LazarusBoard

Leticia Grenkin, full up on kale and almonds was taking shelter under the shade of the conning tower, when a shout came from the top of that structure. "We've got company! Starboard side!"

Leticia staggered to her feet, rushing out onto the deck. The calm water and gentle sky of the waters south of Thule, showed her nothing, but then another cry went up. "Port side! I meant port side!"

Turning around, Leticia proceeded to join the mass of hippies flocking to the port side of the ship. Many wear yelling and pointing, but one man broke down. "I can't see anything! I must be blind!"

He was mostly ignored, for there in the waves, clinging on to a piece of driftwood was the limp figure of a woman. "Go get him!" someone screamed.

"You misgendered her!" another hippie yelled. Perhaps they engaged in this verbal duel so as to not do any of the work that saving her would involve, Truth be told, not many hippies had cared about learning the proper safety procedures. They had been far too busy munching on kale and smoking mysterious substances to bother with any of that, but, perhaps somewhat surprisingly, even though the vessel was filled with people neither skilled in operating the military vessel, nor always in control of their actions, accidents had not occurred. The older hippies, who had been hippies for a longer time, stood there unable to do anything. The more recent hippies, who had spent more of their lives in the non-hippie world, stepped up to the plate. A couple of them had experience with rescue at sea, and they sprang into action. While the ship was never going to perform the Anderson Manoeuvre, a rescue boat was deployed. It wasn't long before the sprawled woman was laid out on the deck.

"She'll get a shock when she wakes up." Leticia thought.

Five minutes went by, looking for the five minutes that had already been. A bus pulled up, and Stephanus got on. He paid the fair, and took his favourite seat on the second floor, in the middle. At this time of day, the bus was near empty and Stephanus easily got the window seat he had been wanting. Then with a hiss that signalled the closing of the doors, and the jolt as the bus resumed its route, the bus moved away from the station. As the journey commenced, Stephanus watched the town's houses, shops and parks drift by. A couple was walking down Arket Street, arm in arm. A cluster of birds drank at a birdbath in one of the gardens, and a jogger stood on a street corner panting and looking through the bakery window.

The electric sign on the bus told Stephanus that they were coming to Elsyin Way, his stop. He didn't need to read the sign, being already very familiar with this area, but he read it every time all the same. Hopping of the bus, Stepanhus crossed the road, finding his way to the local running track. On the holidays, from Monday to Friday, Stephanus ran here. Entering the building, he got a smile from the receptionist, and they exchanged greetings. They had come to know each other quite well over the year or so Stephanus had been running.

He inserted his card in the turnstile and pushed the bar aside. It wasn't long before he stepped onto the track. He took another deep breath, completed a few stretches, and walked over to the starting position. He closed his eyes, counted himself in, and sprang upwards, breathing diaphragmatically and settling into the rhythm he knew so well. Running along the inside lane, he ran several laps. In the heart of Klaksis, Stephanus ran, round, round and round again. With the swoosh of a busying motorway, and the wind rushing by his ears, he let out a smile, turning his run to a sprint as he crossed the finish line one more time.