The Wandering Island Factory by TR Nowry Page B

behind schedule. The winds just weren't cooperating, even those hundreds of feet up where the parasail could reach just weren't holding up their end of the bargain.
    Jason ran down from working the sails, "Wow, he's a beaut, girls!"
    Ava held it by the tail and fin as Gina gutted it on the stern.
    Jason moved to the hand crank and started pumping seawater past the desalination filters, yet another one of the boat's features that had to be done manually whenever it was moving under twenty knots.
    Gina glared at him while she sliced deeper into its flesh, liberating the large steaks first, easily another thirty pounds to offer. She had been promised an experience much different than all of this. The weather was hot and salty, the air was always humid, and the breeze from that ever-forward motion offered little to no relief. The only breaks from the misery were in the cool of the night and the relatively bug free nature of living at sea.
    "Ok, ok, I get it," Jason said as he pedaled the pump, "I thought we would be there by now—"
    She pointed the knife at him, "You promised, one month, two at the most."
    Ava scooped the liberated guts into the bait bucket, "Nobody can control the weather, Gina. We all agreed to this."
    "Stay out of this," Gina said, shifting her glare to her little sister.
    "We've been without radio for months," Ava said. "We don't know what's—"
    "Not at night," Gina corrected, "AM fades in and out, you get five minutes of clarity every half hour, and it doesn't sound like Hawaii sank into the ocean or anything. All I've heard is the same old normal talk shows about sports and politics."
    Jason stopped pedaling, "I never said Hawaii was going to sink. The oceans were rising and submerging more of the coasts under water. Very different— Look, I'm not trying to argue with you, and I don't know how me complimenting you on a fine catch turned into—"
    "I never signed on for this, Jason. We were miles inland, we had time. Years. And there's no way that any government, no matter how incompetent and misguided, would let another New Orleans happen to Hawaii. We could have been evacuated in full FEMA style."
    "Yeah, but you wouldn't have gotten anything for all your submerged TVs and computers and stuff—"
    "And just what are we supposed to get for this malfunctioning tub? Huh?" Gina stabbed the shark, then sliced off its fin. "You were had, ain't nobody interested in buying some piece of junk like this. I doubt you'll get a peso, let alone enough for a ticket anywhere."
    Jason started pedaling again, "We still have some cash and credit cards, and don't forget the hundreds you got for your Honda—"
    "I can't believe I quit my job and sold my car for this!" Gina stormed into the metal sea-box.
    Ava finished slicing up the meat. "She's just mad, Jason. She doesn't take changes very well. Never has. This flipped her whole world upside down. It'll take a little more than a few months for her to adjust." She started on the little bite-sized slices in the tail. "Hell, I'm not even half as crazy, and I haven't halfway adjusted."
    Jason pedaled faster. . . not that it helped.

    The stern generator fell far short of enough power to filter water or assist in sailing, but it was plenty to run the small array of lights inside, run a CD player, power a laptop for a few hours, keep the GPS charged, and run the small radio.
    Jason took over steering the ship that night.
    The parasail was more complicated to manage than an ordinary sail with a mast, but it was far more efficient too. Especially for something of its size. Not only were the winds stronger up there, but placing the sail hundreds of feet in front of the ship offered a kind of leverage that masts couldn't touch.
    A simple rope with tassels extended down from the sail and was his most trusted guide for wind speeds and directions. This night, they were approaching twenty knots for the first time since they left Hawaii. It wouldn't last and he struggled to keep the sail