Cape Breton is the Thought-Control Centre of Canada by Ray Smith

Author:Ray Smith
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Biblioasis
Published: 2006-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

“It’s a carousel,” said Period. “And damn the consequences!”

He walked the opposite way along the tangent and not long after that the office workers began to arrive with their sandwiches and their little cartons of milk. Somewhere among them wandered a Pierrette, boneheaded, disconsolate and stacked.

3. PURLIEU CAME OUT of the boulders at the south end of the beach and began walking north. The August sun hung high above his left shoulder and the water lapped and swished on his left. On his right, at the top of the beach, a cliff rose and the cliff was topped with twisted pines.

The day was a weekday so the beach was empty. Purlieu went along doing the various things people do while walking on beaches: he ran, he walked, he picked up driftwood, skipped stones, teased waves, etc. When he had gone a bit of a distance he took off his shoes because sand kept getting in them. Some time later he took off his shirt and undershirt so as to let the sun at his shoulders. Later still he rolled up his pantlegs so as to tease the waves without getting the cuffs wet. Purlieu was doing his usual mediocre job of relaxing.

When he had gone a mile, Purlieu was halfway along the beach. Here the cliff turned away and ran inland as far as the eye could see. Now, at the top of the beach, was a sand ridge as high as a man. This ridge marked a waterline of some sort (high water of storms, perhaps) and was topped with eel-grass. Behind the ridge (Purlieu scrambled up to see) lay a wasteland of sand dunes covered with waving eel-grass. The dunes rolled away for a mile or so until they stopped at the edge of a harbour. The cliff formed the southern edge of the dune waste and of the harbour. The highest of the dunes was in the middle. It rose about twenty feet and had the appearance of a castle keep. Purlieu thought he would like to climb it; he considered this and kept considering it until at last he did not climb it, but slid back down and continued along the beach.

Purlieu had not gone much further when he became aware of the weight of clothing he was carrying. He had his shirt and under-shirt, his shoes and socks in his hands. That was obviously pointless, he decided after five minutes’ thought; I will put them down on a driftwood log. This he did; and went on toward the north.

The north end of the beach was marked by two man-made structures. Shiny, black, low in the ocean lay the line of a breakwater. The breakwater ran through the surf and on up the beach and in past the ridge at the top of the beach. It kept the beach from sliding into the harbour mouth which flowed just beyond it. Some distance in from the top of the beach (and astride the breakwater) stood a little lighthouse to mark the harbour.

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