Gaius makes his way back to the sand.
What was it? asks Terence.
Kant is confirming it now, says Gaius.
So what will it be? asks Terence.
We don't know yet, says Gaius. But I'm sure he will tell us.
He's still under water, says Terence.
Gaius looks back out to sea.
There is no sign of Kant.
Or is there?
A large wave is obscuring the view.
And then woosh, the large wave breaks and Kant comes in with it.
He stands up.
His trousers have unrolled and his mask is trailing. One elastic has snapped.
He waves the thermometer.
Nineteen! says Kant. It was right the first time.
At least now we know, says Gaius. But the surface temperature is the most relevant.
Indeed, agrees Kant. That's where the froth is.
He wipes some froth from his chin.
Did you find a pencil? asks Kant.
No, says Gaius. I used Terence's suggestion.
And his toe, says Terence. Because a wave rubbed my point out.
I could have lent you my pencil, says Kant.
Now you tell me, says Gaius.
It's in my jacket pocket, says Kant. Or it was.
His jacket lies in the sand, neatly folded.
What about paper? asks Gaius.
I always keep a sheet of paper at hand, says Kant. In case I am struck by a philosophical thought.
Very wise, says Gaius.
I had one while I was out there, says Kant pointing towards the next wave.
May we learn what it was? asks Gaius.
We are not rich due to what we possess, but what we can do without, says Kant.
Like Gloopy, says Terence. I do without him. AND a horse. AND a parrot.
Rich indeed, says Gaius.
It feels like the opposite, says Terence.
I know what you mean, says Gaius. My crocs have gone missing.
Sorry about that, says Kant. I'm sure they'll drift in. Shall we start looking?
They walk up the beach.
More dead fish have washed up in the froth.
But no crocs are in evidence.
Look! says Terence. There's Victor!
Victor is walking towards them.
Curses! says Gaius. He'll be wanting that witness statement from Surfing-with-Whales.
Victor approaches.
Are these yours? asks Victor.
He exhibits the crocs.
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