Fluke, Or, I Know Why the Winged Whale Sings by Christopher Moore Read Free Book Online Page B

superfluous to this operation yet. I'm kind of in charge. I can fire you. Then how will you live?"
    "I'm not getting paid."
    "See, right there. Perfectly good concept ruined by the application of fact."
    "So fire me." No longer
The Thinker,
Amy had taken on the aspect of a dark and evil elf.
    "I think they're communicating," Nate said.
    "Of course they're communicating, you maroon. You think they're singing because they like the sound of their own voices?"
    "There's more to it than that."
    "Well, tell me!"
    "Who calls someone a maroon? What the hell is maroon?"
    "It's a mook with a Ph.D. Don't change the subject."
    "It doesn't matter. Without the acoustic data I can't even show you what I was thinking. Besides, I'm not sure that my cognitive powers aren't breaking down."
    "Meaning what?"
    Meaning that I'm starting to see things,
he thought.
Meaning that despite the fact that you're yelling at me, I really want to grab you and kiss you,
he thought.
Oh, I am so fucked,
he thought. "Meaning I'm still a little hungover. I'm sorry. Let's see what we can put together from the notes."
    Amy slipped off the stool and gathered the field journals in her arms.
    "Where are you going?" Nate said. Had he somehow offended her?
    "We have four days to put together a lecture. I'm going to go to my cabin and do it."
    "How? On what?"
    "I'm thinking, 'Humpbacks: Our Wet and Wondrous Pals of the Deep — »
    "There's going to be a lot of researchers there. Biologists — " Nate interrupted.
    " - and Why We Should Poke Them with Sticks. »
    "Better," Nate said.
    "I got it covered," she said, and she walked out.
    For some reason he felt hopeful. Excited. Just for a second. Then, after he'd watched her walk out, a wave of melancholy swept over him and for the thirtieth time that day he regretted that he hadn't just become a pharmacist, or a charter captain, or something that made you feel more alive, like a pirate.
    * * *
    The old broad lived on a volcano and believed that the whales talked to her. She called about noon, and Nate knew it was her before he even answered. He knew, because she always called when it was too windy to go out.
    "Nathan, why aren't you out in the channel?" the Old Broad said.
    "Hello, Elizabeth, how are you today?"
    "Don't change the subject. They told me that they want to talk to you. Today. Why aren't you out there?"
    "You know why I'm not out there, Elizabeth. It's too windy. You can see the whitecaps as well as I can." From the slope of Haleakala, the Old Broad watched the activity in the channel with a two-hundred-power celestial telescope and a pair of "big eyes" binoculars that looked like stereo bazookas on precision mounts that were anchored into a ton of concrete.
    "Well, they're upset that you're not out there. That's why I called."
    "And I appreciate your calling, Elizabeth, but I'm in the middle of something."
    Nate hoped he didn't sound too rude. The Old Broad meant well. And they, in a way, were all at the mercy of her generosity, for although she had «donated» the Papa Lani compound, she hadn't exactly signed it over to them. They were in a sort of permanent lease situation. Elizabeth Robinson was, however, very generous and very kindhearted indeed, even if she was a total loon.
    "Nathan, I am not a total loon," she said.
    Oh yes you are,
he thought. "I know you're not," he said. "But I really have to get some work done today."
    "What are you working on?" Elizabeth asked. Nate could hear her tapping a pencil on her desk. She took notes during their conversations. He didn't know what she did with the notes, but it bothered him.
    "I have a lecture at the sanctuary in four days." Why, why had he told her? Why? Now she'd rattle down the mountain in her ancient Mercedes that looked like a Nazi staff car, sit in the audience, and ask all the questions that she knew in advance he couldn't answer.
    "That shouldn't be hard. You've done that before, what, twenty times?"
    "Yes, but someone broke in to the compound