William Dietrich - Getting back

Sparks climbed skyward and seemed to join the stars. Daniel got a laugh with his story of how he'd started a tiny blaze in his apartment.

"I'll pay fifty bucks to see you do that again," offered Ico.

"You brought money?"

"Just what I had. In case we got held up somewhere." He shrugged. "I'll probably keep it though, for emergencies, and pay you at home."

"That's crazier than rubbing sticks, you know that?"

"Come on, I want to see you do it."

"No, I'm too tired. Last time it took me hours. Besides, you'll get to see me do it for free once we run out of matches."

"Civilization starting to look better then?" He held up a match.

"Not good enough that I'd want to be carrying seventy-five pounds, like you're doing."

Ico grinned. "It gets lighter with every match."

The light and food and rest relaxed them, erasing memories of the heat of the day. They laughed at Ico's espresso maker with its solar battery chip, but they each had a cup.

"See, what I'm looking for is balance," he explained. "I know this shit is silly, but why not take the best of both worlds and enjoy ourselves out here? It's society I don't like, not technology. Bureaucracy, not gadgets. My goal is to find out what's really necessary, what's really important, and then plan permanent escape. I take the essentials into a wild pocket of the world- maybe even sneak back here- and live my life, not theirs. Even Robinson Crusoe had a lot of shipwreck gear to salvage. I'd want that too."

"You don't happen to have an ice cream maker stuffed away, do you, Crusoe?" Tucker asked. "I'm craving strawberry ripple."

"Nah. But maybe there's still wild cows in Australia. If you catch one, Freidel, I'll make you a latte."

Despite his weariness from the day's walk, Daniel was too restless to immediately sleep. He strolled up the riverbed, the gray sand shimmering under the stars and the night strangely comforting in its glow. This was not a scary place at all, he decided. He also liked the smell of Australia. There was none of the odor of moist soil and decay like some wet northern forests he had hiked in, but rather a scent of dry wood and plant oils that strangely reminded him of dusty furniture. The aridity seemed clean. He could hear animals scuttling away in the night and he wondered who the group's neighbors were. There were no large predators in Australia, he knew. Eventually they might run into wild domestics- dogs, camels, cows, pigs- but for the moment nature seemed unfamiliar, harmless, and discreet.

He sat on a log, looked up into the night sky, and shivered. The glorious immensity! Not just of the universe, but this strange red desert. It was intimidating to think of being so far from help, but liberating too. He could go anywhere, do anything. Be anything. All the restraints were off except the ones remaining in his head. This could be heaven, he thought: roaming endlessly with his house on his back and exploring the uncharted terrain of his own spirit. He could do it forever with the right person. Daniel wondered if Raven was out there somewhere, and if so whether she was walking with a man other than himself. He wondered if he'd ever see her again.

There was a rustle and he turned. It was Amaya.

"Can I join you?"

He beckoned and she sat down on the log next to him. "It's nicest at night," she said. "No wonder that's when most of the desert creatures move about."

"I think we're going to have to change our habits. Move early and late, hole up at midday. We're prisoners of that sun."

"Prisoners? I thought we came here for freedom, Daniel."

"Oops."

"We just need to get in rhythm."

"That's what I meant. But it was an interesting slip. I've heard that when you're jailed long enough you never really get free. You become a prisoner in your own mind. Everything looks like a wall. And you learn to like your jailers."

"You're worried that's you."

"Of course."

"We do have to be realistic about what we can achieve out here," she said. "Animals aren't really free. They spend their lives bound by the weather, the seasons, and hunting or being hunted. We shouldn't romanticize them or their existence or pretend we can find a life without limitations. But I liked what you said today about getting away from numbers and schedules and maps. I think we're here to break bad habits, or at least recognize and examine them."

He looked at her face, pale in the starlight. Amaya was actually quite pretty, he decided- not beautiful in the conventional sense of a model but rather kind, good, with bright, intelligent eyes, a wide smile, and a grounded sensibility he found reassuring. Her appeal snuck up on you. It was interesting she'd sought him out. "I think the voice of reason so far has been you," he said. "Us boys can get kind of silly sometimes. We enjoy the arguing. It's like a game."

"I know."

They sat for a while, staring up at the sky.

"I never knew there could be so many stars," Daniel said. "We never see them at home. The light they cast is amazing."

"Maybe someday those stars will be our new wilderness, do you think? A wilderness to explore that goes on to infinity. But not yet. We've barely put our toe into space, so for now this is as far out as people like you and I can get."

"Did you ever want to be an astronaut?"

She shivered. "No. Space seemed too cold."

"So now you're a bush ranger instead."

"I'm just a woman who wants to fall in love with this world as it is, or rather was. I don't need the planets. I want to feel at home here."

"And do you?"

"After one day? It's too early to tell. But I'm glad I came."

"I was right about you being centered. You seem the most balanced of any of us. You recognize what we're seeing, you don't complain, and your gear seems well organized. You're so normal I'm wondering what you're doing here."

She laughed. "Looking, like everyone else."

"Looking for what? A place?"

"No, a person. That's what women look for."

"A boyfriend? You've sort of cut down the number of possibilities, haven't you? Three losers?"

"Daniel, you're not fair to yourself. But no, not a boyfriend. I want a companion in a place that gets rid of all the modern complications that get in the way of friendship- and I may have found three such companions already. But that's not the person I mean."

"Someone to love, then."

"Someday. But another, first."

"Who?"

"Me."

He waited for her to explain.

"It's true I haven't found love yet," she said. "But what I realized back home is that first I have to find myself."

They rose at dawn again, as enchanted as ever by the ethereal light, and ate and packed quickly. Despite the lack of schedule they couldn't break the habit of disciplined briskness, readying quickly so they could put more miles behind them. Daniel, who had brought no tent and no sleeping bag and no stove, was ready first. His pack was lightest because the others were carrying more food as well.

His supply was mostly power rations and staples, like rice. The others carried more elaborate freeze-dried meals.

"I've got enough for a month if I stretch it," Daniel told them when Ico asked. "What I really need to do, and want to do, is live off the land. Otherwise I'm just a tourist."

"More power to you," said Ico carefully, "but I mean no offense when I say we should each eat what we carry. I'm packing twice the rations but I didn't bring all this food to feed anyone else. I just don't want any expectations down the line, okay?"

"No one expects you to feed us. If I lived off you, Ico, I wouldn't have achieved a thing by coming here. I don't want the fish. I want to learn how to fish. And if I catch one, I'll share it."

"No, Dyson," Tucker said. "Then you teach us how to fish."