Stage 5: Changé to Laval - Zero Sum

Stage five, the time trials. 

The skies look ominous.

The riders set out, one by one, to cover 27.2 kilometres in the fastest time possible.

It rains just as Sweezus is starting.

What bad luck, says Belle.

He'll be all right, says Marcel. He is used to bad fortune.

Sweezus wobbles around a wet corner, and out of sight.

Arthur is next.

Arthur doesn't deserve to do well, says Belle.  

I understand your reasoning, says Marcel, but it was not cheating for me to take his place yesterday.

What was it then? asks Belle.

A zero sum, says Marcel. Arthur gained a rest, but today he will have a stiff knee.

Tch! says Belle. So it was pointless.

Pas du tout, says Marcel. A day off being a clown was a good day for me.

Several others have gone down the slope in the meantime.

Now it's Vello.

Vello waves towards Belle, hoping for a thumbs up.

She scowls. Only Terence waves gaily.

Then it is Gaius. 

Is that Gaius? asks Marcel.

No, says Belle. It's Saint Arnoc. Gaius refuses to participate in the rest of the tour. At least HE has principles.

But Saint Arnoc is an old man, says Marcel. He will never keep up the pretence of being a world class rider.

He might, says Belle. There are two saints, remember.

Oh yes, says Marcel. Saint Arnoc and Saint Ténénan, Where is Saint Ténénan?

That could be him, says Belle. They look alike, especially in helmets.

More riders set off. The rain has stopped now. 

It's not at all fair.

Saint Arnoc, or is it Saint Ténénan, has caught up with Arthur, who is (again) Arthur.

Arthur has a stiff knee, as predicted.

I feel bad about this, says Saint Ténénan, passing Arthur.

My knee's stiff, says Arthur. 

We are not interfering, says Saint Ténénan.  

Arthur hadn't thought that the old guys might be interfering.

Maybe they are.

Then he remembers that they are saints and if they claim they are not interfering, they are not interfering.

Arthur rides to the finish in Laval. He doesn't pass Sweezus. His time is middling. But his knee feels okay.

Tadej Pogacar wins the time trial stage in a blistering 32 minutes.

For them both, a good day.

Stage 4: Redon to Fougères - Protests

Stage four. The race starts.

No it doesn't.

The riders are staging a protest.

They stop. They start.

They go slow for ten minutes.

Then all is back to normal, except Caleb Ewan's not there.

A flat stage, another one good for the sprinters.

Terence is watching from the side lines. He is wearing the curly blue wig.

Team Condor rides past.

Yay! cries Terence.

Sweezus waves.

He waved at you! says Belle, who is watching with Terence.

Why didn't Arthur? asks Terence.

Because it wasn't Arthur, says Belle. 

Who was it? asks Terence.

Never mind, says Belle.

Team Philosophe rides past.

Yay! cries Terence.

Belle! Why are you standing there? shouts Vello. Why aren't you at the feed zone?

Too bad! says Belle. Perhaps you should think about that.

That's not Gaius! cries Terence.

Hush, says Belle. 

But Terence is right. That's not Gaius. It's Saint Arnoc, in Team Philosophe colours (with a New Zealand flag on the back).

Saint Arnoc looks to be in trouble.

Saint Arnoc: This is harder than I imagined (puff-puff).

Vello: I thought you were a saint.

Saint Arnoc: What's that got to do with it?

David: If you want a saint to do something for you, you must pray to them.

Vello: Hurry up, Arnoc, I pray.

Saint Arnoc: It doesn't work that way. You pray to me. I ask the almighty.

Vello: How long does that normally take?

Saint Arnoc: Theoretically, it could happen immediately.....

Vello: Wonderful. Do it.

Saint Arnoc: Or, it can take longer. 

Vello: Curses! How about you ask your almighty to help us tomorrow in the time trials.

Saint Arnoc: Time trials! I can't ask the almighty to intervene in the time trials. 

David: Come on Vello. Admit you've made a gross error.

Vello: It would seem so. Belle won't be at the feed station. Have you got any snacks on you?

Saint Arnoc: Snacks! There I can help you.

At least he has snacks. 

We have listened to Team Philosophe for too long. Let's fast forward, and see who is winning.

Looks like this guy, van Moer.

Yes, yes, it's him! He is going to win it!

But no. Here come Cavendish, Bouhanni and Philipsen, zipping past him.

Mark Cavendish wins it. 

(Cavendish won a stage in the same town in 2015). 

Sorry van Moer, it was predestined.

Stage 3: Lorient to Pontivy - Changes

Stage three, let's hope things go well.

Arthur's knee is recovering.

(Arthur's knee: Oui! I am used to splitting open).

So we must believe it.

Gaiu's shoulder is doing less well.

(Gaius's shoulder: Euughhh!).

The bishops have offered their services to Team Philosophe.

Saint Arnoc: No one would know!

Gaius: It is wrong. That's all there is to it.

Vello: There's wrong and there's less wrong. Less wrong is called pragmatism.

David: You would think that.

Vello: Thank you, Saint Arnoc. Perhaps Gaius will reconsider your offer at the end of today.

Saint Arnoc: I predict many changes today.

Gaius: Yes, for the better.

The race starts. It is sunny. It rains. 

Saint Arnoc has tried. He goes back to stand with Saint Ténénan, opposite a speed hump.

Geraint Thomas flies by.

Crash. Down goes Thomas, hurting his shoulder.

Again it is sunny. It rains.

Marcel stands near the finish, in Pontivy. He scratches his neck at the base of his wig. It is itchy. 

He can't stand it any longer. He pulls off his blue curly wig.

Can I have it? asks Terence, who is the infant that was beside him yesterday, and is standing beside him today.

Terence has been waiting for this opportunity.

All right, says Marcel. But don't put it on! You should first wash it, because it may be that the cause of the itching I felt was, although I fail to see how it could be, since I soaked it for hours in a strong disinfectant...

He is going, eventually to say head lice, but never gets there.

Because a drama is unfolding.

Caleb Ewan and Peter Sagan are down!

Leaving Tim Merlier to win the stage for Team Alpecin-Fenix.

And Jasper Philipsen to come second, followed by Nacer Bouhanni.

What a day. Pogacar, Thomas, Roglic, Haig, Ewan, Sagan, Démare, all involved in crashes!

Changes.

Saint Arnoc, way back at the speed hump, looks wise.

Stage 2: Perros to Mûr-de-Bretagne - Honour

Stage two will be hilly, with a mountain finish.

The riders are back in the saddle.

The spectators are on their best behaviour.

There is Marcel, in his wig. He is playing a flute, with an infant beside him.

A little further along the grass verge, beside a stone wall, stand the bishops.

Team Condor rides past the bishops.

Arthur has one bandaged knee. 

The bishops nod to him benignly.

Here comes Froomey, looking sore in the hip and the chest. 

And Alaphilippe, resplendent in yellow.

And Team Philosophe. How is Gaius?

Vello and David are encouraging Gaius.

Can't you try harder?

Gaius is nursing a sore shoulder, and trying as hard as he can.

The bishops, who are saints as well, regard one another.

Saint Arnoc: We ought to help them.

Saint Ténénan: Why?

Saint Arnoc: We took part in the team presentation.

Saint Ténénan: Which was naughty enough.

Saint Arnoc: Are you with me or against me?

Saint Ténénan: I'm with you of course.

Saint Arnoc: We can do nothing now, but will offer our services tomorrow.

Saint Ténénan: So let it be.

Saint Arnoc: Oh look, here comes Mathieu van der Poel. Such a dear boy, riding to honour his grandpa.

Saint Ténénan: If he wins today's stage, he will do better than his grandpa. Pou-pou always came second.

Saint Arnoc: Perhaps Mathieu intends to come second.

Saint Ténénan: Which would honour his grandpa the most, coming first or second?

Interesting as this debate is, the riders are nearing the finish and we must catch up or miss it.

It's the second time up the Mûr-de Bretagne. 

Mathieu van der Poel is in front. Others make attempts to pass him.

But no go. Neither Pogacar nor Roglic can do it.

Mathieu wins, but Pou-Pou (who died recently) is unable to give an opinion.

Stage One: Brest to Landerneau - Bonne chance les gars!

Stage one of the Tour de France. Who would not be excited?

The teams roll out of Brest.

Marcel Proust watches from the side lines, in a curly blue wig.

Two ancient bishops stand beside him.

They made Marcel's acquaintance, after the Team Presentation deception.

There goes Team Philosophe! Vello, David and Gaius look confident.

Bonne chance, les gars! call the bishops.

Marcel smirks.

Only these ancient bishops would call Team Philosophe les gars.

Sweezus, Pablo and Arthur ride past in their frog coloured jerseys, with brown ovoid patches.

Perhaps it is good to be dull, thinks Marcel for one does not stand out and make oneself a target, whereas, I, now, wearing this blue curly wig, have already been noticed by the cameras, as have the bishops, in their robes and mitres, costumes which, while........

We must not remain until the end of his sentence, however. There's a crash up ahead.

A fan with a large piece of cardboard has up-ended Tony Martin, and brought other riders down with him.

Quelle disastre!

Who is in this tumble?

Sweezus has avoided it. Pablo has swerved onto a grass verge, stopped, righted himself, and continued.

Arthur has fallen, although he lives a charmed life.

It does not mean he can't fall off his bike and split his knee open.

The riders who can continue, continue.

Lucky I avoided that crash, thinks Chris Froome.

Shit a brick, thinks Richie. It's starting already.

Julian Alaphilippe, does not think anything, but thunders on.

No!  Closer to the finish another large tumble. 

Chris Froome is down. So are Konovolovas, Lemoine, Soler, Hirschi and .....Secundus. 

Secundus! Isn't that Gaius?

The fallen are taken away, for xrays and scans.

Those who can continue continue.

Alaphillipe is unhurt. He powers up the final steep climb to Landerneau, eight seconds ahead of Michael Matthews.

It's a good day for some.

Bishops Sink In

 It's not Arthur Rimbaud.

Some are inclined to believe it, but Richie isn't.

Hi, Sweez, says Richie. New team member?

No way, says Sweezus. The real Arthur'll be here tomorrow.

Cutting it fine! says Richie. Who's this guy then?

Friend of ours, says Sweezus. Doing us a favour.

Reckon I've seen him before, says Richie.

Yeah, you would've, says Sweezus.  

Does he talk? asks Richie.

Not a lot, says Sweezus. 

Hang on a tick, says Richie. The clown!

Aka Marcel Proust, says Sweezus. There's no law against it, is there?

Presenting a guy who's not in your team, says Richie. Bet there is!

Team Philosophe did it, says Sweezus.

Yeah I saw, says Richie. No way those two old guys were Gaius and David.

Know who the old guys are? asks Sweezus. A couple of old bishops. Vello met them in Landerneau, when he went there with Belle to buy some trou mad.

What's that? asks Richie.

Shortbread, says Sweezus. 

Bishops! says Richie.

Weirdness. It has only just sunk in.

Yeah, bishops, says Sweezus. Out walking along the coast path. They got talking. Turns out they're both old Breton saints. But the craziest thing is....

Geraint Thomas appears, looking for Richie.

Hey Sweez! says Geraint. Team all set for tomorrow?

Yeah, says Sweezus. 

Who's your new skinny guy?

No one. It's Arthur.

What's with the mo?

It'll be off by tomorrow.

Yeah, we'll all be off by tomorrow.

A weak joke, but they laugh. 

Richie goes off with Geraint to check their new Peak 4550 wheels. Again.

Good on you Marcel, says Sweezus.

You are welcome, says Marcel, who has been by his side all along, and not spoken a word, as contracted.

Racing Metamorphoses

Steve has arrived early, as requested.

The ranger waits at the dinghy.

Where are they? shouts Steve.

Here they are now.

Gaius, David, Katherine and Arthur climb into the dinghy.

The ranger pushes them off.

Remember the photo! calls Gaius.

Good luck in the Tour! calls the ranger. I think it's great that you guys are riding for New Zealand.

Errm.... yes, thank you! shouts Gaius.

They climb on board the Bonnie Celeste.

Riding for New Zealand? says Steve. That's news!

Yes, well.... says David.

They'll do New Zealand proud, says Katherine.

When do you find time to practise? asks Steve.

A trade secret, says Gaius. Actually, to be honest, this year we haven't.

I guess you never forget how to ride a bicycle, says Steve.

It's not just a question....begins Gaius.

Just then he spots the back ends of two lobsters, protruding from under a tubular canvas, and loses track of what's not a just a question.

.....

In Auckland, they are met by an official.

We've arranged a fast trip to the airport, says the official. Here are your jerseys. There are three of them. But I see you are four. And I'm sorry, but you won't be allowed on board with those lobsters.

That's all right, says Katherine. I'm not going to France. I'm returning to Adelaide.

And the lobsters?

Baudin and Dufresne look at Katherine, hoping for clemency.

They're on their own, says Katherine. If you want, you can keep them.

The official is pleased to accept Baudin and Dufresne. He looks forward to dinner.

......

In Brest, the Team Presentation proceeds, with real people watching. 

The crowds cheer as their favourites take the stage. 

Look! Bora Hansgrohe have new black and green checkerboard outfits.

And Alpécin-Fenix are in purple and amber, to honour van der Poel's grandpa. That's cool!

Last year's winner, Tadej Pogacar, says a few words in English. He is eager to race.

Team Philosophe are looking.....older.

Vello looks the same. But those two other guys look a bit ancient.

Team Condor is presented, amid cheering.

Sweezus looks good, in his frog coloured outfit. So does Pablo Neruda. But....

Is that really Arthur Rimbaud, with thin legs and a small black moustache?

As A Clown

Morning, on Te Hauturu-o-Toi.

In the bunkhouse, it's baked beans for breakfast.

I must call Steve and arrange for our pickup, says Katherine.

Ask him to come early, says David. 

Yes, we ought to get back to the mainland, says Gaius. Arthur, when are we due at the airport?

I'll just do some checking, says Arthur.

He goes outside.

Calls Sweezus.

Hey bro, says Sweezus. Where are you?

Still in New Zealand, says Arthur.

Fuck! says Sweezus. Today's the Team Presentation.

I know, says Arthur. Can you get me out of it?

I suppose so, says Sweezus. As long as you get here by Saturday.

Sure, says Arthur. Just have to book tickets. I'll do it right now.

Let me know how you go, says Sweezus.

Arthur tries an online booking website. On it he reads:

To apply for special permission to travel overseas, call this number.

He calls the number.

Yes?

I need to fly to Brittany, later today. 

What is your reason?

I'm a member of Team Condor.

Oh! You're a Tour de France rider?

Yes, and there are two others with me, who need to get there as well.

Also riders?

Yes, in Team Philosophe.

Shouldn't be a problem. I'll talk to my manager.

Arthur waits.

The manager comes on.

We can fast track you on one condition. You ride as New Zealanders.

Arthur supposes that the manager is joking.

Fine by me, says Arthur. 

So he is granted the tickets.

Now for the bike problem.

He calls Belle.

Hello Arthur, says Belle. I bet I know why you're calling.

Why am I? asks Arthur.

You're stuck in New Zealand and have to fly directly to France and haven't done any preparations, says Belle.

We've been busy, says Arthur.

I'm sure, says Belle. Well, so have I been busy. Papa and I brought all the bikes with us to Brittany a week ago. 

You're as reliable as Gaius thinks I am, says Arthur.

Thanks Arthur, says Belle. I really did it for papa, and for Sweezie.

I know, says Arthur. But thanks anyway.

See you in Brest, says Belle. I assume you'll be getting here by Saturday?

Yes, says Arthur. See you then.

He calls Sweezus.

All sorted, says Arthur. I just have to ride as a New Zealander. So do the others.

Hilarious! says Sweezus. And I've found you a stand-in for the Team Presentation.

Who? asks Arthur. 

Marcel, says Sweezus. He's here as a clown, but he's willing to do it.

Okay, says Arthur. Just don't let him talk to the media.

Course not, says Sweezus. See you in Brest, bro!

Arthur is pleased with his wheeling and dealing.

He enters the bunkhouse to update the others.

On Top Of Time

Right. Let's call it a night, says Gaius.

I might climb this tree, says the kakapo.

You climb trees! says Gaius. I had forgotten.

Why should you remember? asks the kakapo.

Good question, says Arthur.

As long as I remember, says the kakapo.

Of course, says Gaius. May we stay and watch you?

I'd rather you didn't, says the kakapo. 

Very well, says Gaius. Good night and farewell. I'll send the ranger the photo of you and Arthur.

Many thanks, says the kakapo. 

She starts climbing the tree. She suspects it's a rimu.

Gaius and Arthur make their way back to the bunkhouse.

A productive night, remarks Gaius.

I suppose so, says Arthur.

The ranger is waiting, outside the bunkhouse.

How did it go? asks the ranger.

Excellently, says Gaius. We met a kakapo, and a rare white kiwi.

Learn anything new? asks the ranger.

The rare white kiwi knows about cartoon characters, says Gaius. That surprised me.

That surprises me too, says the ranger.

And I have a photo of the kakapo that I'd like to send you, says Gaius. It's her with Arthur. She requests that you print it out so she can use it as a book mark.

How strange, says the ranger. She should have plenty of bookmarks.

It's for the book about Lingshan Mountain, says Gaius. Arthur has been there. They got talking.

You got talking, says Arthur. 

We all got talking, says Gaius. It was most pleasant. 

Okay, says the ranger. Send me the photo. I'll get onto it.

Gaius and Arthur enter the bunkhouse. 

Katherine is already in bed but David is fretting.

Do you both realise that the Team Presentation in Brest is tomorrow? says David.

We have cut it a bit fine, says Gaius. But Arthur's on top of it.

We can miss the team presentation, says Arthur. I've got special permission.

(He hasn't, but getting it shouldn't be hard).

All right, but Stage One is on Saturday, says David. We mustn't miss that.

We won't miss it, says Arthur.

What about our bikes? asks David.

Bikes. Easy, says Arthur. 

He decides he had better think seriously about some of these issues, in the morning.

One Goes One Wants

I have nocturnal things to do, says the rare white kiwi. I'm off.

I do have more questions, says Gaius.

Like why don't I use my large brain size? says the kiwi.

No, says Gaius. It was crass of me to mention it.

Very crass, says the kiwi. Goodbye.

It steps behind the tree it emerged from.

Arthur watches it go.

He can do this because he is not directly in front of the tree.

The rare white kiwi is soon a grey blur in the dark vegetation.

Did you get a good photo? asks Arthur.

Yes, says Gaius. And a fine one of the kakapo.

Can you take a photo of me with Arthur? asks the kakapo.

I don't see why not, says Gaius. Unless Arthur objects. Do you?

No, says Arthur.

Gaius takes a photo of Arthur and the kakapo.

It's a good one.

Let me see it, says the kakapo. 

Gaius shows her the photo.

Chaste proximity, says the kakapo. Nice. Is there any way I could get a copy?

I suppose I could send it to the ranger, says Gaius. 

Do that, says the kakapo. I'll get him to print out a copy and keep it in my book about Lingshan Mountain.

A pleasant memory, says Gaius.

Of what? says Arthur.

I know it's your memory, says Gaius, but she likes it.

I do, says the kakapo. It adds a further dimension to the mountain

Arthur doesn't see how it adds that.

Now, Arthur, says Gaius, slurping a large mouthful of beer from his can. Have you done anything about getting us to Brittany before the Tour de France start date?

Yes, says Arthur. 

And? asks Gaius. 

Being here on Te Hauturu-o-Toi is equivalent to quarantining, says Arthur. So we can fly directly to France from New Zealand and join our team bubbles.

Excellent! says Gaius. And have you organised tickets?

Sure, says Arthur. We get back to the mainland tomorrow, and fly out in the evening.

Good man, says Gaius.

Arthur hopes things will turn out in the way he has indicated. Without complications.

And anyway, what complications could there be?

Wham Bam Off

Interesting, says Gaius. Not mating this year?

No, says the kakapo. I'm fed up with the lek system.

And why is that? asks Gaius. If you don't mind me asking.

The guys boom and hoot, and we pick the best one, says the kakapo. Then, wham-bam, and off.

Is that what that noise is? asks the kiwi. Me and my partner sometimes hear it.

Well, keep away, says the kakapo.

That's what we do, says the kiwi. We're happy together. 

Right, says the kakapo. So where is she now?

She'll be somewhere, says the kiwi. At home probably. 

Sounds great, says the kakapo. Domestic bliss. Not that I know what that is.

No, says Gaius. I believe the male kakapo plays no part in the rearing of young.

You're telling me, says the kakapo.

I wonder when Arthur will return, says Gaius. I have things to write down in my notebook.

Like what? asks the kiwi.

First of all, says Gaius, I shall record where I found you. No, first of all I'll write down your proper name.

Kiwi, says the kiwi.

Apteryx, says Gaius, a rare white one. The smallest of living ratites.

Bet you didn't know that, says the kakapo.

Didn't want to, says the kiwi. It makes me sound like a cartoon character.

Interesting that you should know about cartoon characters, says Gaius. 

Apteryx? says the kakapo. Which cartoon character is it?

He's probably thinking of Asterix, says Gaius.

Are you? asks the kakapo.

No, says the kiwi. 

Arthur returns, with two cans of beer and a pencil.

Wonderful! says Gaius. And thanks for the pencil. I've already established an interesting fact about the kiwi. While it's known to have a larger brain size than most flightless birds, it fails to make use of it.

Hey! says the kiwi.

It understood that, says Arthur.

Perhaps I've misjudged it, says Gaius.

Huge Egg Inside

Gaius sits down on a heap of damp leafy detritus.

Who wants to go first? asks Gaius. Or perhaps you'd consent to being photographed together?

I wouldn't, says the kakapo. Because I like to pose and he doesn't.

Fine, says Gaius. You pose, and I'll snap you.

The kakapo arranges her yellow-green plumage, composes her distinct facial disc, opens her beak slightly.

Ready, says she.

Snap!

Now me, says the kiwi.

He stands still, without changing anything.

Snap!

Gaius shows them the photos.

Your head's even bigger, says the kiwi.

You look like a white blob with black eye-dots, says the kakapo.

Not a blob, says Gaius. There's plenty of detail, if you look closely.

He looks closely. The kakapo and kiwi do not.

Why did you want a pencil? asks the kiwi.

I like to make notes, says Gaius. 

And you can't, says the kakapo. Until Arthur comes back with a pencil.

We can chat, if you like, says Gaius.

Arthur's been to China, says the kakapo.

I know, says Gaius. I went as well. 

Did you sleep on Lingshan Mountain? asks the kakapo.

No, says Gaius. Arthur and Shu went up with Richie. I was meeting with Dr Min Zhu from the Institute of Vertebrate Paleontology at the Chinese Academy of Sciences. I was researching the entelognathus, a 419 million year old armoured fish, the first creature to evolve jaws....

Boring, says the kiwi.

No it isn't says the kakapo. Shu wrote a beautiful poem, and Richie Porte rode for Team Sky.

He did, at the time, says Gaius. This year I believe he is riding for Team Ineos. That reminds me...

I thought you were interested in me, says the kiwi, but as you're not, I'll be going.

I am, says Gaius. I'm just waiting for the pencil. But let's talk about you. How is your eyesight?

Not too good, says the kiwi. I rely heavily on my other senses.

So much for your opinion of my photo, says the kakapo. My head is the right size.

And are there other rare white kiwis on the island? asks Gaius.

My partner, says the kiwi. She's plodding around somewhere with a huge egg inside her.

Bad luck her, says the kakapo.

Don't tell me that's never happened to you, says the kiwi.

Yes, but it won't happen this year, says the kakapo.

Rare White And Stiff

The rare white kiwi remains frozen.

You scared it, says the kakapo.

Sorry, says Arthur.

That 'sorry' was for you, rare white kiwi, says the kakapo. You can unfreeze now.

The rare white kiwi blinks at the kakapo. 

I wasn't scared, says the rare white kiwi. It was a normal reaction.

It's not a normal reaction, says the kakapo. If someone takes my picture, I pose.

Freezing is posing, says the rare white kiwi.

Let's see the photo, says the kakapo.

Arthur shows her the photo.

Now show him, says the kakapo.

The rare white kiwi looks at the photo of himself, for almost a minute.

Well? says the kakapo. Notice anything?

No, says the rare white kiwi. 

You look STIFF! says the kakapo.

I am stiff, says the rare white kiwi.

No you're not, says the kakapo. You're not stiff now.

I was then, says the rare white kiwi. So the photo is natural.

Take one of me, Arthur, says the kakapo.

Arthur obliges.

Now look at this photo of me, says the kakapo. Note the difference.

They all look at the photo that Arthur has taken of the kakapo.

Your head looks too big, says the kiwi.

That's the angle, says Arthur. I could take another one.

They hear a whistle. It's probably Gaius.

Arthur blows an answering whistle.

Gaius looms up from the darkness.

Arthur! says Gaius. I thought I heard voices. What have we here? A kakapo! And a rare white kiwi! Well done! I've had no success whatsoever.

Well, you have now, says Arthur. I'll leave you with these guys.

Don't go! says the kakapo. I want a new photo.

I'll take your photo, says Gaius. I have a knack for such things.

I'll head back to the bunkhouse, says Arthur.

Why the hurry? asks Gaius.

To find you a pencil, says Arthur.

Gaius feels in his pocket.

No pencil.

Trust Arthur to know.

Oddly Incurious

Arthur has finished his baked beans, and beer.

He thrusts the dirty bamboo stick back into his pocket.

I'd better get back to Gaius, says Arthur. 

Does he need anything? asks Katherine. A pencil?

I don't think so, says Arthur. He hasn't spotted anything.

He might have by now, says Katherine.

What is he spotting? asks the kakapo. 

Kakapo, says Arthur. 

What about the rare white kiwi? asks Katherine.

I was supposed to keep an eye out for that, says Arthur.

And did you? asks Katherine.

Sure, says Arthur. But I didn't see one. 

I saw one, says the kakapo. 

When? asks Arthur.

Recently, says the kakapo. Come with me and I'll point out where I saw it.

Okay, says Arthur.

Take a photo, if you spot it, says Katherine.

Right, says Arthur.

He and the kakapo set off into the night, the kakapo leading.

At first they follow the trail.

Then then leave it, heading into the forest.

Crunch crackle.

Let's hope Arthur has his shoes on. 

Who was Richie Porte? asks the kakapo.

A bike rider, says Arthur. At the time, he rode for Team Sky.

What was he doing in China? asks the kakapo.

Hanging out in a hutong, says Arthur. He hooked up with us when we climbed Mount Lingshan.

Are you a bike rider? asks the kakapo.

Yes, says Arthur. 

Why don't you ask ME something? says the kakapo.

Are we there yet? asks Arthur.

That was not what she meant.

For a member of a research team Arthur seems oddly incurious.

But in fact, they are there. Because out from behind a haekara, (or is it a matata? ) steps a rare white kiwi, which sees them too late, and freezes.

Arthur takes a photo.

A Dirty Way

Arthur returns to the bunkhouse, to pick up some snacks.

Arthur, says Katherine. I've made friends with a kakapo.

The kakapo looks up.

Hello, says the kakapo. We were just talking about you.

I was saying that you'd been to Lingshan Mountain, says Katherine.

A long time ago, says Arthur. Are there any more of those avocado chips?

No, says Katherine. How about dried cranberries?

Sorry, says the kakapo. I've eaten them all.

So what is there? asks Arthur.

Baked beans and beer, says Katherine.

Now you're talking, says Arthur.

He sits down on a sleeping bag. Not his own.

Opens the baked beans can, and starts spearing baked beans with a broken bamboo stick.

Arthur, says Katherine. That's a dirty way to eat them.

No spoons, says Arthur.

There ARE spoons, says Katherine. 

Arthur pops opens a beer.

Where are your shoes? asks Katherine. No never mind. I'm  not your keeper.

So you've been to Lingshan? says the kakapo.

Yes, says Arthur. I camped overnight at the top.

Were you by yourself? asks the kakapo.

No, says Arthur. I was with Richie Porte, and two Chinese ecologists.  

Wasn't Sikong Shu there as well? asks Katherine. He wrote that lovely poem.

That embarrassing poem, says Arthur. 

Nonsense, says Katherine. 'We lay in chaste proximity'.

Were you there too? asks the kakapo.

No! says Katherine. That's a quote from the poem.

So who lay in chaste proximity? asks the kakapo.

We all did, says Arthur. The two Chinese ecologists were women. They promised us wild jujubes for breakfast.

Oh, says the kakapo. What do they taste like?

They couldn't find any, says Arthur. So they went down to the Eco Village and bought rose cakes.

So romantic, says the kakapo.

Sikong Shu bought a pot of rose jam, says Arthur.

What about you? asks the kakapo. Did you buy anything?

I'd already left, says Arthur. 

He spears a few baked beans with his broken bamboo stick.

And remembers Sikong Shu.

SLEEPING ON LINGSHAN MOUNTAIN

At the foot of Lingshan Mountain
Near the stone path, linked by metal chains
Lie two Flying Pigeons

At the top of Lingshan Mountain
Protected from winds and damp grasses
We lie in chaste proximity

Mists rise outside our feeble tent
I cannot sleep for remembering
How once we fought with bamboo sticks.

Non And Non

Katherine locates her book.

Here it is, says Katherine. 

The kakapo flicks through it.

She stops flicking, at the second half of Proust's longest sentence.

Did you know there's a page missing? asks the kakapo.

No, says Katherine. Let me see. 

Pages 31 and 32, says the kakapo. 

Chapter Three, says Katherine. Luckily, I'm up to Chapter Six.

I'll start at Chapter Four, says the kakapo.

She's a fast reader. She speeds through How to Suffer Successfully and How to Express your Emotions.

Good isn't it, says Katherine. Have you read the real thing?

What is the real thing? asks the kakapo.

In Search of Lost Time, says Katherine. I have. But it's awfully long.

No, I haven't, says the kakapo. May I read Chapter Six, or don't you want me to?

How to Be a Good Friend, says Katherine. Why don't you read it to me?

That sounds cosy, says the kakapo. All right I will. Do you have any nibbles?

How would you go with dried cranberries? asks Katherine.

What colour are they? asks the kakapo.

Dark red, says Katherine.

Vitamin content? asks the kakapo. I'm only asking because I like to eat berries that are high in calcium and vitamin D.

I don't know, says Katherine. To be honest.

The kakapo tries one.

Yum. 

She reads Chapter Six out loud to Katherine.

They laugh when she gets to the part where Proust and James Joyce meet for the first time at a dinner party at the Ritz, and their talk consists only of the word Non. 

Proust: Do you know the duc de so and so? Joyce: Non.

Hostess: Have you read this piece in  Ulysses? Proust: Non.

That's so funny, says the kakapo. You'd think they'd have had a deep conversation.

I can think of many reasons why they wouldn't, says Katherine.

The kakapo takes another dried cranberry. Eats it.

Are you reading anything interesting at the moment? asks Katherine.

Soul Mountain, says the kakapo. I found it in the quarantine station.

What's it about? asks Katherine.

Lingshan Mountain, in China, says the kakapo. 

You don't say! says Katherine. Arthur's been there! Have you met Arthur?

Non, says the kakapo.

One In The Neck

Already been counted? says Katherine.

Yes, says the kakapo.

David counted her, says Baudin.

I'll cross her out then, says Katherine. Where are you going?

Just sauntering together, says Baudin.

Mind if I join you? says Katherine. I haven't found Gaius or Arthur.

Have you tried the whistle? asks Baudin.

No, I don't want to give in too early, says Katherine. 

Well said, says the kakapo. 

I'm the permit holder, says Katherine. 

Then they should be looking for you, says the kakapo.

They won't be, says Katherine. I might just go back to the bunkhouse and curl up with my book.

What book is that? asks the kakapo.

How Proust Can Change Your Life, says Katherine. 

I should like to read that, says the kakapo.

Katherine looks surprised,

The kakapo can read, says Baudin. She has proved it. She read the sign on our box.

A false sign, says the kakapo. 

Do you read much? asks Katherine.

Whatever I can lay my claws on, says the kakapo.

Books? asks Katherine.

Books, tickets, scientific printouts, says the kakapo. 

Where do you find them? asks Katherine.

Researchers leave them behind, says the kakapo. I've just been reading about passive integrated transponders. I was interested, because I've got one in my neck, and I get the occasional headache and I wondered whether it might be a documented side effect.

Good heavens! says Katherine. And is it?

It's not documented, says the kakapo. Probably because no researcher has asked us.

I get the occasional headache, says Baudin.

Are you tagged too? asks the kakapo.

No, says Baudin. I'm a free agent.

Then your input is useless, says the kakapo.

You are blunt, says Baudin. I like that.

By now they have reached the bunkhouse. 

Coming in? asks Katherine. I'll show you my book.

Not me, says Baudin, I'm not supposed to be here.

I thought not, says the kakapo. An invertebrate on a research team!

Au revoir, joli perroquet, says Baudin.

He shuffles off.

He's quite nice, observes Katherine. It's the other one you want to watch out for.

The kakapo nods sagely, and follows Katherine into the bunkhouse. 

Katherine looks for the book.

Best Boomer

That's strange, says Dufresne. Where has Baudin gone?

Perhaps he has gone for a piddle, says David.

Is that what you call it? says Dufresne.

Not generally, the word just popped out, says David. I expect he'll be back soon. If not, use your whistle.

Piddle, says Dufresne. I like it.

But Baudin has not gone for a piddle.

He is following the kakapo.

She seems to sense it.

After a short distance she stops.

Baudin scrapes to a halt, but not before the kakapo hears scraping.

I don't mind you following me, says the kakapo.

That's nice, says Baudin.

You seemed well informed about us, says the kakapo.

That was my friend, says Baudin.  

I only saw you, says the kakapo.

You saw Dufresne, says Baudin. He knows more than me about the kakapo.

It that why you're following me? asks the kakapo.

Could be, says Baudin. 

It is, says the kakapo. You were jealous.

Merely curious, says Baudin. About this lek business.

Prrrt! says the kakapo. I'm not really going.

You said you were, says Baudin.

But not that I was being truthful, says the kakapo.

How droll, says Baudin. Why aren't you going?

We females always pick the same guy, says the kakapo.

The best boomer? says Baudin. Or....hooter?

Think about it, says the kakapo. 

Only one winner, says Baudin.

It used to be fun, says the kakapo. 

But no longer, says Baudin. One grows weary. I know what you mean.

They continue shuffling and stamping towards who knows where.

Suddenly Baudin sees a thin beam of torchlight. 

And Katherine's feet.

Above which, her striped long johns.

Hello! says Katherine. I see you have found one!

She writes something in a small notebook.

Already counted, says Baudin.

More than once, says the kakapo. 

The Missing Observer

The observers have positioned themselves behind the tree.

The box sits on the ground, open, inviting.

A thin scent of protein ball seeds issues out.

And here comes a solitary kakapo, advancing.

A female, not that the observers can tell.

She is smaller, more finely mottled, her beak is slightly longer, her legs pinkish, and there is a bare patch of skin on her belly.

She stops at the box entrance.

Peers inside.

Enter! hisses Dufresne, from the other side of the tree trunk.

Doesn't smell right, says the kakapo.

How should it smell? asks Dufresne, coming out.

Like rimu fruit, says the kakapo. 

We couldn't find any, says Dufresne. But we have provided a smattering of seeds.

Then you should alter your sign, says the kakapo.

David steps out from behind the tree now.

So you can read, says David. 

I am a female, says the kakapo.

Now they know she's a female. But not why she can read.

What do you want? asks the female. I'm heading up country. I won't enter your box.

Our prime purpose is to count you, says David. Will you stay for a moment and answer some questions? 

He takes out a notebook, and pencil.

Here we go, says the kakapo. What questions? 

How many are there of you on the island? asks David. 

Follow me and you'll see, says the kakapo. It's lek time.

You're lying, says Dufresne.

What does a lobster know about anything? asks the kakapo.

I know what a lek is, says Dufresne. And I can't hear any hooting or booming.

What is it? asks David. 

A breeding system, says Dufresne. Each male kakapo clears a space, digs a shallow bowl and makes several tracks leading towards it. Then he sits in his bowl and makes booming sounds to attract females.

You make it sound silly, says the kakapo. 

It is silly, says Dufresne.

The kakapo shuffles off, huffing her green and yellow blotched feathers, stamping her pinkish grey legs.

We've lost her, says David. Oh well, at least we've observed her. 

He writes: Spotted at 8.15pm.  Kakapo. One. Female.

David and Dufresne go back behind the tree, expecting to see Baudin there.

Perhaps snoozing.

But Baudin has gone.

Trap Fantastique

David approaches the box.

It is just as he thought. 

Baudin and Dufresne are behind it.

He looks into the box. 

It appears to be empty.

So this is your plan, says David. I might join you.

Bien! says Baudin. Then you can help move the box.

Where to? asks David.

Down the track, then off the track, says Dufresne. Under a tree would be desirable. In the low vegetation.

You have thought of everything, says David

The lobsters look pleased.

Where are the fruits of the rimu? asks David, pushing the box along with his foot.

Hush! There are none. This sign is merely a ruse to entice the kakapo, says Baudin. 

I see, says David. 

He kicks the box further along the trail, and the lobsters follow.

He stops at a tree.

This spot will do nicely, says Baudin. 

In which direction do you want the sign facing? asks David. 

Any direction, says Dufresne. We don't know which way they will come.

I assume you want the box on its side, says David. So the kakapo, should he or she be enticed by the sign, is able to enter.

The lobsters had not thought of that, although it is obvious.

The kakapo does not fly.

How then, will the approaching kakapo read the sign?

I know what you're thinking, says David. But if I tip the box forward like so, the sign on the flap acts like a welcome mat.

A welcome mat cannot be read from a distance, says Dufresne.

If you had any fruits of rimu, says David, the kakapo would smell them.

The lobsters agree it's a shame they don't have any fruits of rimu.

What else do they eat? asks David. 

Seeds, pollen and sapwood of trees, says Dufresne.

I may have some odd protein ball seeds in my pocket, says David.

He has! Fantastique! It has all come together, as things sometimes do.

David pushes a few seeds into the far corner of the trap box, sets the welcome flap at a slight angle for maximum visibility to any passing kakapo, and steps back.

All that they have to do now is find a secluded spot to observe from..... 

To Write What With

It is evening, on Te Hauturu-o-Toi.

A kakapo waddles through the low vegetation. It is hungry.

O

for the fruits of the rimu

joyful beak, squeezing tart juices

into me-kaka

 O 

But there are no fruits of the rimu to be found, this evening.

The kakapo hears the sound of claws scraping.

It stops, but is hardly afraid.

Baudin and Dufresne do not notice the kakapo. 

They are too busy plotting to catch it.

Dufresne: There will surely be boxes.

Baudin: It cannot be far.

Dufresne: All we need is one box, and something to write with.

Baudin: To write what with?

Dufresne: Rimu Fruit Inside.

Baudin: Ingenious. Of course we are assuming...

Dufresne: .....that the kakapo can read. 

They shuffle through the low vegetation in the gathering gloom towards the quarantine station.

Gaius and Arthur are setting out for a night of kakapo spotting.

Katherine is writing a postcard, to a friend.

I'll catch up with you later, says Katherine. I'll look for your torchlight.

I'll go somewhere different, says David.

David heads towards the quarantine station.

The door is open.

A box sits in the doorway.

That shouldn't be there, says David. 

The box starts moving.

Rats, thinks David. No, not rats. There are no rats on the island.

He watches the box. 

It turns left.

Now he can see that something is written on one of the flaps, which has flopped open.

Fruits de .....

This has been crossed out.

Underneath he reads:

Welcome. Rimu Fruit Inside

Fruits De Rimu

Baudin and Dufresne are up and about, when Arthur arrives with the whistles.

Gaius thought you might want these, says Arthur.

The two lobster sea captains look at the whistles, pink and yellow.

Thank you, says Baudin, taking the yellow.

I might have wanted the yellow, says Dufresne.

What's wrong with the pink? asks Baudin.

I had yellow before, says Dufresne. 

It doesn't matter, says Arthur. It'll be dark. It's the sound of the whistle that matters.

So Baudin keeps the yellow.

Before you go, Arthur, says Baudin, what do you know about the kakapo?

It's an owl parrot, says Arthur.

An owl parrot, says Dufresne. 

Endangered, says Arthur. That's all I know.

We'd appreciate a description, says Baudin. We don't want to waste our efforts.

Arthur takes his phone out and brings up a photo. 

There's some info under the photo, says Arthur. 

It would be easier if it was in French, says Baudin. 

Arthur types in le kakapo.

Bon.

The lobsters read the French info.

Joli plumage verte-jaune. Incapable de voler.

Incapable of flying, says Baudin. That's to our advantage.

Finished? says Arthur.

Fini, says Dufresne. You don't have a large box, do you?

With a lid, says Baudin.

And something a kakapo might like to eat, says Dufresne. 

No, says Arthur. What might that be?

How do we know? asks Dufresne. Give me your phone again.

Le kakapo. Mangent quoi?

It take him ages to type in the question.

Finally the answer comes up.

Les fruits de rimu.

Now you know, says Arthur. Good luck finding the fruits de rimu in the winter.

Arthur leaves.

The sea captains look at one another.

Ha! How the kakapo will be tempted, if he thinks that the trap box contains fruits de rimu!

Even if it doesn't.

But finding a box is the problem.

Not Exactly Harmonious

Note: gastric whistle, writes Gaius.

What did it sound like? he asks.

Stomach-curdling, says David.

I hope you advised them to use caution, says Gaius.

Better than that, says David. 

What could be better than caution? asks Gaius.

I rendered them immobile, says David.

Immobile? says Katherine. For goodness sake, how?

The protein balls, says David. Gummed up their whistle works.

That is all very fine, says Gaius. But you have left them with no means of locating one another, should they become separated.

To be honest, says David, I didn't do it on purpose.

What then? asks Katherine.

I simply offered them sustenance, says David. As we all agreed I should do.

That is true, says Gaius. Then why did you pretend it was a plan to gum up their gastric whistles?

I only thought of it when I was talking to Vello, says David. He was being annoying. I decided to talk myself up.

Ha ha, laughs Gaius. And what did he want, besides being annoying?

To remind me about the Tour de France, says David.

Jumping Jupiter! says Gaius. When is it? 

The Grand Depart is on the 26th of June, in Brittany, says Katherine. Had you forgotten?

I had, says Gaius. Where are we now?

The ninth, says Katherine. 

Gaius does some quick subtracting.

Where is Arthur? says Gaius.

Arthur is not back yet from scrubbing his shoes.

But wait, here he is now.

Arthur, did you know the Tour starts in two and a half weeks? says Gaius.

Mm, says Arthur.

Have you forgotten about all the quarantine hoops we'll have to jump through to get there? asks Gaius.

No need to get agitated, says Arthur. We're in New Zealand. I'll fix it.

Gaius relaxes.

I knew I could rely on you, Arthur, says Gaius. And as you're here, will you take a couple of novelty whistles to the lobsters, who are indisposed, thanks to David.

I hope you mean that in a good way, says David.

Gaius does not reply, but reaches into a packet of trail mix, and chews on a nut.

Arthur heads off with two whistles, a pink and a yellow.

See You In Brittany

David walks back to the bunkhouse, leaving Baudin and Dufresne digesting their protein balls.

His phone rings. It's Vello.

Vello! says David.

How's the island adventure? asks Vello.

I'm on a mission, at the moment, says David.

So am I, says Vello.

I'm not sure I performed it correctly, says David. I was sent to carry out surveillance on Baudin and Dufresne. But I made myself known to them.

I'm sure it won't matter, says Vello.

I did learn their intentions, says David.

Well, there you go, says Vello. What are their intentions?

To count kakapo, independently, says David. We suspected it might be more sinister. But it isn't.

You are too trusting, says Vello.

No, I fed them protein balls as a precaution and left them immobile, says David.

That doesn't sound like you, says Vello. Bravo! When are you returning?

We leave the island at four tomorrow, says David. Why?

The Tour! says Vello. I hope you haven't forgotten.

Of course not, says David. Should I fly straight from Auckland to Brest?

No, says Vello. There are too many quarantine restrictions. You and Gaius must travel with me in the bubble.

Why don't you form your own bubble, says David. Gaius, Arthur and I will form a separate bubble, and we'll meet up in Brest. 

I knew you shouldn't have gone to New Zealand, says Vello. 

Au revoir, mon ami, says David. See you in Brittany.

He heads for the bunkhouse, where two more cans of baked beans have been opened.

Is this dinner? asks David.

Afraid so, says Katherine. I don't suppose you still have those protein balls?

The lobsters have eaten them, says David. They swallowed them whole. Did you know lobsters could do gastric whistles?

No, says Katherine.

Did you know, Gaius? asks David.

No I didn't, says Gaius. Just a minute, I must write that down.

Nature Is Red

David blows his green whistle.

Baudin and Dufresne emerge from the undergrowth.

Ah, says David. I heard two piercing whistles, and guessed it was you.

It was, says Dufresne. 

Sounded a bit different from my whistle, says David.

It would, says Dufresne. We have lost our novelty whistles.

Where did you obtain new ones? asks David.

We didn't, says Baudin. We whistled through the gastric teeth in our stomachs.

And yet you accepted the novelty whistles, says David. Didn't you know you could gastric-whistle?

No, admits Captain Baudin. We didn't.

It is all very interesting, says David. I should keep a journal. By the way, you must be hungry, after your voyage.

We are happy to wait till this evening, says Dufresne.

Indeed, says Baudin. We'll be trapping the kakapo. 

I must talk to you about that, says David. 

No need, says Dufresne. We know how to do it.

Your intentions are at odds with our intentions, says David. The kakapo is endangered.

Nature is red in tooth and claw, says Dufresne. I should know, of all people.

Ha ha, laughs Baudin. You said people.

It was as a person I learned it, says Dufresne. 

I have brought you two protein balls, says David. Might that persuade you to count kakapo and not eat them?

We had no intention of eating them, says Baudin. What do you take us for? 

The word TRAP was mentioned, says David.

If you trap them you don't double-count them, says Baudin.

Apologies, says David. Here are the protein balls. 

He offers them round. 

I imagine you'll swallow them whole, says David. Will that affect your ability to whistle?

If only he had said it a split second sooner.

Too late now.

Overcoming Bad Whistles

Baudin and Dufresne have turned up on the island, says Katherine.

Where are they? asks Gaius.

Back at the dinghy, says Katherine. Arthur was fetching his shoes.

Good man, says Gaius. It's all very well to go about without shoes, but you never know what you might step on.

I know that, says Arthur.

But you haven't put them on, says David.

And I know that, says Arthur. 

You must scrub them, says Gaius. In the quarantine room. But don't let anyone see you.

Arthur goes off to the quarantine room.

The lobsters won't be joining us, says Katherine.

It's for the best, says Gaius.

But there may be a problem, says Katherine. They plan to trap kakapos tonight.

Trap them? says Gaius.

Someone should keep an eye on them, says David.

Not Arthur, says Gaius. I need him with me.

Perhaps David will keep an eye on them, says Katherine. 

If only I knew where they were, says David.

In the undergrowth close to the dinghy, says Katherine. They must be hungry. You could take them some food.

Now David has a task that is useful.

What do lobsters eat? asks David.

Fish, crabs, clams, snails, sea stars, mussels and sea urchins, says Gaius.

Protein balls? asks David.

At a pinch, says Gaius. Take a couple.

They wouldn't eat kakapos, would they? asks Katherine.

I should think not, says Gaius. They swallow food whole.

How uncomfortable that must be, initially, says Katherine.

One would have to ask them about that, says Gaius.

David takes two protein balls from the packet and drops them into his pocket.

He heads down to the shore.

Baudin and Dufresne have not gone far into the undergrowth.

They are planning their evening.

Should we split up? asks Dufresne.

Do you still have your whistle? asks Baudin.

No, says Dufresne, It will be at the bottom of the ocean.

Mine too, says Baudin. Question two, can you whistle without one?

Never tried, says Dufresne. 

Me neither, says Baudin. Let us attempt it.

They try.

Phooof. Phooof. What bad whistles. 

The problem is not having teeth, says Baudin.

But we have our GASTRIC teeth, says Dufresne.

The two lobsters attempt to manipulate their stomatogastric ganglia which control the rhythmic contractions of their stomachs, and gastric teeth.

David, approaching, hears two stomach-turning whistles.

We Stay Separate

Where is Captain Baudin? asks Katherine.

A fine welcome, says Dufresne.

At least you're here, says Katherine. 

Try again, says Dufresne.

How very pleasant to see you, says Katherine.

Likewise, says Dufresne.

How did you get here? asks Arthur. 

Washed ashore in the usual manner, says Dufresne.

With my scarf, says Katherine. I never thought I would see it again.

That scarf saved our lives, says Dufresne.

OUR lives? says Katherine. So Captain Baudin washed up with you? Where is he?

Arthur is already searching along the boulder-strewn shore.

He reaches the spot where the dinghy is tied to a tree.

Yes, his shoes are still in it.

And Captain Baudin lies beside the dinghy, looking up at the sky.

You made it, says Arthur. Did anyone help you?

No one, says Captain Baudin.

You can tell me, says Arthur.

Best if I don't, says Baudin. 

Does the name Yaah mean anything to you? asks Arthur.

No, says Baudin. 

So there is nothing to be learned from the lobsters. 

It would seem they drifted the eighty kilometres from Auckland to Te Hauturu-o-Toi, and fetched up among the boulders. By means of a scarf.

Such things rarely happen.

Arthur picks up his shoes.

What now? asks Captain Baudin.

We stay separate, says Arthur. 

What's that? says Katherine, coming across to the dinghy.

I was saying that we should stay separate, says Arthur. Or it might look like we arranged it.

True, says Katherine. We must remain separate parties.

Fine by us, says Captain Baudin. We will find our own accommodation, and tonight we will set out to trap kakapos.

We are not trapping them, says Katherine. We are here to count them.

Do your own thing, says Dufresne. We will do ours.

The two lobsters make their way over the boulders and disappear into the low vegetation.

Did we handle that badly? asks Katherine. 

Don't worry, says Arthur. Gaius will know what to do.

Faces to Faces

Katherine picks up her book.

Closes it. 

Does not notice that the first half of Proust's longest sentence is missing. 

Arthur looks up at the tree.

Just above head height, a thin curved beak withdraws into a knothole.

Katherine also has seen it.

That was the hihi, says Katherine. Also known as the stitchbird.

Uh-huh, says Arthur.

It's the only bird species that mates face to face, says Katherine.

You don't say, says Arthur.

I do say, says Katherine. Wikipedia.

Must be true then, says Arthur. 

Imagine, says Katherine.

But Arthur doesn't need to imagine.

However, the damage is done.

The hihi and the other hihi both heard it.

The only bird species that mates face to face! So what are the other birds doing?

This merits discussion.

Arthur meanwhile has turned his mind back to the money for wheelsets.

Could you call Margaret for me? asks Arthur. 

I suppose so, says Katherine, but I'd just say you have something to ask her. I'm not asking.

Uh, says Arthur.

What about your rich friend? asks Katherine. The one you called Yaah?

I'm not sure about his existence, says Arthur. He hasn't turned up yet.

Was he coming to the island? asks Katherine.

Don't know, says Arthur. But he would be arriving today, if he is.

With those irritating lobsters, says Katherine. What time is it?

Ten to four, says Arthur.

Let's walk to the landing, on the off-chance that he is arriving, says Katherine. And if he isn't, at least you can pick up your shoes.

They walk to the landing.

No vessels are on the horizon.

But something long has been snagged on a broken stick, in between two grey boulders.

That looks like my scarf! cries Katherine.

She picks her way over the boulders to retrieve it.

She lifts it. 

And comes face to face with Dufresne.

The Longest Beetle

Looking forward to tonight? asks Katherine.

What about tonight? asks Arthur. 

Going out with torches, to look for the kakapo, says Katherine. And we might spot that rare white kiwi.

Oh, that, says Arthur.

Am I right that your heart isn't in it? asks Katherine. Are you bored already?

I was talking to Sweezus, says Arthur. 

What's he up to? asks Katherine.

Trying to get money, says Arthur. Our team needs new wheelsets.

Team? says Katherine. Oh yes, the Tour de France. Don't tell me you're going?

In a bubble, says Arthur. 

What's wrong with your old wheels? asks Katherine.

Too heavy, says Arthur. All the other teams'll be getting new wheelsets.

How much are they? asks Katherine.

Three thousand two hundred dollars a set, says Arthur.

That doesn't surprise me, says Katherine.

Like to chip in? asks Arthur.

I'd like to, dear, says Katherine, but David would be highly offended if his mother chipped in to buy new wheelsets for a rival team.

Ouch! says Arthur.

Have you stepped on something? asks Katherine. You really ought to wear shoes.

Arthur has stepped on something. 

A giraffe beetle. New Zealand's longest beetle. It is lying legs up on the ground.

But no harm is done.

The beetle rights itself and scuttles off to enjoy the remaining seven days of its adult life. 

Arthur continues to work on Katherine.

Do you know anyone else who might want to chip in?

No, says Katherine. Why don't you look for a sponsor?

I'm stuck here on a tiny island, says Arthur. How can I?

You have a phone, says Katherine. Tell you what. Why don't you call my friend Margaret. She has friends in the Geological Society. In fact, she organises their picnics.

I know Margaret, says Arthur. She doesn't like me.

Nonsense, dear, says Katherine. Everyone likes you.

They have now arrived at the tree.

Katherine's book lies open at Chapter Five: How to Express Your Emotions.

She had not left it open at Chapter Five.

Looks like the wind must have done it.

Wisdom Is In It

What's this? asks the other hihi.

Wisdom, says the one who ripped out the page.

It's short, says the other hihi. 

There's more on the back, says the ripper hihi.

Let's see, says the other hihi. O this looks like wisdom indeed.

They both regard the part of the text which starts half way down the page, travels left to right in a conventional manner, then drops vertically to the bottom of the page before rising and falling five times right to left ending in the left margin before making one final curve and a straight dash to the right margin after which of course there is nothing, but most tantalisingly, no full stop which suggests that the sentence continues.

If only we could read it, says the other hihi. 

If only they could, they might be disappointed.

Proust's longest sentence begins: A sofa that had risen up from dreamland between a pair of new and thoroughly substantial armchairs....

They decide to crumple the paper to furnish their nest.

The book lies under the tree, where Katherine left it.

A slight wind ruffles the pages.

Katherine, who has now visited the quarantine station toilet, remembers her book.

I must go back and retrieve it, thinks Katherine. I'll just tell them I'm going.

She opens the door of the bunkhouse.

Gaius and David are there, eating baked beans from two tins.

Two tins? says Katherine. 

I'm finishing Arthur's says Gaius. So as not to waste it.

Where is Arthur? asks Katherine.

Outside, making a phone call, says David.

I left my book behind, says Katherine. I'm going to get it. Anyone want to come with me?

Arthur has just come back in.

I'll come with you, says Arthur.

Katherine is pleased that Arthur wants to come with her.

And Arthur of course has his reasons.