Viator

—It’s as I said. We were a crew, conditioned to work together. If I could have recruited Swedish merchant officers to live aboard Viator, I would have done so. I hoped to recreate the conditions of the voyage as closely as possible. As things stood, I was forced to recruit five strangers. Men who had suffered psychological damage due to their homelessness and were conditioned to be distrustful. That you discuss the matter less than we did is hardly surprising. In retrospect, I think I may have been overly exacting. I think I could have put anyone aboard Viator. Their racial heritage, the number of men—I doubt these things were crucial.

Seething, Wilander said, A moment ago, when you said you weren’t just a crazy old man…What the fuck’s wrong with you? What gave you the right to use us?

—For twenty years I’ve been obsessed with what happened to Viator. I will admit to…

—I don’t give a damn about your obsession. You had no right to make us part of an experiment.

—I won’t deny it. But stop a moment! Think! Mortensen and Nygaard would not have seen the winter if I hadn’t intervened in their lives. As for the rest of you, look at yourself. When you came into the office, you had nothing.

—No, no, no! Wilander said. Don’t try to paint yourself as Saint Lunde. That’s not going to fly.

—You had nothing, Lunde insisted. No prospects, no money, no friends. No hope. How much longer would you have lasted if I hadn’t extended a hand? Another year? Two? Tell me how I’ve injured you.

—I don’t know how. That’s the problem. That’s what we’re talking about.

—Well, let’s talk about it, then. I’ll finish my story. That addresses your problem. After that we can discuss these other issues.

Wilander left his chair, too angry to speak, annoyed by Lunde’s patronizing calm, and went to stand in the outer door of the mess. The day had grown bright and still, the air crisp, the firs were etched against the light. He stepped out onto the deck and walked toward the stern.

—Hello? Lunde said.

—Go ahead. Tell your story.

—Very well. Where was I?

—Repairing the engines. Discussing things.

—That’s right. Yes. Lunde coughed again, a delicate cough this time, like punctuation. Our discussions were informal. If I was on the bridge with Spekke, say, the subject would come up. When I went to the engine room to check on the repairs, Ulghren and Ottendahl might mention it. Yet we never sat down to hash things out. We didn’t talk at all when we were off-duty—off-duty, the men hid in their cabins. There was no more socializing. No drinking, no chatting. Nevertheless, the discussions, such as they were, grew heated. And it became apparent that our thoughts concerning Viator were developing along similar lines. The central thought, the one we agreed upon, was that Viator did not wish to die. What we failed to agree upon, however, was what should be done about this. On that matter, there was no consensus. Kameus, for instance, believed Viator had her own purposes and that we were interfering in them. An outsider would have thought us insane. But…Well, you’ve experienced life aboard Viator. You understand how the insane can come to seem rational. Whenever I was alone, on the bridge or in my cabin, I plotted courses north and east from our position. I did not rely on the master charts; I made my own. Another officer would not have been able to read them—I coded their referents, wanting to keep them private. They expressed Viator’s will. She guided my hand as I drew. I knew her mind. I believed all this implicitly, although I tried to doubt it. It terrified me. If true, it was beyond my ability to understand. If false, I was crazy. And yet I also felt…blessed. I knew something remarkable was taking place, something that I could characterize generally, but couldn’t put a precise name to.

—It’s the same, Wilander said. There are differences, but the same thing is happening again.

He had stopped at the point on the rail where Viator’s stern emerged from the forest. Beyond, the sea stretched a glittering blue beneath a sky crowded with white clouds so huge and stately, they might have been migratory nations bursting with the purity of their founding ideals. The sight comforted him, not by its beauty, but by the fact that he seemed removed from it, as if it were something he was seeing through an airplane window.