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Author : Gary Will Kreie I love my new self-driving …
The Coastline
Author: Alzo David-West
A ship moved on the ocean. The vessel was big, and its sides were covered in salt. Young people were all over the deck, wearing fitted t-shirts and short shorts. Warm air blew gently. Some of the passengers leaned against the railings as others rested in deckchairs. Music played, and the ship kept traveling.
Daylight flattened with mist descending over the horizon. The big ship crawled into the low, colorless haze. There, the young voices grew uneasy, quieting for a while. Gradually, the brightness returned, and a distant landfall appeared. The crew steered toward their destination.
Then, closer, everyone saw it was not the right place. The land was crowded with overgrown ferns and colossal trees, and there were no docks, buildings, or people. Something came out from the tall wild grass — a massive caracal the size of a lion. The carnivore looked at the ship, tracking the vessel. More of the territorial wildcats approached the green edge of the shore in order to see. The men and women aboard understood they could not disembark.
Between human and leonine eyes, a heavy-toned announcement reported a navigation error, even though the instruments confirmed the ship had arrived at the coastline of Norfolk. The helmsman held off for an hour until the captain, second officer, and third officer decided what to do. The land sank away as the ship drifted back into the sea and the mist. Mornings and nights passed into each other.
The vessel continued on for many days, yet all designated ports and harbors were the same untamed land. Small armed launches that went to explore did not return from the tangled beachheads.
Tidal currents surged, and the music became low. Once full of sound and certainty, the young and old in their locked cabin compartments now dreamed somberly about the feral shores: wilderness, mutant air, creatures stalking in the forests, powerlessness. There was no conquest of nature here. The officers and crew murmured.
Below deck, in the central galley, the kitchen lights were dim. Ovens and grills glowed; steamers hummed; and large stock pots simmered. A cook with a ladle stirred a mixture. Inside, the softening pieces shaped like something familiar turned and slid back in. Ocean water sprayed against the hull of the ship as it cut through the deep waves.