The Orpheus Machine

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BY the sixth day of the voyage, Ruiz Aw had become friendly with the second mate of the Loracca, the ancient barge that had carried him away from his enemies in SeaStack. Gunderd was a short wiry man with bad teeth. He complained frequently and imaginatively about the decrepitude of the Loracca, the incompetence of her crew, the lucklessness of her captain: “Four ships sunk under him already. He’s a young man yet. Makes me constantly uneasy.”

Gunderd affected a costume of gaudy rags and a clanking assortment of gold chains. When Ruiz asked him if he feared falling overboard with so much ballast around his neck, Gunderd replied cheerfully that he couldn’t swim anyway. “Best to get it over with quick,” he explained. “It’s not the dying I fear, so much… it’s the long slow falling away from the light. Into the cold dark.”

“I see,” said Ruiz Aw politely, though he found Gunderd’s attitude eccentric.

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