugged her backpack off, and sat down with a sigh. The barista looked up and smiled but hurried into the back on a mission. Tanya still had her phone in hand, so she decided to pick a sandwich. The menu was still on the screen. Ham and cheese on focaccia. Butternut squash and asparagus on an open-faced bun.
Four choices down, there was a short url embedded in the name of the sandwich. She glanced around but didn’t see anyone who looked like they were hacking the wireless. Just an old guy reading and three women passing a tablet around and exclaiming over baby pictures. Another ad? Well, her security algorithms were up to date. She double-tapped to open it, and a window with a blue border filled her screen. Inside the window, a crisp short paragraph of text read, “Job offer. Your teaching credential can lead to adventure. Watch for information about the Star of Humanity.”
She flipped the phone closed before any more of the message could show up. This was hacker stuff, not something she could trust. She got up to order from the human at the bar.
*
Susan Little put her arm around Mr. Lim’s stooped shoulders and let him cry. He felt thin and sad, and it was all Susan could do not to cry herself. It was always like this for her—she hated the tears and the loss because it affected her so much more than she thought it should. She had to work really hard to keep her game face on and stay professional long enough for Dr. Richards to show up and tell Mr. Lim, “You can return for the ashes day-after-tomorrow,” Dr. Richards told Mr. Lim. “Max is past all of his pain. It will be okay.”
Mr. Lim looked up at the vet and nodded, then patted Susan’s hand. “Thank you,” he said.
“You’re welcome.” There really wasn’t anything else to say. Susan stepped aside to let him shuffle out the door and over to the counter to pay. She shut the door behind him and walked into the back where Dr. Richards kept cats and dogs that had been left for observation or fluids or to recover from minor surgeries. Only one of the kennels had a dog in it, Blue, a big mastiff who was so far gone in drug-induced sleep he snored like an old woman. Half the cat cages were full, but only one was awake and unhappy; a little calico who was pacing with as much dignity as she could muster in a small crate.
Susan grabbed a Kleenex and wiped at the single tear sliding down her face.
Dr. Richards came up behind her. “It gets easier. Really. We have four more left today; a cat with a cold, a six-month check-up for Ms. Colson’s puppy, and two rounds of shots. Those should be easy enough.”
Susan nodded. The woman was all business, all the time.
“The cat’s already in exam room 2,” the doctor said, heading off in a very business-like fashion. Given that this was her last day in the clinic, Susan needed to leave a good impression. Dr. Richard’s evaluation and a final paper was all that stood between her and her vet degree.
Just then, the receptionist called out, “Dog on the way in. Got into a Prickly Pear after a rabbit.”
Great. An hour of pulling thorns out, or two if the animal was scared enough. “I’ll be right there!” Susan called and pulled out her phone to text a friend that she’d be late to a visit. There was a text waiting for her. “The Star of Humanity is looking for a few good vets. Watch for more information.” A recruiter. Well, she already had two interviews lined up; she could follow through on this later. She closed the message and started to tap out the one she needed to send.
*
A week later, Tanya walked across a stage and picked up her degree and the promise of her teaching certificate. A few school classmates cheered for her, but afterwards all she could really do was go home to her small apartment and her cat, Tom. Tom was no such thing; she’d fixed him right after she got him from the shelter, but it was the name he came with and she hadn’t thought of a better one. “I’m done,” she told him as she stroked his gold and white fur. He arched his back under her hand and stood patiently. “I can be a real teacher now,” she told him.
Telling a cat about it didn’t really do anything for her mood, which was wistful at best. When her dad was alive, he’d always told her to just keep her mind busy. She gave Tom another scratch and grabbed her tablet. It opened to a bookstore site, displaying history books and kids reading material. “No,” she told it. “Biology.” She was free of studying, and she’d continue her job search seriously tomorrow. The least she could give herself for graduating was a good book to read.
The list was way too big, of course.
“Climate. Northwest.”
That got it down to twenty. She started scrolling. There:
CLIMATE EFFECTS ON GRAPES IN THE NORTHWEST. At least the computer remembered she liked wine. She double-tapped and a blue-lined window opened inside of her other windows. She blinked at it, a vague memory of a job-troll tickling her memory. Irritated, she tapped the right corner to close the window. It didn’t budge. “Congratulations on your degree, Tanya. Are you interested in adventure? Your first clue will appear in three days.—Star of Humanity.”
Damn adware blocker must need an update. Come to think of it, only in-app ads should be able to get through, like ads for books or stuff related to her search. As she stared at it, the window faded, the right background and the book on the challenges with wine appearing where it should have been in the first place.
The damned net always knew everything, like that she’d graduated and didn’t have a job.
She abandoned the idea of a book and searched for Star of Humanity. Something about a diamond and something about truthful living from the Sikhs. Neither made any contextual sense. She snapped the computer closed, irritated that it knew what she wished it didn’t, but couldn’t find anything about a topic she did want to know. What was Star of Humanity, anyway?
*
Dr. Richards had given Susan a more glowing write-up than she expected. She’d updated her posted resume, which had yielded three online interviews that had turned into two offers, both of which required that she leave Arizona, one for the Midwest and one for Alaska. Farm animals, or sled dogs and sleet. At least the next interview would be for an in-city clinic. She’d have to deal with euthanasia, which she hated, but there would be a lot of very normal vet work.
The interview went well, with two vets and a vet tech on the other side, everyone calling in from home. Susan wore a good sweater and her gold earrings over her shorts, and stayed seated so as not to give away the shorts. East coast. She could handle that better than delivering cows or freezing, although she really wanted a job in Arizona. Just as she closed the video window, a new window appeared under it. She hadn’t touched anything.
“Hello, Susan. We need vets that want to work in a challenging environment on all classes of animals. Please consider meeting with our senior staff in two days. We will send you an address. —Star of Humanity.”
There was no place to respond, no box to type in, no phone number to call. A prank? A mystery?
She ditched the sweater in favor of a tank top and headed out to a good-bye lunch with two people from her graduating class. One was leaving for Florida the next day, and the other for New York.
After the greetings and the details of the two moves and Susan’s job offers made it onto the table, Susan leaned forward over her Mandarin chicken salad and asked, “Have either of you heard of the Star of Humanity?”
Both of her friends shook their heads.
When she got home, Susan called her advisor from college and asked the same question. After she got the same answer, she frowned and went out to meet another friend who already had a job, hoping a Mojito would help her get up the courage to turn down the two offers she already had.
*
Tanya found herself watching for another blue-lined window.
None appeared.
Three days later, no jobs or interviews had appeared either. Not even free internships. After four hours of staring at screens and re-formatting her cover letter three times for different applications, she got up and headed out into the gray Seattle mist for coffee.
Her favorite coffee house in walking distance was Café Pilot, a cheerful building with brown seats, yellow walls, paper airplanes hanging from the ceiling, and a rotating art display on the walls. At the moment, the art was quilted postcards with messages from the past on them. Sam, her favorite barista, looked up and nodded, ready to start her usual drink.
She shook her head, her pockets feeling thin. “Just an Americano.”
“Room?”
“Sure.” Cream would give her a few extra calories.
Her usual seat was taken so she slid into the last available empty table by the steam-fogged window. She barely took her first sip when a tall man with glasses (who wore
glasses
any more!) slid into the chair across from her.
“Hi, Tanya.”
She’d be willing to swear she didn’t recognize him. Maybe from one of her classes?
He slid a card across the table. White, lined with blue. Paper. “Star of Humanity. Peter Accord.”
She picked it up. No other words on it, no symbols.
“We would like to interview you,” he said.
“Who are you?”
“Peter.”
“Your card says that. I mean the Star of Humanity. I can’t find it.”
He took a sip of his cappuccino and nodded at her. He looked pleased.
“Is it a new school?” she asked. “Maybe a startup?”
Now he smiled all-out. His teeth were the white of the well-insured in spite of his dorky glasses, which looked badly extruded from a home printer. His clothes were pretty top-notch, too. Her jeans and T-shirt were fairly new, but they hadn’t cost a year’s salary. She swallowed and waited for his smile to run out. When it did, he confirmed what she had been thinking. “It’s a private school.”
“Someplace for rich kids?”
Now he shook his head. “Not all. Look, I can’t tell you very much, but I’d like to ask you a few questions. Is that okay?”
She didn’t like this, but Peter didn’t feel mean or particularly odd, and after all, what could happen in the Café Pilot? “Sure.” She prepared herself for the first question, which would be something like,
Tell me what you want to do
.
“What would you think of teaching children of mixed ages?”
Wow. Something far more specific. “As long as it’s a class size I can handle. I’d need fewer kids at once to teach multiple grades. It’s important to me to teach. Really. Not adults, but kids. My mother was a teacher, and I want to be one, too. I remember how much she loved her job.” What else? “In mixed-age classrooms, the older kids can help the younger ones.”
“How important is it that your job is near here?”
Anyplace sunny would be nice. “Not nearly as important as finding a job I like.”
He steepled his hands in front of him and paused a moment before asking the next question. “You don’t own your house and your parents are dead.”
She tensed at that. Available on the web, but it meant they’d had to dig.
He continued after giving her a moment to adjust. “Do you have any other impediments to moving?”
“Just Tom.”
“Your cat could come with you.”
“Then I don’t mind moving.”
“What about travel? You state that you want to travel. Do you really?”
“Yes.” She didn’t talk about travel anywhere on her resume, and really only about travel books on her social networks, which she didn’t expose casually. “Do I get a turn to ask questions?”
“In a bit. We’ll be in touch.”
With that, with four lousy questions, he stood up and held a hand out to her. “Nice to meet you, Tanya. Good luck.”
“Nice to meet you, too.” Her voice sounded small and he was already halfway to the door. When Tanya looked down at the table, the business card was gone, too. Damn. She hadn’t even seen him pick it up.
Apparently she’d managed to flunk out of her first job interview in weeks with just four questions.
*
Susan woke to a message on her phone. This time, it appeared as soon as she opened her phone, as if it had been lying in wait for her. “Good morning, Susan. If you’re free at eleven this morning, please go to Civic Space Park downtown and look for a woman in blue. We would very much like to talk with you.”
Not even a signature this time. Just the blue window, which she already knew signified the Star of Humanity, whatever the hell that was. And of course she was free. No appointments at all today, no more interviews. She’d turned down the wilds and the cold, and there’d been no offer from the east coast. Her bank account was thinning, and yesterday her apartment manager had sent a note reminding her that her student subsidy was running out. Did she want to stay at the full rate?