Strandline

Strandline - Episode 5: Unnatural Resources

The banana leaf in Naveen’s hands suffered horribly as he waited for the nurse to come back on the line. “Mr. Patel?”

“Yes,” Naveen said into Petra’s cell phone. At this rate he was going to owe her a lot of money or a lot of favors.

“Mr. Parker is here. He’s in serious but stable condition. I can’t give out more information over the phone. Visiting hours…”

Naveen didn’t hear the rest of the woman’s sentence. Although he was relieved that Craig was alive and getting care, “serious but stable” didn’t sound good. “Thank you, ma’am,” he said and ended the call.

“Anything?”

Naveen turned away from the indoor garden to find Kristin padding into Petra’s living room, her shoulder-length black hair still damp from the shower. He presumed that her new clothes—beige capris and a purple babydoll T-shirt—were Petra’s. They fit the young asian woman reasonably well, if on the snug side. Naveen wasn’t complaining.

“Yes, finally!” he replied. “Craig’s in Queen’s.”

Kristin tilted her head. “Queens, New York?”

“No,” Naveen chuckled. “Queen’s Hospital in Hololulu.”

“Oh!” A chagrinned smile lit Kristin’s face. It was a nice change from her usual despondent expression. “So I guess you’re leaving soon? To visit him, I mean.”

Naveen nodded. “In a little while. Petra’s friend said to give him an hour. I kinda want to wander around the island for a while. We don’t—” He frowned, recalling the hole in the Champlain’s side. “—didn’t stay in port for long. The furthest inland I ever got before now was the Clamrock.”

“Clamrock?”

“A bar on the harbor. Fun place.”

Kristin looked at him thoughtfully. “You’ve been everywhere, haven’t you?”

“Compared to your friends? Nah. All over the Pacific rim, though.” Kristin had tensed at “friends,” which Naveen chose to ignore. She really needed to get over her whole nict thing. From what he’d seen, Miguel and Petra had been nothing but nice to her.

Petra, now wearing a blouse and wrap-around skirt, entered from the hallway on the opposite side of the room. “Anything?” she asked.

Naveen grinned. “Yeah. He’s okay…ish. In a hospital in Honolulu.”

“Oh, good. After seeing the news reports last night…”

Rather than dwell on that, Naveen walked up to Petra and returned her cell phone. “Thanks again. Seriously, if there’s anything I can do to help you guys, call me. Or, you know, drop in.” He grinned the last.

“We will,” Petra smiled back. Her gaze widened to include Kristin. “Naveen and I have an hour to kill before leaving for Hawaii. Shall I show you two around?”

Kristin managed a small smile. “Yes, please.”

“Ditto,” Naveen agreed.

Petra’s tour showed Naveen that there was more to Strandline than he’d imagined. From the Champlain he’d seen the row of west-facing windmills, the small airport, cluster of satellite dishes, and farmland dividing the southern half of the island into neat green squares. Most of the taller buildings—none more than four stories—were on the northern part of the island. He’d never had reason to wonder what they were for.

The largest building on the island was the power plant on the western shore. Petra pointed out what looked like three lines of yellow buoys about a half mile from the beach. They weren’t closely placed buoys, but the tops of huge, mostly submerged mechanical flaps. The devices swayed with the waves, moving hydraulic pistons. The pistons in turn pushed pressurized water through a pipeline that lead to a hydroelectric turbine in the power plant. Wave power, she called it. Ingenious! The next time Naveen visited, he’d try to get a look inside the power plant. He was curious about the mechanical details.

Much of the electricity from the power plant went to the adjoining desalination plant. Rainwater cisterns provided much of the drinking water for Strandline’s 1,200 inhabitants, but not enough for crop irrigation and the plastic, glass, and metal recycling plants. Raw materials from the latter came from marine waste, which was primarily small plastic bits floating beneath the surface. Much of the work available on Strandline involved harvesting the man-made bounty from the ocean, procuring shipments of beach trash from elsewhere in the Pacific, working in the recycling plants, or fashioning new items from the recycled material. Naveen had no doubt that they’d have raw material for years to come. He’d seen plenty of garbage on beaches during his travels.

After taking them past the power and desalination plants, Petra led Kristin and Naveen east through the residential part of the island. Most of the houses were the sort of underground ones like Petra’s. They stopped to say hello to a small group working on a new one. The work site looked more like a pile of sandy dirt with low walls of overlapping tires than the beginnings of a house. Apparently it all came together eventually.

The tour concluded with a walk along the bay on the Strandline’s east side. A mixture of earth-bermed and conventional buildings held offices, restaurants, and shops. It reminded Naveen of a rough-around-the-edges version of one of Hawaii’s coastal towns.

Naveen grinned when Petra stopped in front of the Clamrock. The bar’s weatherbeaten wood and corrugated metal exterior hadn’t changed a bit. “Are they open yet?” he asked.

Petra peered through one of the windows. “Not quite. It’s a little early for lunch.” To Naveen she said, “Tim should be ready for us in Honolulu.” Then she turned to Kristin. “Do you want to come with us? I need help to cover the distance in one jump. It’s okay if you don’t. I’ll get Miguel.”

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Photo credit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/midwayjourney/3924811723/