CHAPTER 30
“Aaagh,” Jason said, reading the text message.
“What’s up?” Elisa said, worried. “Do not doubt me when I say if there is anything I can do to help I will. And I do mean anything at all, just ask.”
“Arm candy?” Jason said, then frowned. “Sorry.”
“I make spectacular arm candy,” Elisa said. “I am highly trained, prepared and I’m more than glad to do so. For what?”
Elisa had mentioned being both charm trained, “over two thousand hours,” as well as having done pageants.
He’d never dated a pageant queen before.
“I have to go back to the station . . . pretty soon,” Jason said. “There’s stuff building up. Business. That I can’t do in bits and snatches between having the time of my life. This is remarkably fun.”
“Life should be fun,” Elisa said, taking his arm and leaning under it. “But life should also be about doing, not just enjoying. There’s time enough for love as a team. Which business? Space Ship Four? The mine? Brandywine?”
Jason had been open during their many conversations, because they had been talking, about his plans and ideas. He’d, frankly, told her a billion credits’ worth of ideas, not that any of them were guaranteed.
“We’re opening the event space,” Jason said. “We’re not calling it a restaurant because there’s not enough money in the economy to open one of those. But people who want to get together for business dinners, things like that. Weddings. Funerals. People need a place they can get together as groups to eat and drink. That’s a human thing. There’s a soft opening coming up. I need to be there. Then there’s all the other stuff we’ve talked about. The ships, the factories, the mine . . . I’d rather be here with you, doing this. Just . . . enjoying.”
“When’s the opening?”
“Two weeks?” Jason said.
“Whatever shall we do?”
“I’ve, occasionally, been thinking about that,” Jason said. “We need to harvest some of the yellowfin as well as the crayfish. Not to mention there’s all the other edible fish species that are collectible.”
Once the crayfish collection method had been established, Jason had ordered more gear and scattered it around the islands. By using the flying bikes, they could travel all around the scattered islands and check on how things were going as well as resolve any issues the drones, bots and AIs could not.
“Protein for the station,” Elisa said. “Collecting them by hunting is fun, don’t get me wrong, but we need a way to bring them in consistently. Have I mentioned that my family used to be in commercial fishing as well as the other businesses?”
“You did,” Jason said.
“I’ve been out on commercial fishing boats,” Elisa said. “Not for long trips but I do know the general outline. Best way to catch yellowfin, commercially, is you purse seine the shoals then hook them aboard.”
“Lots of flex,” Jason said thoughtfully. “Also uses large boats. Long lines?”
“Lots of baiting,” Elisa said. “Can flex handle that?”
“Yes,” Jason said.
“Also large boats, though,” Elisa said. “And there’s storage issues. Unless you can load them into stasis, you’re going to need refrigeration. Is it ‘we’ are going to or ‘you’ are going to?”
“Jewel, can you sign Elisa up as a harvest contractor?” Jason said.
“You’re the senior partner,” Jewel said. “You can hire anyone you want.”
“Put her on contract as a harvester and commercial fishing consultant,” Jason said. “And send a note to Tim or whoever it should go to that we need some consultants on commercial fishing ventures. Marine biologists, that sort of thing.”
“That’s already being done,” Jewel said.
“Whatever we land, you’re now making money from it,” Jason said. “I should have done that a while back. I’ve got issues with fraternization with employees, though. I’m not sure this is a good idea.”
“It was the fraternization then the employee,” Elisa said. “I hope it doesn’t interfere with either one.”
“Shouldn’t,” Jason said. “To landing tuna. We’ll test this small, first.”
“What are you thinking?” Elisa said.
“Worked an albacore boat in Oregon one time,” Jason said, thinking about how to integrate flexmet into the process. “You threw out hand lines behind the boat. When an albacore hooked you brought it in, fast, then flipped it up into the catch area, threw the line back out. Repeat. Hard on the hands, hard on the shoulders, line got tangled up if you looked at it wrong. Decent not great money. Tuna aren’t brilliant and they’re always hungry. They’ll go for just about any sort of lure. Something that looks like a feather.”
Jason picked up some flexmet and formed it into a large hook with a couple of feathery-looking things just above the hook.
“Add a weight to keep it below the surface.” Jason hunted around till he spotted a small rock and added it to the flexmet line, shaping a torpedo shape with the rock in the center. The line now ran to the torpedo weight then to the feathers which extended to near the top of the flex hook. He added barbs to the hook. “That, right there, might just hook one.”
“No time like the present to find out,” Elisa said, jumping to her feet.
Jason looked at the view from that angle then sighed and stood up as well.
“Slave driver,” Jason said.
“I wanna catch more tuna,” Elisa said. “Then . . . you know. Then catch more fish. Then you know, then . . . ”
“Lather, rinse repeat,” Jason said, grinning. “But for this, we’re gonna need a boat.”
* * *
A boat similar to the one Jason had designed for crayfish harvesting worked well enough. An Alfred could fly it out to the hunting area but would probably have to drive it back on the water.
Jason stood on the boat, controlling it through a thin strand, as it coasted just above the waves. He’d chosen the channel down the caldera as the first test. Tuna were running through the area chasing schools of mackerel, a viable food in itself, and it should do for a test. Later they’d move the test out into the open Pallas Ocean.
“Your two o’clock,” Elisa called. She was riding the air-bike and spotting, though that could be done by drones.
Jason increased power to the Alfred and turned to two o’clock, then mentally deployed the line.
There was a high, flexible pole behind him with a line of flex running out the back of the boat. The boat was only big enough to hold two coffins which were collapsed. The transom of the boat, as with the crayfish boat, was at water level.
As he headed toward the tuna, he got the tingle that he’d developed through Jewel to note when there was tension on the line. Looking aft, it was apparent there was a tuna already caught. The fish were everywhere.
He mentally commanded the flex to retract, quickly but not so fast as to pull the hook out of the fish’s mouth. Just speeding it up through the water.
Tuna would normally sound, fighting from side to side to try to escape the hook. But when they were hooked to a fast-moving boat, their own shape made them turn to follow the boat, unable to fight. The tuna was drawn in by the flex line, up the sloped back of the boat and into the coffin. It barely fit end to end.
Jason had the hook retract from the fish’s mouth then slither back out into the water.
As he was casting the second line out the first one got another hit. Two of the yellowfin filled a coffin.
“We’re gonna need a bigger boat,” Jason muttered.
* * *
“That was fun,” Jason said, flopping on the beach.
Fishing and blue-water hunting for tuna were fun. But so were other pursuits. Both Elisa and Jason were beggared for choice in the matter. As the afternoon wore on, jungle love had won the argument vice spearfishing.
“You, my good sir, are possibly waaay too experienced for a sheltered girl from Charleston,” Elisa said, leaning her head on his chest.
“That wasn’t experience,” Jason replied, looking up at the sky. “That was more like fantasy. It’s times like this that I wonder if I’m dying of a stroke.”
“Similar,” Elisa said. “This is way too much fun to be real. You’re way too much fun to be real.”
“Hmmm . . . ” Jason hummed.
“Are you going to sleep on me?” Elisa said, prodding his stomach.
“No,” Jason said, working his eyes. Not at all. “Just . . . what do you think about the Constitution? Should we ratify it?”
“You want to talk politics?” Elisa asked.
“Under the shade of a palm tree, maybe?” Jason replied.
“Shade sounds good.”
* * *
“That stigma about being a pageant queen has passed to an extent,” she continued. “So, I was planning on running for a school board then moving up to, probably, state senator at most. Now . . . ? Now I’m back to wondering what I’m going to do when I grow up.”
“Was there going to be . . . family in there?” Jason asked carefully.
“My idol is Justice Barrett,” she said, referring to a conservative Supreme Court justice who had seven children. “But . . . then again, the power behind the throne is an allure. And it would allow more time for kids and more kids . . . ”
She looked at Jason sideways for a second.
“What do you think about . . . kids,” she asked.
“In that I’m pro-choice,” Jason said. “As in, your body, your choice. Though I’m not big on abortion.”
“How many would you . . . like?” Elisa asked.
“That’s serious territory,” Jason said. “But we’ve already jumped over that line long ago. Honesty? ’Cause it’s a simple answer but complex as well.”
“Honesty,” Elisa said.
“I’m old,” Jason said. “You gotta remember that. Most guys, from a relationship, dating, romantic, sexual, point of view, never get over being this age, twentyish, no matter how old they actually are.
“Women tend to pick themselves apart as they get older, looking at every gray hair, every wrinkle line. They know they’re not twenty anymore. Men put on a clean shirt and they think they’re Clark Gable. So, guys have a hard time realizing that they are. Getting older that is. That’s why older guys can be creepy. They can’t quite grasp that they’re not twenty anymore and what might have been okay when they were twenty isn’t okay when they’re fifty.”
“That does happen,” Elisa said, sighing. “Yeah.”
“And you think you’ve got all the time in the world,” Jason continued, looking off into the distance. “I wanted to have kids since I was actually twenty. Glad I didn’t with She Who Must Not Be Named. Monica wanted to hold off until we were financially solvent and, at least in part because of me, that never realized. Or maybe she didn’t want any. She and Richard never had kids. Hard to tell with Monica. She’s a very skillful liar.”
“Bitch,” Elisa said.
“So, I wanted kids,” he said. “But whatever some of the crazies might say, I can’t have them myself. And as I got older, the more and more intense the desire became. Minor when I was in my twenties. By this age? I’d like to have all the kids. Big family.”
“That . . . works,” Elisa said.
“Flip side,” Jason said. “My internal editor of fatherhood. My dad was . . . a revolving SOB to us growing up. I don’t want to be my dad. Kids need discipline and you can’t always tell them they’re the best of all the kids in the world and they can do no wrong. But . . . they need some positive reinforcement. Sometimes? Occasionally?”
“Not much positive reinforcement growing up?” Elisa said.
“Growing up?” Jason said, looking out at the reef. “I was the only one of the three sons who visited him when he was in hospice from cancer. Me and my mom. That was it. And he was a revolving SOB every time I visited. Mom made excuses. He’s in a lot of pain. I told her I couldn’t tell; he was pretty much just being Dad.”
“Ouch,” Elisa said.
“Mom mentioned at one point that she was sure that Steve and Kevin would come visit, soon,” Jason said, blowing out. “Dad’s response was that he never wanted to see that ‘faggot’ again in his life. And Steve had ‘important things to do.’ Unlike ‘this useless jackass.’ Referring to me.”
“Oh!” Elisa said, shaking her head. “Oh, my God! Ow!”
“I think we’ve gotten to the point that’s not oversharing,” Jason said, taking a deep breath. “Thing is, it wasn’t the worst thing my dad ever said to me. So, getting back to the subject of kids, I don’t know if I know how to be a dad that’s not . . . that. It’s what’s got me worried.”
“Do you like kids?” Elisa asked.
“Love ’em,” Jason said. “What I’ve had to do with them. Even if you’re close to people, and I haven’t tended to be real close, they tend to look askance at a bachelor that’s into children. But, yeah, I do. I want kids for playmates. I want to teach them about the outdoors. Hunting, fishing, tracking. This,” he added, waving. “I don’t want to be ‘Cat’s in the Cradle,’ much less my dad.”
“Reference?” Elisa asked.
“Song from the seventies about how fathers and sons tend to grow up similar,” Jason said. “Also, that they don’t spend enough time with each other. I want to spend time with my kids. I’m way more into this than hunting, being honest.”
“I am scuba qualified for a reason,” Elisa said.
“So . . . that’s me,” Jason said, looking at her. “But if we’re this serious, I repeat. Your body, your choice. And you’re a single child from a comfortable family. I’m fine if you only want one or . . . two?”
“So, me,” Elisa said. “First, I think you’d be a great dad. I really do. I don’t believe you’d be like your father. You’ve . . . never even been negative to me at all. In any way. And we’ve been here a week. You’d have started to get . . . picky by now if you were that way. Was he like that with your mom?”
“Oh, yeah,” Jason said.
“So that’s not who you are,” Elisa said. “You’re not your father. I don’t think there’s a mean bone in you.”
“Thank you?” Jason said. “I do consider that a compliment. But . . . I do have a bad side. Just hasn’t been a reason for it to come out, here. And it’s not ever going to be directed at you. Just . . . I’ve got one. I’ve been in more than my share of fights. Partially because of the life I worked. Hell, I was a bouncer one time.”
“You left that off the list,” Elisa said, grinning.
“I was mostly a cooler,” Jason said. “I cooled people down. The last thing you want is to have to actually get in a fight. Too many hassles. You were talking.”
“You’re not your dad,” Elisa repeated. “I think you’d make a great dad. Which has always been an important consideration for me when it comes to . . . a mate.”
“Mate,” Jason said with a grin. “There may be some mating.”
“Are we going to have this conversation?” Elisa said. “’Cause I’m getting to where I’m at.”
“Sorry.”
“Yes, my family has a multigenerational history of small families,” Elisa said. “But . . . call it internet influence or something. You know that satirical Christian newsletter from before Transfer? ‘David tired of being compared to President Spade’?”
“‘Climber recovering in hospital after deciding to let go and let God,’” Jason said, laughing. “My favorite headline.”
“I started reading it when I was young,” Elisa said. “Like, eight or nine. It was always clean and wholesome so my parents didn’t mind. Dad got me hooked on it.”
“You’ve got a great dad, then,” Jason said.
“I do, I really do,” Elisa said, rubbing his shoulder. “But the thing is, they were always talking about these homeschoolers with big families. ‘Overachieving homeschool family reforms small Third World country while on mission trip.’”
“I never saw that one,” Jason said.
“It was a user headline,” Elisa said, looking shamefaced. “I submitted it and they used it. And I got to looking into it. Going on forums and blogs, that sort of thing. And I just . . . got into it. I’d decided by the time I was thirteen that I wanted to be that lady. The homeschool mom with, like, forty kids.”
“Forty,” Jason said, raising his eyebrows. “Well . . . it’s going to take a lot of . . . exercise on my part . . . ”
“That’s part of it,” Elisa said seriously. “You talked about how Monica was the perfect housewife. I have the same instinct? Drive? I’ve got it. I’ll take care of it. But . . . it helps to have a husband who’s not constantly distracted by the TV.”
“I rarely watch it,” Jason said, shrugging. “And I obviously know how to cook. Even for large numbers. Worked in an industrial kitchen in high school. I still remember Rona’s stroganoff recipe . . . ”
“My job,” Elisa said. “I’ve got the house. You just need to find the money to support it.”
“Well . . . ” Jason said. “Easy enough to feed them. When they’re old enough we just send them out to collect their own . . . ” he added, gesturing at the lagoon.
“I’m serious,” Elisa said. And it was clear she was.
“I will find the money,” Jason said. “For as many as you want. And while it was joking, it was also somewhat serious. We could have a house here. Or somewhere else. Your call. With enough drones and dogs, the kids can run around in forests and we won’t have to worry about them being eaten by bears.”
“Building a house down here . . . ?” Elisa said, frowning. “I’m not worried about the animals. There are ways to defend against them, right? I guess there are plenty of people in construction who are out of work but . . . Where are you going to find the materials?”
“Wood?” Jason said, gesturing at the forest behind them. “So, story from here I hadn’t told, I just realized. My birthday was about a month ago and my AI decided I needed a birthday present . . . ”
Jason told the story of Jewel making him a house for his birthday.
“That’s one cool AI,” Elisa said, smiling. “Jewel, you are a jewel.”
“Thank you,” Jewel said, coming on the screen and dimpling.
“Clearly, building houses with this tech isn’t a huge deal,” Jason said. “It’s mostly a matter of having the right materials although fixtures are an issue. So, I’m designing a house.”
“Really?” Elisa said carefully. “What kind? How big?”
“Pretty big,” Jason said. “The design is based, sort of, on southern plantation home style. Victorian era. Not neoclassic like Mount Vernon. Pretty big because I hoped to find a lady who wanted a large family and assumed we’d have visitors. I’ve . . . started getting into some fairly big business and that probably means visitors to the house for business reasons.”
“Business,” Elisa said. “Politics.”
“Thing is, I’m not great at social,” Jason said, shrugging. “Sales calls, taking people out to dinner, sure. I have never thrown a party.”
“Ever?” Elisa said.
“I have never invited more than a D&D group over to my space for a social event,” Jason said. “And D&D games don’t count. And, yes, I used to play D&D.”
“Okay,” Elisa said, smiling.
“Is that a deal breaker?” Jason asked.
“Never played it,” Elisa said. “But I’ve read The Silmarillion if that helps.”
“The whole thing?” Jason asked, boggling. “That’s masochistic.”
“I was in a Tolkien phase,” Elisa said. “And as to parties, I’m a trained party planner and organizer. I like organizing parties. I like hosting parties. Again, I’ve got it.”
“I love you,” Jason blurted. “Oops. I said it.”
“I love you, too,” Elisa said, leaning in. “There. I said it too.”
“The question is where to put the house?” Jason said. “I’d prefer northern temperate. Cool summers, snowy winters, probably very wet summer and fall. Sort of the weather of Maryland crossed with central England.”
“That sounds nice,” Elisa said, curling up even more. “Big fireplaces?”
“Fireplaces are a must,” Jason said. “There are some nice areas in southern Chindia from what I’ve heard. Haven’t been there, yet. But I’ve been to America Nova and I really like the biome. I haven’t taken the time to go to the area I’m thinking about but . . . I’d like a really nice view of America Mons to the northwest.”
“Out the front?” Elisa asked. “That’s a better choice. You want your most protected side to the northwest and your open side to the southeast. At least in northern latitudes.”
“Yes,” Jason said. “That. Most of the area around the house would be cleared with gardens and lawns. But I want to leave a trio of the big trees in the backyard . . . ”
“Great place for a gathering,” Elisa said.
“And about a hundred acres of the old forest,” Jason added. “Fifty hectares. Something along those lines. Close enough to the house it’s an easy walk.”
“For the kids to play in,” Elisa said. “‘Out of the house! Don’t come home till the safety light comes on!’”
“Safety light?” Jason said.
“Southernism?” Elisa said. “Most rural southern homes have a streetlight nearby. It’s called a safety light. That’s what my Gramma called it.”
“Ah. That. About two hundred acres around the house that’s . . . estate . . . ”
“Bridle paths,” Elisa said. “Stables?”
“Horses are going to be in short supply for a while,” Jason said then looked thoughtful. “Though ponies might be a thing in the reasonably near future.”
“Breed ponies to wild horses?” Elisa asked. “Why not just wild horses?”
“They’re about the size of ponies, anyway,” Jason said. “And their withers can’t support the weight of even a full-grown woman. Larger horses will be tough. They’ll have to be sized up over generations. Assuming the breeding program even works as I’ve envisioned.”
“So far, so good,” Elisa said. “I’m liking everything I’m hearing so far.”
“Okay, we gotta get up.”
“Spoilsport,” Elisa said, taking his hand for a lift. “Now? Why?”
Jason unwound his phone from his arm, stretched it to its maximum then attached it to a convenient palm tree.
“I didn’t know they could do that,” Elisa said quizzically.
“These things are the bomb,” Jason said. “Jewel, bring up the 3D of the proposed house.”
When the 3D schematic was up, Jason started pointing out features he’d been designing in his spare time.
“Study slash library and parlor,” Jason said. “Great hall entry.”
“The parlor had better have shelves for books, too,” Elisa said. “In the old days, women weren’t expected to read. I read.”
“There’s . . . some?” Jason said. “Jewel . . . ”
“Plenty of bookshelves,” Jewel said. “Inset millwork.”
“She just added them,” Adam interjected.
“Tattletale. Snitches get stitches.”
“I haven’t really done a lot with the interior to be honest,” Jason said. “And I’m probably going to find a home designer to go over it and improve it. Den behind the study. Fireplace. Electronics. Also called a winter room.”
“We’re not going to need the fireplace,” Elisa said. “We’ll have one, but we’ll have to open the windows . . . ”
Jason gave her a quizzical glance.
“As many kids as we’re going to have in there watching the first run of some movie . . . ?” Elisa said. “They’re going to be putting off all the heat we’ll need.”
“Point,” Jason said. “Large dining room behind that, mostly leading to the grand foyer. Big kitchen that’s right off the dining room. With the stove facing out to a bar . . . ”
“Why?” Elisa asked.
“Everybody always wants to congregate in the kitchen at parties,” Jason said. “I haven’t hosted them but I’ve been to them. And this way people can talk with the cook but stay out of the way.”
“Ooo,” Elisa said. “Good thought.”
“Not original,” Jason said. “Big dining room. Outdoors cooking area. Grills and a barbeque.”
“Important distinction,” Elisa said.
“Pool,” Jason said.
“Only useable part of the year,” Elisa pointed out.
“Very useful for wearing out the rug rats in summer,” Jason said. “And this is intended as the summer home.”
“Winter home in the Graham Islands?” Elisa said, grinning.
“Different design, though,” Jason said. “And less worry about feeding them . . . ”
“‘Get out of the house!’” Elisa said in a sharp, grandmother tone. “And don’t come back till you’ve found dinner! There’d better be enough for everybody!’”
“You’re going to be one of those moms, huh?” Jason said, grinning.
“Truthfully, I want to be the Kool-Aid mom,” Elisa said. “I had to look that up. But that’s exactly what I intend to be. My mom was.”
“Nice view out the back,” Jason said. “Woods, fields. Zero-edge pool. And a zero-edge hot tub.”
“I could live in a house like that,” Elisa admitted grudgingly. “Upstairs?”
“Centralized master suite,” Jason said. “Rear side leading out to the balcony which is the top of the outdoor cooking area. Big bathroom. Big walk-in closets. Parlor area overlooking the pool. Girls’ and boys’ wings. Largest bedrooms closest to the master suite which would be the guest bedrooms.”
“If it comes to that, we can exile the little heathens to the attic,” Elisa said. “If we run out of room. We need a nursery off the bedroom.”
“Point,” Jason said, adjusting the model.
“Where’s the music room?” Elisa asked. “Needs to be sound-proofed. Screeching violins and misplayed piano notes will otherwise become unbearable.”
“Have at it,” Jason said, waving at the screen and smiling.
Elisa stood back and put her hands on her hips.
“Are we so serious we are seriously designing a house?” she asked. “Together.”
“Are we?” Jason asked. “Because I am.”
“Then we are,” Elisa said, nodding. “I love your rough sketch. But can I send it to a home designer I know? I love his work and I think he’d like this. But I don’t know the ins and outs, either.”
“Absolutely,” Jason said.
“And can it be a bit bigger?” Elisa asked.
“With how I’m planning on building it, it can be as big as you want,” Jason said.
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“I’m too young to be having a stroke,” Elisa said, looking at him. “I love your politics. I love that you want to have a big family. That you’re . . . you. Everything about you.”
“Me too?” Jason said. “It’s weird. It’s perfect.”
“Hah!” Jewel snapped.
“Hah?” Jason said. They both looked at the screen where Adam and Jewel had appeared side by side.
“Jewel!” Adam interjected.
“Who’s the best, Jason?” Jewel asked. “Chime in any time, Adam.”
“You really think I’d have let you go away on a tropical getaway with someone who wasn’t perfect for you, Elisa?” Adam asked with an aggrieved tone. “My duty is to watch out for you.”
“You two are too smug,” Elisa said, waggling her finger at the screen.
“You even have the same taste in art and architecture,” Jewel whispered. “Adam’s collection of the southern houses in Better Homes and Gardens houses you’d lingered on? My collection of Jason’s replies and likes to architecture posts? I still say you should have gone with Queen Anne and when you send it to . . . Paul Colegrove, right?”
“Yes,” Elisa said, pursing her lips.
“I’ll point out the Queen Anne designs Jason was looking at,” Jewel said. “Jason, Paul Colegrove was The Old House.”
“You’re kidding,” Jason said.
“The Old House?” Elisa asked.
“He used to post photos of old buildings,” Jason said. “I admit to having a Twitter account. He was part of the thread about humans must have been visited by aliens at one point who built all these beautiful old buildings. Because after a certain point, architecture went to hell and everything looked like hell. So, it had to be aliens.”
“It’s actually because of the influence of Frankfurt School,” Elisa said disgustedly.
“Oh, my God,” Jason said. “How did you even know that?”
“I hate Frankfurt School,” Elisa said. “And postmodernist. Everything about it. The architecture. The art.”
“Well, except for . . . ”
“Except for . . . ”
“Jackson Pollock,” they both said together then looked at each other.
“Marry me,” they both said simultaneously.