But to whom? Reba lifted her head and looked across the bay. It was difficult to make out where the pod was swimming, but she could tell by the sounds of breaches and noise from their spray that they were somewhere near the entrance. For the briefest of moments, she fought an urge to follow them. She drew a long breath and exhaled. “Dot, I don’t believe that Saka’s saying goodbye. Rather, I think that he’s telling you he has found his family, and he knows where he belongs now.”
Dot stretched her arms over the top of Saka’s giant head, she could feel the clicking sonar reverberate between the orcas, cutting through the expansive bay. She pressed her cheek against his face and heard Saka’s heart pounding from deep inside his body. Dot felt as if her own heart was about to burst. She glanced up at Reba and whispered, “Do you honestly believe that, Skaukw?”
Reba smiled at the girl and her whale, then leaning outboard, extended her hand, “I do. I strongly believe it, Dot. Your whale has found his own kind and his place in this world. As have you, my dear girl. Now come, there are many people waiting for you.”
Saka gently lowered his head to the water’s surface and Dot swam back toward the tlúu. Reaching the hull, she grasped the chief’s outstretched hand. Reba helped Dot scramble into the cockpit as Táan and Kai’s boat drew alongside. Kai held the kayak still while Reba wrapped the heavy sweater around Dot’s trembling shoulders. Ooligan sculled her tlúu closer, bringing it to rest on the opposite side. She skillfully held them in place as Kim reached across the hull to take Dot’s hands between his own. The three kayaks remained rafted together as the companions watched Saka swim toward his pod. Before he submerged, the orca gave a resounding salute with his tail flukes before he disappeared underneath the swells.
After some time, Táan’s voice broke the silence, “Hey, Kij’—how about we go home now?”
Dot picked up her paddle, “Yeah, I think that sounds pretty good.”
Epilogue
HighTower-West Corporate. New Seattle WA. October 1. 2033
47°32'59.7"N 122°02'38.7"W
Electronic scraps rattled along the conveyor belt as they inched toward the furnace opening. A pair of robots scanned the components as they passed, identifying alloys and recording serial numbers. Automated mobile cranes with spindle-like pinchers swung back and forth between the belt and a towering scrap heap, delivering constant fuel to the incinerator as fragments of metal casings, processors, monitors and robotics tumbled onto the belt to be sorted by mechanical fingers. Amongst the pile of debris, lay a torso of an elite-model V29-30C administrative robot—mangled almost beyond recognition. Deep gashes in its synthetic covering left the internal display exposed, framework gaped from underneath the artificial facia, a titanium skeleton.
A buzzer rang and the conveyor shuddered to a stop. Objects on the belt vibrated as an overhead arm descended from the ceiling to pluck an item from the line, transporting it to a bin labeled “HSA contaminated waste.” The conveyor belt resumed and the scraps once again sprang into a rickety migration toward the inferno.
Jarred by the sudden movement, sensors in the administrative robot’s display panel began an erratic flicker, barely visible under the jangled mess of wiring and limbs. A faint red glow shone through the battered facial structure and digital characters—some with missing sections, read, “Priority message for Director A. Terrance: Revelations Project completed. Dr. Chen’s Aerosol delivery encryption has been resolved. Manufacturing of new batch is currently underway. Additional funding urgently required. Please respond—E. Han.”
The message continued flashing as the robot spilled into the hungry flames.
Acknowledgements
My profound thanks to the following individuals and organizations for their invaluable help in shaping the world of my novel:
George Dyson, author and historian, for sharing his unique sail design for Inuit baidarkas. The stories, photographs and nautical charts of his adventures in Alaska and the Inside Passage provided great insight into my heroes’ journey.
Julie Ross-Buckmaster, Sehome high-school biology teacher, who instilled a passion for the physical sciences in my youngest daughter and helped me to better understand the CRISPR-CAS-9 enzyme—setting me on the path toward Kim Chen’s frightening discovery.
Dr. Chris Goldfinger, Marine geologist and sub-marine seismologist at Oregon State University, who (patiently) answered my many questions about the Cascadia-subduction zone mega-quake. (Our conversations convinced me to research all possible evacuation routes before visiting the Pacific Northwest Coast ever again).
John Gossman, technology architect, for his sage advice on all things computer and technology based—and for an astonishing ability to make a mean Old Fashioned.
Paul R. Peterson, CEO of Volta Volare' and Executive Director of the EViation Center at the Evergreen Aviation & Space Museum, for taking the time to explain drone technology and the future of flight to a curious writer. Thanks for the personal tour and resources.
Gary Gero, Animal Consultant and bird trainer, whose friendship, support and advice on corvids helped me bring Monk the raven to life.
The language facilitators at Sealaska Heritage Institute, Ketchikan Indian Community and the Museum of Anthropology for editing the phrases used by, and the spirit behind, my Haida characters.
My editors, Mary Gillilan and Norman L. Green, and fellow authors at Independent Writers’ Studio, for their advice and encouragement.
And to Jeffery, for never doubting me.
About the Author
Christine Wallace is a Pacific Northwest author. Her published books include The Pocket Doula and Prepare to Come About. In 2002, Christine founded Gracewinds Perinatal Services, a nationally multi-award winning business in Seattle, Washington. In addition to her writing career, she is a painter, homebrewer and grandmother and currently holds a 200-ton ITC captain’s license. Christine and her husband live aboard a 94-year old ex-BC forestry boat, in which they explore the waters of the Salish Sea and Inside Passage as often as possible.
You can contact the author through her website at windlinepress.net
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