Plug-Ins

Posted in Alternative Energy, Classic Sci-Fi, Lucerne Village with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on July 4, 2012 by javedbabar

Bobby had joined the Devils’ Den audience to escape the chattering salesmen at the New Ideas Show, but now he was really enjoying it. The ideas so far had been pretty wacky, but the amateur entrepreneurs presenting them had been passionate and unapologetic about their proposals. Maybe that’s what makes a good business person, thought Bobby.

The third person presenting wore a strange wig. At least it appeared to be a wig. It could be a really bad hairdo, or a case of double bluff where a baldy wears a hairpiece so bad that people say, “that could never be a wig!” Anyway, it was brown and spiky, like a seventies rock star.

It was amazing that host Collette Vapinski, who was famous for being famous, didn’t make fun of the wig. This was probably because of its unknown status. You could see that she was tempted, but resisted and instead said, “Please introduce yourself and explain your idea.”

“Hello panel! Hello audience! My name is Desmond. I’m here to talk about plugs. I know what you’re thinking – plugs, what’s there to talk about? How mundane.”

Low-tech pioneer Amisha Jordan rolled her eyes, expecting another electrical gadget. Digital activist Juno Osh leaned forward. Arch-capitalist Arthur Choo kept a straight face.

Desmond continued, “Plugs let you connect any object to any power source. Isn’t it amazing that a tiny power point lets you connect to infinite universal energy?” The audience didn’t think so. “And now we have SCARTs for audio-visual devices, USBs in computers, and Ethernet for networking, a different kind of power, plus all manner of alternative energies – solar, wind, hydroelectric, geothermal, tidal, just to name a few. You know…”

“So what?” said Amisha. “What’s your point?”

He wasn’t daunted, and continued. “Aren’t electric cars amazing? They’re better in every way. They run quietly, with no emissions, and recharge for pennies. They are the greenest transport available.”

“Don’t push your greenwash, pal. We’ve had bicycles since the…”

Juno Osh interrupted her. “I suppose you came here on a bike from the City, did you? All one hundred and sixty kilometres this morning?” Amisha was embarrassed and stopped talking.

These interruptions made Desmond forget his script. He stood there for a while, looking stupid, then removed his wig and turned around. There was a metal socket in the back of his head, into which he plugged a cable leading to a projector.

A slideshow began on screen, showing his ideas for the next stage of Artificial Intelligence – full hardware-software-meatware integration. It was pretty technical. The audience and panel watched open-mouthed. Bobby thought, now that’s a real innovation.

After a few slides, however, something went wrong. The screen flashed goofy pictures, images of depression drugs, interracial pornography, and End Time prophecies. People gasped and laughed. Desmond became upset and unplugged immediately.

“I think it needs a bit more work,” said Amisha, and sat back, smiling.

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Container Houses

Posted in Alternative Energy, Classic Sci-Fi, Lucerne Village with tags , , , , , , , , on July 3, 2012 by javedbabar

After the nerd had presented his idea for a floating city – floating in air, not water – came a girl with a more sensible idea – container houses. Bobby was enjoying the Devils’ Den event at the New Ideas Show. He was looking for ideas to start his own business in job-poor Lucerne.

“The essential problem is not lack of housing,” said the presenter, who had neglected to mention her name. “It has to do with distribution. Just like with food – where some become obese, whilst others starve – people have too much or too little shelter. For example why does a childless couple have a ten thousand square foot house in Strattus that they use one month a year, while someone in Mumbai has a hundred square foot room housing three generations?”

“Isn’t that their reward, and their choice?” said Arthur Choo, ex-chief economist of the Bank of Canadia. “They are wealth creators, and every dollar they spend is multiplied within the economy.”

“That may be true,” said the presenter. “But I believe they should be encouraged to make better choices. Shipping containers provide an equitable, flexible solution. They are easy to load, unload, stack, transfer and transport. Everyone should get one. Isn’t that a basic right of democracy, fair housing? A house is the basis…”

She was interrupted by Amisha Jordan, promoter of traditional and low-tech solutions. “I like the idea, but it’s been done already. There are offices and hotels made of containers in port cities.”

“Not underwater,” said the presenter. People gasped.

“What? You are hoping to build underwater housing?”

“Yes, in international waters. They belong to everyone so people can live where they like. There’s no need to be oppressed by the outmoded paradigms of nation states. We can…”

Arthur Choo said, “I’m afraid it’s not that simple. International waters have regulations too. You can’t just live where you like; in the same way you can’t just fish where you like. There are guidelines.”

“I will look into the legal framework later. Right now I’m concerned with mastering physical, chemical and biological environments; looking at things like pressure, temperature, humidity and light; water, food, waste and toxins; sea creatures, microorganisms and fungi. Once those are managed, everything is possible.”

“Okay,” said Arthur Choo. “I’m willing to look at this at a conceptual level. Go on.”

“I’ve also located undersea methane vents, and begun work on dolphin communications and plankton farms…”

Uh-oh, thought Bobby. This girl is all out to sea. Why are young entrepreneurs obsessed by the sea? He’d heard ideas for boats made of recycled bottles, floating cities and marine farms. He didn’t realize they were in tune with the soul of the planet, the global unconscious, and being drawn towards the creative source.

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Floating City

Posted in Alternative Energy, Classic Sci-Fi, Lucerne Village with tags , , , , , , , , on July 2, 2012 by javedbabar

Bobby was at the New Ideas Show in Lucerne. It was a great opportunity to do some research for his new business. He’d grown tired of salesmen chattering though and slipped into the audience for Devils’ Den. The first amateur entrepreneur brave enough to face the panel of expert investors was a tall nerdish looking boy.

“Come on up!” said the host, Collette Vapinski, a lady famous for being famous. The boy began walking swiftly but slowed down as he approached the stage. “Come on! Let’s speed it up! We’re in the age of global business. There’s no time to hang about!” The audience laughed. “Woo! There goes an Indian company spicing up your code! Choo! There goes a Chinese company copying your product and shipping it before you do!” Arthur Choo, ex-chief economist of the Bank of Canadia, looked up at her, annoyed. She mouthed, “Sorry.”

The boy had reached the stage. “Please introduce yourself and tell us about your idea.”

“Hello everybody,” said the boy. “My name is Cedric and I’d like to tell you about my idea for a floating city. It is one kilometre wide and houses up to a million citizens in high-density housing. There is large-scale vertical gardening, and a one hundred percent recycling facility that…”

“Wait a minute!” called Amisha Jordan, a promoter of traditional and low-tech technologies. “A floating city? You mean in the sea? No? In the air! How will you do that? It sounds ridiculous!”

The boy was scared by her interruption, but recovered and continued. “It will be built of a mixture of carbon alloys and holograms. All heating will be solar, cooling will be by winds, and it will levitate by means of electromagnetism. It will be useful for inhospitable regions of earth. One kilometre above the earth’s surface there are fewer noxious gases, and cleaner air to breathe…”

“Excuse me,” said Arthur Choo. “Are we speaking of the near future or several centuries yet? What’s your timeline?” It was not a hostile question.

“I’m thinking two hundred years in the future, the same time frame as Sony’s futurists.”

Someone in the audience called out “Two hundred years!” and Cedric hesitated, but Arthur Choo nodded and said, “Go on.”

Cedric was encouraged by this and spoke rapidly. “It will be an entirely independent entity, and can move with the seasons to optimise energy production and resident comfort. It will have fully secure access and good immigration controls. Of course tourism will be a major…”

Social media pioneer June Osh interrupted. “What about using these cities on other planets. Have you thought of that?”

“Yes, it is certainly a possibility for…”

“How much do you need?” she said.

Cedric answered immediately, “I’m looking for five hundred billion dollars for half of the company.”

“I’m in!” said June Osh. There was a gasp from the crowd. “But I don’t have the funds available yet so will only act as an advisor. My website Farmbook is not yet profitable, but it does have one billion members. We could try crowd funding…”

Good luck to you both, thought Bobby. Maybe he didn’t have the right frame of mind to be an entrepreneur.

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Devil's Den

Posted in Lucerne Village with tags , , , , , , , , on July 1, 2012 by javedbabar

Bobby had lived in Lucerne for six months. It was in truth as beautiful as when he’d first seen it – those stunning black and white mountains at opposite ends of the valley, with forests, lakes and rivers between – but its sheen had worn off somewhat. Just because a place is beautiful, he’d realized, doesn’t mean that you can find work there. He was fed up with selling muffins and pumping gas. He needed to start his own business; he had some ideas but no clue what to do with them.

He was delighted to hear that their glassy community centre, commonly called the Transparent Temple, was hosting a New Ideas Show. This was a forum for business start-ups, and those providing ancillary services, to promote themselves in a community-minded atmosphere. He saw many trucks coming on Friday, setting up for the weekend show.

On Saturday morning Bobby entered the Great Hall, which was full of bright stalls and banners. There were sandwich and massage franchises, internet hosting and search engine optimisation services, all competing for your attention. There were also branding and shipping specialists, designers, printers, accountants and lawyers. They all introduced themselves, presented data, gave you their cards, and wanted yours – to receive special offers and enter prize draws, they said. Their chatter was overwhelming.

Bobby came to a quieter area set with chairs, and joined the audience there in expectation of something interesting. The scheduled event soon started. He recognized the host, Collette Vapinski, a glamorous lady famous for being famous. She said, “Hello everyone! Welcome to Devils’ Den, a place where our panel of expert investors quizzes amateur entrepreneurs about their business proposals, and if they are impressed, offer funding in exchange for shares.”

“Without further ado, I will introduce our expert panel. First we have Amisha Jordan, known for her faith in traditional and low-tech technologies. She is quoted as saying, “When the world runs out of fuel and you’re living back in the Stone Age, I will be dancing with Leonardo in the Renaissance.” There were boos from the crowd.

“Next we have Arthur Choo, once chief economist of the Bank of Canadia, now author of the bestselling book, “POP: Principle of Profit”, which promotes the open market as the most rational medium of exchange.” There was polite applause.

“Finally there is Juno Osh, founder of Farmbook, who believes that open source technology and social media not only build healthier communities, but will actually save the world.” People cheered wildly.

“Okay, who is brave enough to be the first to enter the Devils’ Den?” She looked around before her eyes settled on Bobby.

Was this his moment? he wondered.

In business isn’t it now or never?

He recalled the term prime mover advantage from a business book he’d browsed at the library. This is where initiative meets opportunity and the winner takes all.

He waited too long though. Collette Vapinski’s gaze moved on. She pointed to a tall guy with glasses, who got up and walked to the stage.

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The Asian Children

Posted in Global Travel, Lucerne Village, Mystical Experience, Unknown with tags , , , , , , , , on June 30, 2012 by javedbabar

I’m used to them now, the little rascals, thought Albert. Much can change in a week! Last Tuesday he’d been doing his school run, same as ever, and there they stood, twenty-four Asian children, by the side of the road. He didn’t know for sure that they were Asian, but that was his and everybody else’s best guess. Even the ethno-linguists and social workers were not certain. “Indo-Tibetan” was their best notion.

Who they were, and how they’d got there, were burning questions. The story however had been kept out of mainstream media, The Authority believing it would inflame the immigration debate. It remained a local, word-of-mouth story.

Albert had stopped for them immediately but then been stumped. Should he pick them up now, or leave them here and seek guidance in town? He was out of cell range so couldn’t call the bus company or cops. Albert made three decisions that day.

First, he decided to pick them all up and take them into town.

Second, he drove right past his usual pick-ups, making some of them cry. Their parents had rung the school to complain. Under the circumstances he felt his actions were warranted. He needed to get these lost kids to a safe place. His usual charges had a safe place already, and it was best they stayed there for now.

His third decision was to take the kids straight to school rather than to the cops. It felt more appropriate. Teachers would know how to handle troubled children; cops would likely frighten them. He’d spent too much time with cops in his life, and never enough time with teachers. His life had been so fucked up from the beginning: his violent family, his mixed-up head, his abused body, everything. It was amazing he was still living and breathing, here and now in Lucerne. Okay he was single and had few friends, but so what?

It was decided to house the Asian children at a local Bed & Breakfast, but many of them began to scream, till they were taken out again. They didn’t like town at all. They preferred rural areas or wilderness. They also hated being separated. Efforts to divide them led to more screaming.

The village council held an emergency meeting, and decided to accommodate them in the old school house in the Upper Valley, twenty kilometres out of town.

The Asian children didn’t mind coming into town for school though. They liked seeing the other children, though they were not yet ready to engage with them. Albert having found them on the Lucerne Valley Road, was asked to drive the Asian children back and forth. They liked to sit together at the back of the bus.

They were silent for the first few days, but then one said hello to Albert while he was driving. Albert said hello back, immediately after which the bus was filled with sniggering. He turned his head and saw that there was no one standing in the aisle or sitting in the front rows of seats. Who had said hello?

“Please keep your eyes on the road, Mr. Driver. You’ve got our twenty-four precious lives in your hands.” There were many more sniggers. “We are telepaths. It is a very useful ability in the mountains where we lived. We didn’t need to cup our hands and shout while climbing.”

“How did you get here?” Albert asked aloud.

“It’s hard for us to explain that. Why don’t you tell us how you got here?”

Albert realized that this is a very hard thing to do.

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The Pattern

Posted in Lucerne Village, Mystical Experience, Sacred Geometry, Unknown with tags , , , , , , , on June 29, 2012 by javedbabar

Terry tumbled while climbing Mt Negra. Jen had told him not to climb it. “My dad was a mountaineer,” she’d said. “I know how fit you should be; how much training you need; how you should never climb alone.” He’d hoped that she wouldn’t go on about it but she had. “It’s great you want to do something special for your thirtieth birthday. If you‘d have thought of it last year, and we were well prepared, I’d say, ‘Woo! Let’s go there!’ But you thought of it last week. It’s stupid. It’s ridiculous! There’s no way I’m climbing that mountain, and neither should you.”

He’d said, “I told you already, babe. I’m going.”

“Well I’m not going to hang around, knowing you’re going to kill yourself. I’m pregnant. I don’t want the stress. I’m going to the city to visit my parents.”

He’d only made it half way up before he slipped on gravel and rolled down thirty feet. Thank God it was only that. If he’d fallen on the dark ledge further up, he would most likely have ended up as a corpse in the river. He’d suffered only aching bones and heavy bruising.

His bones needed hot baths, yet the bruising called for cold packs. Which would be better overall? He went for the full bath treatment, with classical music, mineral salts, and candles – like he’d seen Jen do. He should have told her about his accident, she’d have come back running, he knew; but it was his own stupid fault; let her enjoy getting spoiled by her folks.

Terry emerged from the bath and noticed that his veins were visible, like they are after vigorous exercise, but more so. The veins stayed raised all night. His skin looked like the underside of a gnarly blue leaf. Maybe his bath was too hot. Jen had told him often to cool down the water. He should listen to her more. It was hard to take her seriously though, like when she was talking about “bad energies”.

“What are those?” he’d asked her.

“Evil spirits and black curses,” she’d said. She should be more rational; they didn’t live in a fairy tale.

Next morning he seemed more tired than usual. He woke up late and wandered straight into the shower. When he emerged, the raised veins were still there. The shower was quicker and cooler than the bath, yet had caused the same effect, or had the veins never gone down?

He put on his glasses and looked himself over. The veins were raised all over his body. He looked like a rolled net, or a very old cheese. They could be map contours, or crazy etching. He was reminded of his visit to a surgical museum where he’d seen a baby’s corpse, its blood vessels were filled with red plastic, and all of the flesh removed. It was a curious exhibit, showing the flow of life but also its stagnation.

Terry’s blood vessels branched outwards from his heart as if reaching for life. But unlike the baby, all of them were blue. There was only used blood returning from everywhere; none of it being oxygenated, rejuvenated. The dark mountain at the end of the valley had coloured his blood and claimed him for her own. Was he now filled with bad energies?

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Ice Block

Posted in Lucerne Village, Sacred Geometry, World Myths with tags , , , , , , , on June 28, 2012 by javedbabar

It was the coldest winter ever and Matt could barely sit on his ass. Even the chair was chilled, it made his butt clench. But his security company, Rapid Response, required someone to man the office. All of its computers, screens and phones were here.

Matt picked up the iced phone – his breath must have frozen on it – and called Danny, who was on duty tonight at the Transparent Temple – nickname for their community centre. “Hey Agent D, how’s the weather over there?”

“It’s bloody freezing! You should know. Don’t you have temperature readings on your monitors?”

“Yes, I do. But they’re telling me minus fifty. Is it really that cold there?”

“Well it’s zero in the office with the heating full on. So that’s probably right.”

Matt said, “Jeez, what’s happening this winter?” He’d heard reports of early frost, growing glaciers and icecaps, and record snowfall, then corrections saying that this winter there would be the least snowfall ever. Snow only forms at -1°C to -4°C; it would be way colder than that.

“This whole village is freezing in,” said Danny. “That’s what’s happening this winter.”

Matt had noticed already that people were minimising their movements. Rather than popping in and out of town, they’d only visit once a day and get all their jobs done. Stores and cafes were suffering. Surprisingly it was the ones on the highway that had first put up notices saying “closed till further notice”, as people were no longer visiting, or even passing through, Lucerne. The stores downtown were still operational, just, because of local business.

A week later however, they also were closed. People bunkered down in their houses. Woodstoves became lifesavers as people’s gas and electric heating systems began to break down. Their stoves were burning around the clock, with neighbours pressed around them – the more body heat the better – in blanket rooms, built within regular rooms. People ate from their root houses and larders. They knew they couldn’t feed their pets, so killed, and sometimes ate them. Livestock died off quickly, and the one good thing about this cold was that their meat stayed well preserved.

Rapid Response’s control room remained fully functional. Matt had refused to abandon his customers, all signed up for annual contracts. They needed to feel secure in this difficult time. He was sure they would repay him with loyalty when the village returned to normal. They wouldn’t go with cheaper rivals who were trying to steal his business.

Matt however had stopped moving entirely. His last thoughts remained in his mind forever, as they do for those who die frozen. He was comfortably seated, protecting people in a happy, safe, warm land, surrounded by racks of pressed white flowers, all of them six-petalled.

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Man in the Moon

Posted in Classic Sci-Fi, Lucerne Village, Mystical Experience, World Myths with tags , , , , , , , on June 27, 2012 by javedbabar

Guru Baba stood in a field near his house, staring at the moon. There was the Mare Imbrium, and Mare Serenitatis, looking like a pair of eyes; smaller M. Vaparen and M. Insularum, joined into a nose; M. Cognitum and M. Nubium forming a mouth. There he was, formed of dark seas and bright highlands, the Man in the Moon. His monochromatic light play had amused humans since the dawn of their time.

He motioned to his assistant, Sami, who walked right over. “Are you wondering why I brought you here?” he said.

“Sort of,” he said. “But I’ve stopped wondering about most things since I began working for you.”

Guru Baba’s face dropped. He wondered, what did he mean by that?

Sami continued, “The things you say and do defy explanation, so there’s no point wondering. I’ll never understand.”

“You must never stop wondering!” shouted Guru Baba. His voice was harder than Sami had ever heard it before. He realized he had made him very angry. Guru Baba’s next words, however, were calm.

“Come, look at the moon with me.” Guru Baba became silent for a while, wondering if Sami was ready. Was he ready to be taught? He could end up like a Russian shaman he knew, stuck in the moon. It was spiritually rather than physically, but that was just as bad, if not worse. He decided that this one bad egg – whose ego exceeded his skill – should not be his benchmark. There were many better stories. Had he not succeeded himself?

He said to Sami, “What do you see?”

“I see the moon,” he said. “And the Man in the Moon.”

Ah good, thought Guru Baba. He is attuned. “But what is the Man in the Moon?”

“Well, I remember my Grandma’s stories. She loved folktales and myths. She said he was a man punished by God for gathering sticks on the Sabbath. She also said he’d been banished for stealing his neighbour’s hedgerows, and other people’s sheep. There was a Chinese story of a woman who drank a double potion of the Elixir of Life and then lived there with her rabbits. She was the Woman in the Moon. Polynesians said he was the world’s greatest sailor, riding a boat of light in the sky…”

“Very good,” said Guru Baba, thinking what a fine choice of assistant he’d made. “They are all true. But the real Man in the Moon is greater than all of those together. Look at his light and dark parts, expressing the duality of the universe. Look deeper. What do you see? That’s right; he holds the Taijitu – the Yin-Yang symbol. See his dark parts to the top and left, and bright parts to the bottom and right. They swirl around each other. He takes the light of the sun and reflects it wholly, but also holds shade. The Man in the Moon is our supreme teacher. Are you ready to learn his lessons?”

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Deepest Desires

Posted in Lucerne Village, Mystical Experience, Unknown with tags , , , , , , , on June 26, 2012 by javedbabar

Guru Baba had retired as a holy man three years ago. He’d announced to the world that he would withdraw from active spiritual life, and live simply in “that lovely little village with the white mountain above it,” known as Lucerne.

In those three years, however, he had learnt that one can never really switch off from the spirit. Once you connect with the heart of life there’s no way to stop vital force pumping; you are forever part of the flow. Sure, you could have the spiritual equivalent of a cardiac arrest, but those at one with life rarely died in such a fashion. There were usually other factors involved such as mental illness, aggravated genetic conditions, or political intrigues.

For some time now, he’d felt strange energies at play in Lucerne. He couldn’t quite point his finger at them, but they tingled his palms. He had known this place was rich and holy – that’s why he’d come here. The black and white peaks at opposite ends of the valley, the silent red forests, the icecap to the west and desert to the east, the pale rivers, dark lakes, and mysterious ancient places, all came together powerfully. They held energetic lines converging, forming zones of pure potential.

Guru Baba’s young assistant, Sami, brought regular reports of mysterious happenings; “Strange goings-on” as he called them. There were scented bubbles at a natural spring, a Tea-Jay using ancient herbs and rituals to entrance vast crowds; a girl and her uncle lost in the realms of their own drawing; Botanical Gardens with evil-minded plants evolving; a seniors centre where lost lovers cast new souls; a dark harp whose vibrations brought down buildings; “light water” revealing heavenly constellations; healing machines that mixed patient’s intentions with technology; even reports of android spiders from Mars. The latter was probably a product of Sami’s imagination.

Such strange occurrences were usually seen only at temples or in the presence of prophets. Guru Baba didn’t mind saying though that he’d seen a few himself.

He phoned his office at the Transparent Temple – nickname for their community centre – and said “Sami, please bring the truck.”

“Why, Guru Baba? Should you not be resting today?”

“I wish to visit the natural spring you told me about.”

Guru Baba spent an hour there, its ginger-honey bubbles popping around him. He was infused with passion and reverence. Time and space dissolved…

He returned to the truck only when his deepest desires were fulfilled. Not those of being young again, or world peace, or for an end to hunger, or for all people to be equal and happy. Those were superficial. His truest desire was to be here now. What more could anyone want?

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Light Water

Posted in Lucerne Village, Mystical Experience, Sacred Geometry with tags , , , , , , , , on June 25, 2012 by javedbabar

Danny stood on the far side of the car park, looking down. Sophie indicated for him to walk towards her but he didn’t move. “Come on, love,” she called out, “Let’s go.”

There was still no motion, so she walked towards him instead, and put her arm around his waist when she reached him. “Are you all right?”

Danny looked up at her but said nothing, then again looked downwards. She followed his eyes and saw what he was looking at: a large pool of water reflecting the stars, and also the two of them. It wasn’t a normal reflection though. Their images were repeated all over the pool in different sizes, with different opacities, and orientations. They seemed caught within an infinite mirror, with stars all around them.

All she could say was, “Wow! Babe.” Sophie was no scientist, but figured it was something to do with crystals melting into water. There had been frost warnings this week, and she’d seen snow plows spreading rock salt. It must affect the water somehow.

She had heard the term “heavy water” on a news story about proliferation of nuclear technology in the Middle East. Was it something like that? Then she realized that if anything, this was its opposite: light water, water filled with light.

Sophie was mesmerised by the mirror. She stood beside Danny, together, forever it seemed. Forever and ever. Here they were in Lucerne. There, in the City, before they’d met. And there, living in a beautiful cabin in the valley. Elsewhere, at the Taj Mahal. She was hallucinating surely. Meditating. Obsessing. Entranced.

This water was filled with the wonder of the universe. The stars all around them knowing each other, connecting and signalling, making constellations.

His Taurus strode towards her Leo, but rather than fighting, they lay down together in velvet. Aquarius carried over a pitcher of cool water with Pisces swimming within it. Gemini said, “Hello! Hello!” to Capricorn, who replied with “Mehhn!” Cancer and Scorpio pinched each other playfully. Virgo herded Aries along, while Sagittarius used Libra to balance his arrows. Was this an image of the “heaven on earth” spoken of in holy books? A moment of union with all that exists?

“Hey! What are you two looking at?” shouted their friend Shama, pulling his truck into the car park, on his way to the bottle shop. “Get out of the way or you’ll be pretty flat soon.” Danny and Sophie looked up as he drove through the light water. It rippled and became dark.

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