Full Vessels (8 page)

“Whole island's doomed, dip-shit.”

“Erik . . . .”

“I ain't risking my skin for the sake of
giving one of the pathetic creatures a few extra days. So I'm gonna
do what I gotta do. If it makes you feel better, there ain't time
for the usual games. Now while I acquire us a hidey hole, what you
gonna do for the good of the cause?”

“I'll scout some targets.” Hess nodded
towards the tugboat. “After I swim out to do an inventory.”

They separated. Hess jogged towards one of
the public access piers while Erik sauntered in the opposite
direction. At the end of the pier, Hess stowed his shirt and shoes
in an unoccupied rowboat before diving into the water. He dolphin
kicked several times to get some distance before surfacing, then
transitioned into a sidestroke, left side down. He added a scissor
kick and lost himself in the repetitive movement.

His path looped out into the harbor a
considerable distance before turning back in to approach the
steamship from an angle that concealed him from the shore. The swim
took close to half an hour. At its end, he climbed the hemp netting
that served as a bumper and rolled over the side to squat on the
deck.

After a quick scan of his surroundings, he
slipped down the stair to the engine room. It was of a simple
single-cylinder design. Hess identified the controls, checked that
everything was properly greased, and moved on to the boiler room.
He snorted at what his inventory revealed. Rolled iron and rivets.
While well maintained, the entire apparatus lacked even the
pretense of efficiency.

He studied the size of the firebox and the
pile of leftover coal. Enough probably remained to bring the ship
up to temperature, but it would never get anywhere without
additional fuel. Hess checked the water level by opening the three
valves. The lowest of them released a stream of water. That was
good. If the water was below the bottom valve, that would indicate
a critically low level of water in the boiler. The middle valve did
nothing when he opened it. The tank needed water added until the
water level rose above the second valve. The third valve was there
to indicate when there was too much water in the system for safe
operation.

The replenishment pump used hand power and
had a length of heavy rubber tubing extending from it. Hess tasted
some of the water still in the pump mechanism. Mingled with the
tang of metal was a blast of salt. Excellent. They wouldn't have to
waste time figuring out how to get fresh water to the ship; they
could just pump straight from the sea. It was the sole advantage
the primitive steam engine design had offered so far.

Back top side, Hess squatted in the door
frame and studied the guard shack at the base of the pier. It held
one guard who sat with his feet up while a second guard stood
nearby. He watched long enough to see them rotate positions. They
each carried a musket and wore a saber at the hip.

Then Hess dove back into the water and swam
back to where he had left his clothes. After dressing, he walked
back up the harbor road to tour the streets of the town, noting
locations with stacked wood as he went. He returned to his room
that evening to sketch out his plans. He intended to hit the
targets first who were least likely to notice their losses. There
were several houses on the outskirts of town that aged their wood
in backyard lean-tos. He should be able to raid those without
causing a stir among the locals.

He had also noticed that the saltpeter
refinery spewed black clouds from corroded iron stacks, which meant
at least one business still had coal to burn. Robbing the refinery
of a bulky raw product might be more trouble than it was worth,
depending on how successful their wood collection was.

Before he worried about any of that, he
needed to figure out how he was going to transport tons of solid
fuel. While the hotel stable rented horses and even coaches, they
didn't have any freight wagons available.

A knock interrupted his thoughts. Hess
cracked open the door on a smiling Erik. “Got us a nice deal on a
vacation home, honey. Just cost us one old recluse. Guy was nice
enough to contribute a house, a barn, and a lot of pre-split wood.
A real sweetheart. Shame someone put an axe in his melon. Anyway,
we're off to a good start.”

Hess opened his door further to allow Erik
in. “Our major unsolved problem is transportation. We need to move
lots of fuel.”

“Chillax, amigo, we scored probably half a
ton of wood already. When we're ready to make our big move, we
steal a wagon and steam out of that harbor. While carefully
avoiding the infamous reef, of course.”

“Half a ton of wood doesn't get us out of the
harbor. I'm estimating we'd need between five and ten tons of coal
to get us to a safe distance. If we substitute wood for coal, that
doubles the fuel requirements.”

“What's with the negativity, Hessie? Things
go south, we steal a fucking rowboat. So what if we die of exposure
a few times?”

“And where do you think we'll wash up when
the boat inevitably capsizes? I'm thinking the answer to that is
some place covered with molten lava.”

Erik scowled. “Then we find some wheels. I'll
check the stables.”

“They don't have wagons.”

“Then build a fucking travois! A horse can
carry over two hundred pounds without a problem; lash together a
couple poles and you up that to half a ton. Then on game day we
acquire a freight wagon to move things from our hidey hole to the
ship all speedy like. This ain't rocket science.”

Hess sat straighter. “That could work. Of
course, we'd be leaving ruts in the road to guide the people
directly to our staging area.”

“So what if a few nosy Nellies need stabbing.
I got my saber.”

“Better idea,” Hess said. “We make a sign to
advertise we have wood for sale.”

“Uh, that sounds like a
worse
idea.
We're collecting, not selling.”

“No one will buy at our prices. Even if they
did, we'll make it profitable enough that we could turn around and
purchase an equal amount of coal. Everyone will assume we're
clueless businessmen dragging the same load of wood around town.
When we become a joke, no one will take us serious.”

Erik shrugged. “Whatever. Just keep your
fucking nerve. I don't got the patience to manage your
feelings.”

“Can you arrange to rent two horses for
tomorrow afternoon? I'll rig up the hardware. We'll do four trips
each the first day, then I need to identify additional
targets.”

Hess slipped outside and procured poles,
planks, rope, and canvas tarp from the unguarded warehouse of the
general store and made a sign using materials from the conference
room. Then he assembled everything and hid it behind a road-side
hedge. He ate a late dinner, collapsed into bed, and woke early the
next day to plan the order of their robberies.

At nine o'clock, he entered the conference
room to hear Elza's presentation.

Elza spoke with the calm precision that was
her hallmark. “No doubt you expect something profound from me.
Maybe something pretentious or esoteric. I would say that I hate to
disappoint, but in truth I'm not overly concerned with your
opinions.

“For the majority of my existence, I
discharged my duties through intellectual studies. I have a talent
for analysis and I put it to use on every topic of study I
encountered. On occasion, I have even managed to advance beyond
what the people have discovered.

“I always rationalized that while the Creator
almost certainly did not send me into the worlds to practice the
scientific method, my studies were useful in determining the limit
of what the people were capable of learning about the created
universe. Then Jerome revealed our semi-divine natures and I
realized that, far from being an ideal Observer, I was horribly
deficient.

“My most profound insight is not so much
about the worlds as it is about our place in it. We were never
meant to be apathetic watchers. We entered into Our creation to
interact with it. When feeling less charitable, I liken this to
cosmic masturbation. We create, play, destroy, and start the cycle
over again.

“Observer is the wrong title for us. We
should be called
Experiencers
. Because that is our purpose.
To be people for a time. All the times I followed my sense of duty
I failed at my true mission. Conversely, all the times I violated
the divine command were justified.”

Elza drummed her fingers on the table. “And
now I suppose I must criticize the flaws of my own argument or risk
being accused of unfairness. There were no informal logical
fallacies, because I know better. However, I did make
assumptions.

“My most questionable assumption:
generalizing from my mind to that of the Creator's. I skirt the
edges of arguing from personal incredulity, saved by the fact that
there are no viable alternative hypotheses. Some evidence that the
Creator intends us to experience rather than observe exists in the
circumstances of our incarnations. Hess has never been a woman.
Given his strict heterosexual orientation, it becomes obvious that
the Creator intended to humor that preference.

“And Drake. Sometime after Iteration ten, he
became a perpetual outcast in the social order. Whatever group
occupied the position of most disadvantaged within the social
structure became his by default. Once I decided it could not be
coincidence, I suspected the Creator used Drake to study a
particular phenomenon. Until last Iteration, when I overheard him
telling Jerome that being a part of the out group brought with it
the advantage of community. In all the times I have heard Drake
complain about his circumstances, I never heard something as
authentic as that one off-hand admission.

“Another piece of evidence is the existence
of the Church of the Demiurge. I am convinced that the schism among
us caused competing desires that the Creator could not resolve.
Several of you desired to punish rogue Observers. Another
questioned the inherent moral quality of the Creator. The result
was the perverse religion that Ingrid and Erik learned to
hate.”

“The fuck,” Erik said. “Rich people got
better community than anyone. Why wouldn't Drake be sent into the
country club class if he wants friends so bad?”

Heads turned to Drake. He shrank in on
himself.

“I think I understand,” Jerome said. “The
upper class compete. Sometimes it is friendly; often it is only a
veneer of civility that makes it appear that way. Those on the
outside form tight-knit communities where people don't judge one
another so quickly. If any of you have been listening during these
meetings, what conversation we have tends to be combative. We, the
privileged Observers living among the people, are snobs by virtue
of our positions. The downtrodden stick together.”

Erik rolled his eyes. “Aw, baby need a
blankie? Grow the fuck up, Drake. You're a disgrace to the rest of
us.”

Drake slammed a fist onto the table. “I never
said any of that! All of you stop putting words in my mouth! You
know why I got the shit jobs so many times? Cause I can handle it!
I been through more than any of you know.”

“Please, cupcake. I've faced
inquisitions.”

“No insults,” Greg muttered.

Drake glared at Elza. “Leave me out of
this.”

“Let's talk about you instead,” Griff said.
“We get Hess don't like cock, but what's your reason for being a
woman?”

Elza hesitated. “Because I would do anything
for Hess.”

“Except, you know,
live
,” Erik
said.

Ingrid leaned forward. “I refuse to believe
the Creator has frivolous goals. While I agree with your low
opinion of some of our coworkers, that doesn't provide us any
additional insights. The Creator is not just the twelve of us. We
are more than employees but less than the sum total.”

In the silence that followed, Drake stood.
“Are we done? Good.”

Greg cleared his throat as the door slammed
shut behind their departed colleague. “If there are no other
questions, then we appear to be taking a fifteen minute break. It
is my sincere hope the Creator finds more value in our meetings
than I do.”

Her father gestured and Elza approached. As
she took his hand, she noticed his skin felt cool even in the heat
of the day – a fact that seemed even more ominous than his
inability to stand these past few days.

“My Elza,” he said.

“Yes, papa.”

“I am sorry.”

Her brow wrinkled. “For what?”

A coughing fit interrupted whatever he was
about to say. When it passed, her father had to recline on the
hammock she had constructed for him. “I die soon.”

Elza nodded. Age had robbed all vitality from
him.

“I worry. You need a man.”

“Of all the women who have ever lived, I need
a man the least.”

A pleased smile lit his face. “Clever Elza.
Strong Elza.
Still
. . . .”

“I don't need a man, papa. And I don't want
one giving me orders.”

His smile faded. “Yes, yes. But it's not good
to be alone. Not a woman, not a man, not anyone.” The speech winded
him, and he had to stop. Elza caressed the back of his hand.

“I'll be fine, papa. You were the only man I
ever needed in my life.”

His eyes grew sad. “I loved you too much. No
love left for other men.”

“That's not how the world works, papa.”

“Maybe.”

“Trust me, papa. I have been watching for
many years now.”

He closed his eyes. “Tell me about the giants
of the sea.”

Elza smiled down at her father. “There are no
giants of the sea making waves when they jump to grab the moon. It
is a silly idea. The waves come all the time, not just when the
moon is in the sky. The giants don't cause the tides either. That
is the moon pulling on the water. I don't know how it works, but it
does. That's the only thing that makes any sense.”