Bad At Being

Kant walks into the water.

He does not go far.

Forgot the thermometer, says Kant.

Here it is, says Gaius, stepping forward.

Kant takes it, and sploshes back in.

He turns again.

Is this far enough?

For a first reading, says Gaius.

Kant holds the thermometer just below the surface of the water.

A big wave comes in.

He drops it.

I've dropped it! calls Kant.

We saw that, says Gaius. Can you see it?

No, says Kant.

He's bad at being the thermometer guy, says Terence.

He's a beginner, says Gaius.

I wouldn't have dropped it, says Terence.

Found it! shouts Kant.

What's the reading? calls Gaius.

Nineteen, shouts Kant.

I suppose that's the temperature at the bottom, shouts Gaius.

It may be the temperature in between, shouts Kant. It wasn't down there long enough.

Shall I write down nineteen? asks Terence.

If you like, says Gaius. But it may be a false reading.

Okay, says Terence. 

He writes 90 in the sand with his finger. 

Gaius is too busy thinking what to do next, to take a photo.

Which perhaps doesn't matter.

I'll take a surface reading, shouts Kant.

Hold it for at least thirty seconds, shouts Gaius.

Starting NOW! shouts Kant.

He counts in his head up to thirty.

Twenty point six at the surface, shouts Kant.

Terence writes twenty point six in the sand.

Don't even ask what that looks like.