Page 7

5This is a very hurtful comment.

6Inappropriate.

7What a cynical take!

8Have you showed this essay to Cora? What do you think she would say about it?

9Please see me after class.

Interstitial

Again: stay flexible, stay focused, and always be ready to shift.

Chapter 3 Signy, Fortune

The ferry was delayed. There’d been some announcement involving a cargo barge and a schedule mix-up that Signy only half listened to before turning her radiobuds back up. She wasn’t bothered by the possibility of the shop opening late. The shop was hers and hers alone, and in the unlikely event that a customer desperately needed to buy one of her wares the second she unlocked the door, they could find a café to wait in until she arrived. She wasn’t stressed about someone else’s schedule, as many of the cranky, fidgeting people alongside her were. What was annoying was that by now, it was after nine o’clock, which meant for the time being, she didn’t have music to drown the boat noise out. At nine o’clock, there was only the news.

“We begin today’s reporting with an update from the Northshore water purification project, which continues to suffer setbacks arising from engineering challenges and material shortages. The latest report conducted by the Resource Management Bureau predicts that at the current pace of construction, the Northshore plant will not meet its completion goal this year. City government support for the project has been divided from the start, and opposition to the—”

Signy tapped her left radiobud to change the station.

“—among the protesters were families of the electrical workers lost in the Rocky Bank incident, who—”

Signy gave another tap.

“—run down? Feeling low? Start your day with a shot of Fuzz Buzz, the only caffeine supplement with added—”

Tap.

“—cup of—ch—in th—mix with—en minutes—”

Tap.

“—absolute nonsense to think, as the Reform bloc does, that wasting such a staggering amount of metal on a project that will never—”

Tap.

“—percent chance of rain after ten o’clock tonight, so folks, make plans to cozy up with your radio and your favorite serials. Again, that’s ten o’clock tonight. You know the drill. Stay sheltered, stay safe. This cloud formation should be well out of our hair by tomor—”

“Oh god, oh—oh, fuck, help—”

Signy tapped her right bud twice in quick succession, silencing the playback. She turned, along with the rest of the passengers, toward a small commotion on the other side of the passenger bay. There were too many people; she couldn’t see what was happening. All she could glean was the sound of a man panicking, and strangers following suit.

“Buddy, where’s your canister? Buddy—”

“Ah, jesus—”

“Hey, man, hold your breath, just hold your breath—”

“Who’s got tape?”

“Honey, don’t look at him. No, look at me, honey, don’t look—”

Signy reached for the emergency cord strung along the bulkhead behind her, but someone else pulled it half a second before she could. Blue lights turned on throughout the passenger bay, silent and still, a signal to sit tight and remain calm. Beneath the growing swell of voices, Signy heard the panicked man begin to choke, and her stomach sank as context clicked. Something was wrong with his breathing mask. Signy had taken first aid many a time and possessed the skill to help until real help arrived, but so, too, did a lot of people—including, presumably, the person now screaming “Who’s got some fucking tape?!” A war broke out between people trying to get a look, people telling those people to back off, and people trying to get away from the situation due to the understandable fact that nobody wanted to start their day by watching someone die. And so Signy stayed exactly where she was.

The crew door opened and the ferry’s standard pair of medics came racing in. “Clear a path!” one of them shouted in a tone very practiced in giving that command. The crowd parted, some people jumping up on their seats to move aside. Signy didn’t move, because she didn’t have to. Sometimes, out of the way was the most useful place to be.

Other sounds cut through the din. The clicks and beeps of medical equipment, the wet rattle of air passing through a rebelling throat, a steady litany of instructions recited to the patient. There were murmurs, swearing. Onlookers talking too fast about nothing. Someone laughed nervously; at least three others told them to shut the fuck up. A young child started to cry. An adult did the same.