It's Called Rocket Science

Gaius is alone, with his notebooks and an orange.

He flips through a notebook. Somewhere, there should be notes on the dunnart.

Ah yes, notes on the dunnart.

They sleep, during the day. 

I'd forgotten that, thinks Gaius. But it should have been obvious, if the night heron ate one. So it seems I can have the day off. I'll go for a swim.

He crunches down to the shore, with his orange. 

The wind is chilly.

He sits down on a rock.

No one to talk to.  He peels the orange.

A bird alights, on the rock beside him. It's Saint Roley.

All alone? says Saint Roley.

Day off, says Gaius. I had planned to search for a dunnart, but they sleep in the day.

They can be woken, says Saint Roley. Do you have reason to believe one is nearby?

Yes, says Gaius. A night heron ate one here, as recently as yesterday.

Did he not know they're endangered? says Saint Roley.

How was he to know? says Gaius. 

By their scarcity, says Saint Roley. It's called rocket science.

Not rocket science, says Gaius.

Yes, rocket science, says Saint Roley. I know the expression.

But the expression is, 'it's not rocket science', says Gaius.

What's the point of that? asks Saint Roley.

Rocket science is complicated, says Gaius. 

So it is, says Saint Roley. 

I'm glad you're here, says Gaius. How is Porntip? 

Not happy, says Saint Roley. Some fool ran over our nest in his vehicle, scrambling our baby.

I'm sorry to hear it, says Gaius.

Where's that baby you had? asks Saint Roley.

Baby-Glossy? We left him under an umbrella-shaped rock, learning English from Captain Baudin.

Pity, says Saint Roley. Porntip and I can teach English

Probably a purer form of English than Captain Baudin, says Gaius.

Probably, says Saint Roley. But French is also a beautiful language.

I never could get the hang of it, says Gaius.

Shall I try and rustle up a dunnart? asks Saint Roley.

I'd be grateful, says Gaius.