Uber And Out

Whereabouts on North Terrace? asks Angus.

The State Library, says Robbie.

It'll be closed, says Angus. 

I stand out the front, says Robbie. In ma boots. Which will be full o' water.

Is that YOU? says Angus. 

Aye, says Robbie. 

So that poem about the seas ganging dry was your poem?

Aye, it was, says Robbie. Wu'd ye me to gi' ye another?

Too late, says Angus. Here's the Library.

Robbie swipes his card and gets out. 

He plods to his plinth in the rain.

Somehow he has to get back onto it.

We won't wait though. He's done it before. He'll be fine.

Who's paying for the next leg? asks Angus.

Gaius has been deep in reverie, devising his microplastics experiment. Six crabs, that will mean....

Kierkegaard has been tending to the crab bucket, which has filled up with crab tears. Some mucous-rich water has spilled on his trousers. How annoying, he will have to.... 

Ageless has no intention of paying. He remains silent. Almost silent. Ruurk!

The crabbies stop weeping and listen. What will happen? Will they have to get out and walk?

Anyone else got the app? asks Angus. 

It turns out that no one in the car has it.

You can always get one, says Angus.

So Gaius gets out of the back seat and into the front passenger seat and begins the process of getting an Uber app.

After which Angus drives everyone to Gaius's.

Have a good crab and lobster breakfast! says Angus. Wish I could join you!

We won't be eating these crabs, says Gaius. They are volunteer subjects. And Ageless lobster is a senior team member.

Sorry, says Angus. I wasn't to know.

You weren't, says Gaius. No hard feelings.

He pays Angus. who drives off to pick up another customer. 

Curses! says Gaius. He's gone off with our rakes.

At least we've still got the umbrella, says Kierkegaard.

A small mercy, says Gaius. Not that I'm dry. Nor are you. What happened?

The crabbies, says Kierkegaard. They cried. The bucket filled up with salt water and mucous.

Let's hope that will not affect the experiment, says Gaius.

He fumbles with his key, and they all go inside.

Right, shall we get started? says Gaius. 

I thought I might first change my trousers, says Kierkegaard.

You do that, says Gaius. I'll separate the crabbies. And by the way, remind me to stop calling them crabbies. It's most unprofessional.

The sand crabs nod and wink at one another. From now on proceedings will be professional.

This is what they expected.