Chapter 71 Chapter Four

Mike drove the Huoying Flying Carpet straight to the first station from the east.The flying carpet traveled in the dark for over an hour, and I spent most of it curled up, sheltered from the wind, waiting for the flying carpet to suddenly wind up and dump us both into the sea.When the first mobile island came into view, we were still half an hour away.From their hunting grounds to the south, the islands scrambled with the storm, the sails billowing like a billow, in a seemingly endless line.Many things are shining brightly, and there are lights and festoons everywhere, with multicolored lanterns and spider gauze light sources that change colors.

"Are you sure you live here?" I yelled. "Okay," Mike yelled.He didn't look back.The long black hair was blown against my face by the wind.He checked the compass from time to time and slightly adjusted the course direction.Maybe it's cheaper to follow these small islands.We passed one—a big one, some half a kilometer long—and I tried my best to make out it, but the island was dark except for a little phosphorescent wake.There are many dark shadows weaving between the milky white waves.I tapped Mike on the shoulder and showed him. "Dolphins!" he called. "That's what this colony was all about, remember? A bunch of quixotic reformers in exile trying to save the mammals of the Old Seas. It failed miserably."

I was about to ask another question aloud, but at that moment the cape and the port of first stop came into view. I used to think the nights in Maui were starry.I used to think that the colorful appearance of Houdao would be unforgettable for a lifetime.But the first port, surrounded by harbors and mountains, turns into a shining lighthouse at night.Its brilliance reminded me of a torch ship. I once watched the plasma beam ejected from it, dragging a long line at the edge of the huge dim tail gas, reflecting its brightness, like a nova erupting.The city is a five-story white honeycomb complex, illuminated inside and out by lanterns and countless torches that glow warmly.The white lava rocks quarried from the volcanic island also seem to glow in the city lights.Above the city were tents, pavilions, bonfires, hearths, and huge roaring fires, too big to be of any use except as a welcome to the returning island.

The port is full of ships: catamarans floating up and down with cowbells jingling on the mast, and giant flat-bottomed houseboats move slowly between ports in the calm equatorial shallow sea on weekdays, but tonight there are strings of colored lights shining proudly , and a speedboat temporarily out to sea, smooth and swift, like a shark.A lighthouse perched at the end of the pincer-shaped reef of the pier threw its light far out to sea, illuminating the waves and islands, and then swept back to drown out the colorful boats and people bouncing up and down. Even though we were two kilometers away, we heard the noise.The sounds of the crowd celebrating can be clearly heard.Among the shouts and the constant rustling of the rising waves, I could clearly make out the notes of Bach's flute sonatas.I later learned that the welcoming chorus was relayed through hydrophones into the Passage Strait, where dolphins soared to the music.

"My God, Mike, how do you know this is happening?" "I retrieved the master computer on the ship," Mike said.The Eagle Flying Carpet turned to the right again, so that we were far away from the beams of those ships and lighthouses.Then we weaved north of our first stop toward a dark headland.I heard the soft lapping of Wang Wan in front of me. "They celebrate it every year," Mike went on, "but today is their 150th anniversary. The party has been going on for three weeks and the plan is to go on for another two weeks. There are only twenty Ten thousand colonists, Meren, I bet half of them are here for the party."

We gradually slowed down, flew carefully into the predetermined location, and landed on an outcropping rock not far from the beach.The storm passed us to the south, but the horizon was still discernible with intermittent lightning and the glow of the advancing island.In front of us, the first station standing on the hill was dazzling, but it did not hide the starlight above our heads.The air is warmer here, and I catch a hint of orchard scent in the breeze.After folding the Huo Ying flying carpet, we quickly put on the clown costumes.Mike tucked his laser pointer and jewelry into baggy pockets.

"What's that for?" I asked, and we hid the backpack and the Huoying Flying Carpet under a huge boulder. "Are these things?" Mike asked, dangling a revival necklace in front of my eyes with his fingers hooked. "If we see something good, this is a coin for bargaining." "nice one?" "Good stuff," Mike repeated, "women's favor. How nice that is for a weary sailor. Good luck finding the chick, man." "Oh," I said, adjusting my mask and silly hat.Bells rang softly in the dark. "Come on," Mike said, "or you'll miss the party." I nodded and followed him, walking cautiously through the rocks and bushes to the lights that awaited us, jingling bells.

I sit in the sun and wait.I don't quite understand what I'm waiting for.The morning sun reflected off the white stones of Siri's tomb, and I felt warmth gathering on my back. Siri's... tomb? There is no cloud in the sky.I raised my head and squinted at the sky, as if I could see the USS Los Angeles and the newly completed row of teletransmitters through the bright air.but I can not.Inside, I kind of know they haven't risen yet.It was still somewhat known when the ship and teleporter would complete their final crossing of the Zenith.But I don't want to think about it anymore.

Shirley, am I doing everything right? When the wind picked up, the sound of the pennant on the flagpole fluttering suddenly came.I sensed the restlessness of the waiting crowd, though I didn't really see it.For the first time since landing for our seventh reunion, I felt my heart filled with sorrow.No, not mourning, not mourning yet, but bitterness with sharp teeth, and if I let it grow, it will grow into grief.I'd been talking to Sealy in silence for years, mulling some issues in my mind that I hoped to discuss with her the next time I logged in, but suddenly it hit me that we'd never sit together and talk.The emptiness in my heart gradually increased.

Should I just let this happen, Siri? No answer, save for the growing murmur of the crowd.Within minutes, they would be sending my surviving youngest son, Donnel, or his daughter Lila and her brother up the hill, urging me to hurry.I throw away the sprig of willow weed I've been chewing.There is a little shadow on the horizon.Probably cloud.It is also possible that the islands that returned first, under the guidance of intuition and the north wind in spring, migrated back to their original place - the wide equatorial shallow sea area. But that has nothing to do with me. Shirley, am I doing everything right?

No answers, time flies. Sometimes I feel that Siri is so ignorant that it makes me uncomfortable. She doesn't know anything about the parts of my life that are far from her.She would ask about it, but sometimes, I think she might not even care what the answer was.I spent hours explaining to her the beautiful laws of physics behind our orbiting craft, but she never seemed to get it. Once, after I patiently explained to her in detail the difference between the old seed ship and the USS Los Angeles, she surprised me with a question.She asked, "Why did our ancestors spend 80 years on a ship to get to Maui, when you only got there in 130 days?" She didn't understand a thing. Shirley has no concept of history, and her knowledge of history is really pitiful.She sees Overlord and the World Wide Web the way a child would view a happy, utterly stupid fairy-tale kingdom; so callous and unfeeling, it often drives me to my knees.Shirley knew about the early days of the Exile—at least the parts that involved Mauiyo and the colonists—and she occasionally dropped a funny old-timey trivia or phrasing, but she had absolutely no clue about the post-Exile era. Reality.As for terms like Garden, Ouster, Revival, and Lutheran, they meant nothing to her.If I mentioned Samud, Brevi, or General Horace, Glennon Gao, she had no association, no reaction.indifferent. The last time I saw Siri, she was well into her seventies.At the age of seventy, she still has never traveled to an alien planet, never used a transluminator, never tasted alcoholic beverages other than wine, never accessed empathy surgery, never entered a teleportation portal, never smoked marijuana Smoke, has not received genetic modification, has not been inserted into stimulation simulation, has not received any formal education, has not received RNA medical treatment, has not heard of Zen Spiritualism or Shrike Church, and has not taken any flying tools, except for her family. Old antique skimmer. Siri has never had sex with anyone but me.At least that's what she said.I believe too.