Jun Do fell asleep at his station, a rarity. He woke to the voice of the girl who rowed in the dark. She’d been rowing in the nude, she said, and under a sky that was “black and frilled, like a carnation stemmed in ink.” She’d had a vision that humans would one day return to the oceans, growing flippers and blowholes, that humanity would become one again in the oceans, and there’d be no intolerance or war. Poor girl, take a day off, he thought,
