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.

As The Fly Flies

Wittgenstein comes back, having hired a surfboard.

Can I go surfing? asks Terence.

No, says Wittgenstein. You would need proper lessons.

Have YOU had proper lessons? asks Terence.

I'm hoping to have proper lessons, says Wittgenstein. From Sweezus and Arthur.

They will have paddled out beyond the Old Bar, says Gaius.

 

Where the sharks are, says Terence.

I hope not, says Gaius.

I'll paddle out there myself, says Wittgenstein. 

It's not fair, says Terence.

If you fell off, says Gaius, you would sink to the bottom, and then what?

He'd feel like me, says Quiet-Tartus. Regretful.

No need to feel regretful, says Gaius. We're doing the best that we can.

I'm in a hole in the sand, says Quiet-Tartus. It's not the future I imagined.

Me either, says Terence. I imagined going surfing.

I imagined meeting other tree frogs, says Quiet-Tartus. Forming a gang. Improving our fitness for the competitions in Queensland.

Woo! says Terence. 

Commendable, says Gaius. That suits me, of course. 

But instead, here we are, says Quiet-Tartus.

Yes, says Terence. 

There you are! says Roo-kai, landing beside them. Good news. The Saltwater National Park is ten minutes away, as the crow flies.

Interesting that you should say as the crow flies, says Gaius.

What about as the fly flies? asks Terence.

I don't know how fast a fly flies, says Roo-kai. Alternatively, one could go in a Mazda.

A Mazda can't FLY, says Terence.

There is a road, says Roo-kai.

Let's hit the road! screams Quiet-Tartus. 

We shall, says Gaius. But the others are out on the ocean. They won't know where we are.

I'll fly out and tell them, says Roo-kai.

Tell them to watch out for sharks, says Terence.

All right, says Roo-kai.

He flies out towards the Old Bar, passing over Ludwig, who has stopped paddling and is lying face down on his surfboard

He is thinking, philosophically, of limits.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     

You Could Be Seaweed

Terence is on the beach, digging a hole.

Why are you digging a hole? asks Roo-kai.

I'm not digging a hole, says Terence. I'm making some shade for Quiet-Tartus.

That's thoughtful, says Quiet-Tartus. But I prefer tree shade.

Not many trees here, says Roo-kai. Only low bushes. Want me to fly off and look for some tall ones?

Please do, says Quiet-Tartus. Until you return, I shall stay in this hole.

It's not finished, says Terence.

Is there any shade in it? asks Quiet-Tartus.

At the bottom, says Terence.

Then it's finished, says Quiet-Tartus, hopping in.

Roo-kai flies away, to look for a possible rainforest.

Terence sits down, next to his hole, with Quiet-Tartus at the bottom.

See any other frogs? asks Quiet-Tartus.

I can't even see you, says Terence. Because you're yellow.

What about now? asks Quiet-Tartus, swelling his vocal sac, in preparation for screaming.

You could be seaweed, says Terence. The popping kind.

Quiet-Tartus screams.

A woman, who was walking towards the water, stops in her tracks and comes back.

What was that screaming? Have you buried your friend? You shouldn't do that.

He's not buried, says Terence.

The woman peers into the hole.

A TREE FROG! says the woman. On the beach! How unusual. 

She saw you, says Terence.

That's encouraging, says Quiet-Tartus

It shouldn't be here, says the woman. Take it back to the trees.

We're just waiting for my parrot to come back, says Terence. 

Where are your parents? asks the woman. 

Up there, says Terence, pointing.

The woman takes that to mean they are up at the Blowfish.

Is this them? asks the woman.

No, says Terence. That's Gaius and Ludwig.

Gaius and Ludwig approach, having finished their breakfast.

Ah, there you are, Terence, says Gaius. Where are your frog, and your parrot?

You know about this frog? asks the woman. You see he's been trying to bury it?

I haven't, says Terence. 

I'm sure he hasn't, says Gaius. He is fond of the frog, He has a rapport with it. 

It shouldn't be here on the beach in the hot sun, says the woman.

It isn't, says Ludwig. It's in a hole in the shade.

Screaming, says the woman.

Just to make it show up, says Terence.

The woman makes a sour face, and continues her walk to the water.

Roo-kai's looking for trees, says Terence.

Then we shall wait here until he returns, says Gaius. Ludwig, want to paddle?

I would rather try my hand at surfing, says Wittgenstein.

You go off then, says Gaius. Arthur and Sweezus will instruct you.

Are you sure? asks Wittgenstein.

Yes, yes, says Gaius. 

He sits down on the sand next to Terence, 

Quiet-Tartus remains in his hole.

Hard to say if he's feeling regretful.

Where Does That Leave Me?

They all head off to Old Bar.

Sweezus is driving the camper. 

Arthur is in the passenger seat.

Terence, Roo-kai and the Screaming Tree Frog, Quiet-Tartus, are in the back

We'll get brekky at Old Bar, says Sweezus.

Great, says Arthur.

And we'll look for frogs, says Terence.

Yeah, says Sweezus. There's trees and stuff there. 

I sincerely hope so, says Quiet-Tartus.

He sincerely hopes so, says Terence.

No need to repeat me, says Quiet-Tartus.

No need to repeat him, says Terence.

So why are you doing it? asks Arthur.

Because, what does quiet mean? asks Terence.

Not loud, says Arthur.

That's his name, says Terence. So you might not hear what he's saying.

I heard, says Sweezus. 

So did I, says Arthur. 

It's a NEW name, says Terence.

I'm not changing my modus operandi, says Quiet-Tartus. 

He's not changing... begins Terence. 

But he's forgotten the rest of the sentence.

He doesn't have to change, says Sweezus. 

Where does that leave me? asks Roo-kai.

Still a parrot, says Terence. 

Look out of the window, says Sweezus. You might see the sea.

Terence looks out of the window and sees coastal saltbush. Beyond it, the sea.

Old Bar is a sleepy coastal town, with one or two cafés.

Sweezus pulls up outside the Blowfish.

The Mazda has not arrived yet.

That's because Sweezus and Arthur left it all sandy, The seats were sandy, the floor was sandy and the boot was sandy. The windscreen was encrusted with small splattered insects, and Wittgenstein had to clean it, before they could leave.

By the time he and Gaius arrive at the Blowfish, Sweezus and Arthur have already eaten. 

Terence, Roo-kai and Quiet-Tartus have gone down to the beach.

Unsupervised? says Gaius.

No worries, says Sweezus. I reckon I can see them.

He and Arthur head off to the surf hire shop.

Gaius and Wittgenstein look at the menu.

Smashed Avo, says Gaius. I might have known.

Heaven Waffle, says Wittgenstein. That's different.

They are both hungry. 

For some time, they forget about Terence.

Quiet-Tartus

It's them. And the Mazda.

Sweezus and Arthur get out.

Yo! says Sweezus. We found you. 

We are easily spotted, says Wittgenstein. I'm glad to see that you've brought back the Mazda. 

It's a bit sandy inside, says Sweezus, brushing dried sand from his leg.

No doubt you'll clean it, says Wittgenstein. Come in, we're just enjoying a hot water.

No tea bags? says Arthur.

No tea bags, says Wittgenstein. I don't suppose you have any?

No way, says Sweezus. Didn't Midge leave some?

Not that we know of, says Wittgenstein.

He picks a few gum leaves.

Good one, says Sweezus. 

They enter the camper.

Yay! says Terence. You're back! Come and meet Froggy.

Don't call me Froggy, says the Screaming Tree Frog.

Quiet-Tartus, then, says Terence. That's what Gaius said. And don't complain about that.

You found one already! says Sweezus.

Only one so far, says Gaius. A litoria quiritatus. 

I like Quiet-Tartus, says the Screaming Tree Frog. 

Did you find a good surfing beach? asks Gaius.

Yeah, Old Bar, sixteen ks east of here, says Sweezus.

Well I'm glad you've got that out of your system, says Gaius.

We haven't, says Arthur. We came back to swap the Mazda for the camper.

Yeah, says Sweezus. The camper's much better for surfing.

And for sleeping, says Gaius. What about us? This won't do.

Come with us, says Arthur. There are plenty of frogs at Old Bar.

Are there? asks Gaius. You've heard them?

Arthur nods, although he hasn't.

Yippee! says Terence. We're going to a beach! And you're coming with us, Quiet-Tartus.

The Screaming Tree Frog must now make a decision.

He makes it. 

Okay.

He will come. Meet new Screaming Tree Frogs. Get a team up. And he'll be the leader, Quiet-Tartus.

Two Scales In Play

Wittgenstein awakes to the sound of a boiling kettle, and voices.

Are they back yet, with my Mazda? asks Wittgenstein.

Not yet, says Gaius. I'm just boiling a kettle.

Good, says Wittgenstein, sitting up.

Terence, Roo-kai and the Screaming Tree Frog are looking at a scrap of note paper.

They've made a map, says Gaius. The top dot is Queensland.

Is someone going? asks Wittgenstein.

We are, eventually, says Gaius. But this map is merely to help the Screaming Tree Frog get some idea of the distance.

It doesn't look all that far, says the Screaming Tree Frog.

There are two different scales in play here, says Gaius. The distance between here and your tree is on a different scale from the distance between here and Queensland.

Is it? says Terence.

You've lost me, says the Screaming Tree Frog.

And me, says Wittgenstein. Has that kettle boiled?

Yes, says Gaius. Now, did I bring tea bags?

He searches for tea bags.

Arthur would know where they are.

Drat! says Gaius. What do you say to a mug of hot water?

It's best to pass over the lack of a tea bag in silence, says Wittgenstein.

Does that mean you'll have it? asks Gaius. The hot water?

Wittgenstein indicates that he will.

What I'd like to know, says the Screaming Tree Frog, is how we got mixed up in the first place, if the Slender Bleating Tree Frogs live way up in Queensland?

Your loud calls, says Gaius. 

And that was enough? says the Screaming Tree Frog. What do they look like?

Slender, says Gaius. 

Are you saying I'm fat? asks the Screaming Tree Frog.

A white line down the side, and a black vocal sac, continues Gaius.  

Unbelievable, says the Screaming Tree Frog. 

Indeed. Your vocal sac is bright yellow. Hard to know how the two species were conflated, says Gaius. But the difference has been noted now.

I'd like to meet one, says the Screaming Tree Frog.

Me too, says Terence. You could have a competition.

That's what the Screaming Tree Frog had been thinking.

To see who's the fattest, adds Terence. You'd win.

That would be an unfair competition, says Gaius, sipping his hot water.

This hot water lacks something, says Wittgenstein.

Try adding a few eucalyptus leaves, says Gaius. 

Wittgenstein goes outside, just as a red Mazda pulls up in front of the camper

How The Past Points To The Future

In the morning, the Screaming Tree Frog hops up to the camper.

Terence and Roo-kai are waiting outside.

Terence is drawing a map with Gaius's pencil.

Is that for me? asks the Screaming Tree Frog.

It could be, says Terence. Where are you going?

Starting from here, says the Screaming Tree Frog. 

Then where? asks Terence.

Wherever there's a Slender Bleating Tree Frog, says the Screaming Tree Frog. 

This is a map that Terence is making for Gaius, says Roo-kai. 

But not about that, says Terence. It's about where we were going last night.

I told him it's pointless says Roo-kai.

Why pointless? asks the Screaming Tree Frog.

Morning, says Gaus, sliding open the door of the camper.

Guess what? says Terence. Look who's here!

Me, says the Screaming Tree Frog.

Wondrous! says Gaius. How did you find us?

The flowery camper, with these guys waiting outside.

Sounds like you had an arrangement, says Gaius.

We DID, says Terence. I'm doing a map.

He doesn't seem to need one, says Gaius.

It's for the future, says Terence. This is us. This is the trail we went on last night, this is the tree where we met Froggy.

Don't call me Froggy, says the Tree Frog.

What's your name? asks Terence.

We don't have names, says the Screaming Tree Frog.

Would you like one? asks Gaius. Your Latin name is Litoria quiritatus.

That's Greek to me, says the Screaming Tree Frog.

Ha ha, laughs Gaius. Come inside. I recall that you wanted to ask me a question.

They all go inside.

Wittgenstein is still snoring.

Gaius puts the kettle on, and waits for the question.

Where can I meet a Slender Bleating Tree Frog? asks the Screaming Tree Frog.

Queensland, says Gaius.

I might need more paper, says Terence.

Let me see this map, says Gaius. So, you went out last night by yourself?

With me, says Roo-kai. And this is the map we were going to leave you.

But we hadn't been yet, says Terence. So I'm doing it now.

I thought it was a map for the future, says Gaius.

So did I, says the Screaming Tree Frog.

It is now, says Terence. 

He makes a big dot in the very top corner, with a line going to it.

That will be Queensland.