None of the other crew tried to argue with them: the ocean did all the arguing that was necessary. Day after day, it filled their vision to the horizon, its only feature the constant change of its surface in dialogue with the sky above. Soon enough, they understood that the things that had given them security—families, states, laws, futures, and pasts—were all located on a solid planet, a planet of land. In this never-ending world of lawless water they were trapped in now, none of that existed.

Beside him, his fellow crew member laid a gloved hand on the shoulder of his rubberized overshirt. “Steady, Eiko.”

Back in the now. The crew member with him on this shift was Son—a lean Vietnamese man a few years older than Eiko. He had been a dive instructor and guide on an island. What was its name? Eiko had never cared enough to remember—just as he had never cared enough to remember the names of the two prostitutes whose smooth, soaped bodies had writhed against his.

Never cared enough.

And he saw—as if it were happening right then, before him—the slack line going taught. The line striking Thomas in the chest, sending him overboard into the gray roil.

Gone.

Eiko vomited into the slime near his feet. He felt Son catch him as his knees buckled, heard Bjarte’s irritated growl as the stop button was hammered and the siren went off.

“Histamine,” he heard Son explaining to Bjarte. “He needs a little time out of the room. I can punch up prochlorperazine from the dispensary.”

He heard Bjarte on the intercom to another guard: “Wake up one of the off-shift crew, get them down to the flash-freeze. We’ve got a limp one. You,” he yelled at Son, “make sure your ass is back here in five minutes!”

In the galley, with a cold towel over his head and the prochlorperazine in his system, he began to feel better. He knew he’d have to make the time up tomorrow—work a full eighteen hours—but for now he looked forward to a cake of fish protein, a cup of broth, an extended sleep.

In his hammock, hours later, he woke to voices. It was night. Dark in the barracks, only the sound of the engines pushing the factory trawler forward through the black. And the voices, and an intermittent red light from outside that splashed a web of shadows against the barracks wall every few seconds.