A Dog at Sea by J.F. Englert

Author:J.F. Englert [Englert, J. F.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-440-33885-7
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2009-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

I reviewed what I had written and thought it sounded like the kind of illiterate Spartan prose that Harry would expect from the spirit world. I wasn’t happy to find myself again exploiting his weakness for the occult, and I knew this likely meant Ivan would get involved, but I entered our room number and pressed SEND.

Only after this was done did I realize that a snapshot of Yours Truly had been taken to accompany the video telegram (insurance that would-be pranksters were recorded and could be duly punished). I began to fret, but then concluded that my owner would assume that seeing an image of his dog in connection with this message was nothing other than confirmation of its spiritual origin. I doubted that Harry had any knowledge of the video telegram system or how it worked. The greater challenge would be gaining access to one of these terminals in the future when the ship was bustling again.

The only other problem now was getting Harry back to our cabin so that he could read my message. This would require a direct intervention.

I made my way to Lecture Space 3. Harry was finishing up his presentation. He surprised me with his inventiveness and I admit I felt more than a little ashamed of having underestimated him. Harry had made the small crowd very enthusiastic about the idea of mosaics. In the absence of crafts materials, Harry had made use of the brown paper covering the floor and had illustrated critical aspects of mosaic building by cutting up the paper into shapes held aloft by individuals and then shaping and reshaping patterns by moving the audience around. In between these interactive demonstrations, my owner discussed important aspects of mosaic creation including techniques for kilning mosaic pieces, the kinds of glazing options one had, the ancient origins of the art, and the most successful practitioners. Listening to him, I realize that I often sold my dear Harry short. Perhaps it was just a question of two males living in such close proximity that competitiveness got the better of one of them—or more likely how little of this side of himself Harry had shown in Imogen’s absence.

But I didn’t have time to reflect on this. The lecture was ending; he had shaped the audience into a U and was describing how mosaic tiles were fitted into one another such that the individuals created a pure unity, a web whose elements support one another honestly without any material in the seams to cover up mismeasurement and mistakes. No, I didn’t have much time. He would be finishing up momentarily and then heading for lunch and who-knew-where-else when he needed to go back to our room first.

It should be clear that I’m not one for Lassie-style interventions, but Harry had returned to the podium at the front of the room where an enormous pitcher of ice water stood balanced on the ledge. One could almost feel gravity pulling it earthward.

“So those are the basics of the mosaic craft,” my owner said.

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