On deck, no one was talking and the prisoner didn’t have much to say. He loved the sea, the weather was beautiful, and the creaky Sea Star seemed right as rain. The sky was a delight. He watched the clouds roll in from the horizon and then get sucked into the void of space where high noon would have been if there was a sun.

A big cloud, a nimbus, rolled toward the Sea Star. The prisoner’s gaze drifted from the cloud to the cyan sky at the horizon. He rolled his gaze back above where the colors of the sky darkened until a ring of sunset hues began near sixty degrees. Near the vertical, a blue gas planet with orange stripes was circled by sharp gray-brown rings like Saturn’s. The forward edge of the cloud began to dance against the sunset and the poofy cloud became turbulent at the sky’s last purple edge before the star field began. A few tornadoes formed far above the Sea Star and then, all at once, the whole cloud, even the calm part still set against the blue sky, was sucked out into space never to be seen or heard from again.

“Well, dang,” the prisoner said.

Rosalie surprised him, “I used to watch clouds with my husband.” The prisoner turned. She said, “He would have loved to see that.”

The prisoner said, “It doesn’t quite look natural does it?”

She said, “You’re one to talk, mister! You’re not looking too good.”

He glanced at his arm again but, really, he was watching the clouds to keep his mind off of it. His skin was looking a little waxy. He was constipated. He said, “I mean... if the clouds at the edge get sucked in there then how come all the air doesn’t get sucked out too?”

“Air?,” she giggled.

“What’s funny?”

“There’s no air, love. All of this is magic.”

“Oh magic, huh? Who told you that?”

“It just is. Can’t you see it?”

“I can’t, no.”

“Are you ok?,” she put her hand on his shoulder.

His shoulder felt numb like it had fallen asleep but without the pins and needles. He only wore a thin tunic but her touch felt like he was under a heavy coat. He pointed to the deck and said, “Well, if it’s magic then why are those ropes’ shadows over there when there’s no sun in the sky over there?” He pointed to the sky behind her.

Rosalie said, “Sorry. Everyone is so quiet.” Then she said, “We’re going to be here a while and you just reminded me of Ben when you were looking up at the clouds like that.” He didn’t say anything. “I’m Rosalie,” she said.

He took her up on it. The prisoner said, “Well, hello there, Rosalie.” He took her extended hand and said, “I’m having a problem understanding what’s going on.”

“Having A Problem Understanding What’s Going On?! Such a long name!” The prisoner liked her joke. She said, “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” he said. After a moment he said, “So, Rosalie, tell me. What are you up to these days?”

“Not much, just waiting for the viewing to start.”

“Do you remember how you got here?”

“I sure do. I died in my sleep and woke up in a room at Barney’s.”

He thought about it and when she didn’t say more, he asked, “And who is Barney and what belongs to him?”

“Barney keeps the inn at the Port of Higher Calls. Rejoice, my friend. We are Ascendant!” He couldn’t share her enthusiasm. She saw on his face that he was sad and the extent of his ignorance registered with her. She said, “Do you remember your path, love?”

“My path?” Her eyes widened and he said, “No, I don’t remember anything.” He looked around for another cloud that might disappear but they were all far out in the blue zone. His headache had worsened since he began talking. The prisoner said, “What was your path?”

“Oh! I was a witch!,” and she cackled an emphatically witchy cackle.

The prisoner thought about it and went with it. “A witch, huh? What’s a witch do?”

“Professionally? Mostly I did remote viewing work for various shady organizations. Then after Ben died I retired and moved to the mountains.”

That rung his bell. A long and craggy canyon formed in his mind. In the distance the floor of the valley was green. Higher up, there were no plants, only rocks. Then it was gone and he couldn’t be sure he’d seen it.

Rosalie saw the thoughts on his face. “You know... we’re all about the same as you. No one knows what’s to come. Everyone’s just waiting and thinking.”

He glanced around. There was a skeleton crew on deck with about a hundred other somber Ascendant quietly alone on the big ship.

Rosalie said, “It’s just that you reminded me of Ben so much there. I didn’t mean to bother you.”

He said, “No, it’s fine. I don’t mind.” She looked to the horizon. He began, “You know the other day—,” but he corrected himself since there was no night or day, or even any time at all other than the clouds blowing across the sky and ship’s pendulum gait. He said instead, “When I fell asleep, you were there.”

“Did you fall asleep?”

“I don’t know, but you were there, right?”

“I was. I was in my own little world thinking about things and then Mr. Bicklesworth starts raging like a madman and charging over to us, ‘Shake ‘im ‘wake! Shake ‘im ‘wake!,’ and I shook your arm but you didn’t seem asleep to me.”

The prisoner said, “He brought me to see the doctor. He mentioned an orientation.”

Rosalie said, “You don’t remember it?”

The prisoner said, “Can you tell me what they said?”

She said, “Sure I can, love,” and she told him.