Eternal Life Doesn't Last Long

We can't take the Mazda, says Gaius.  

Why not? asks Terence.

Licence, says Gaius. Mine has expired. We'll have to wait until Ludwig comes back from his lesson.

Or until Roo-kai comes back, says Terence. 

Roo-kai can do many things, says Gaius. But he can't drive a vehicle.

He can solve problems, says Terence.

They wait for Roo-kai to come back.

Terence amuses himself by trickling sand onto Quiet-Tartus, as the sun creeps higher.

At sea, Roo-kai has landed on the pointy end of Wittgenstein's surfboard.

The surfboard bobs up and down.

Wittgenstein's eyes open.

Enjoying yourself? asks Roo-kai.

Within the limits of language, says Wittgenstein.

Is that why you've stopped? asks Roo-kai.

It occurred to me, says Wittgenstein, that eternal life belongs to those who live in the present.

Then eternal life doesn't last long, says Roo-kai.

One should never stay on the barren heights of cleverness, says Wittgenstein.

I don't need to, says Roo-kai. 

Have you turned up for a reason? asks Wittgenstein.

Yes, says Roo-kai. Gaius, Terence and the frog want to go to the Saltwater National Park and search for other tree frogs, in the rainforest.

And they want me to come with them, says Wittgenstein.

They did not say so, says Roo-kai.

Are they walking? asks Wittgenstein.

They didn't say, says Roo-kai. But now, when you return to shore after your lesson, you will know where they went.

I won't know if they've got there, says Wittgenstein. 

You could follow them, says Roo-kai. In your car. 

This is true. He could follow them, in the Mazda. But the question is, does he have time for a lesson?

He is not yet at the sand bar.

High waves are breaking beyond it. He can see foam flying, and hear a loud thundering.

He can see horizontal green tunnels, collapsing.

Upturned surfboards.

And fins.

He makes a decision.