Orb by Gary Tarulli Page A

by seeing our planet, then our sun, being relegated to seemingly inconsequential and disappearing specks. In a sense, what has been stripped away is the solace of the Earth as a place of refuge, as a sanctuary.”
    I thought, for the briefest of moments, I saw a look of sadness register on Thompson’s face. If that look was there, it was soon replaced by one of skepticism as he contemplated what I had proposed. He wasn’t a person to be rushed to judgment. And he rarely equivocated. But he did now. “Must say, I’m torn between thinking that’s a pile of crap or a clever insight. Let’s say it’s the latter, how do we address it?”
    “Stress is harder to deal with when the cause is unidentified,” I answered.
    “Understood. Go ahead, advance your theory with the rest of the crew. It should make some amusing dinner conversation anyway. Not withstanding your theory, however, there remain the more obvious causes of stress to deal with.”
    “Yes,” I responded, “and we have seen everyone onboard affected and coping in different ways … and not coping.”
    “Which brings us to our principal concern, Doctor Melhaus.”
    “You’ve been speaking to Kelly?”
    “She approached me earlier. Said you’re the person that really started her thinking. She wasn’t comfortable with Melhaus’s blatantly antisocial behavior today. I agreed, but let’s face it, he’s always set himself apart. Arguably more now. Kelly believes he is putting too much pressure on himself. Has yet to see any other warning signs of a meltdown—with the possible exception of a sleep disorder—and medication is treating that symptom. She has additional drugs that may provide some relief, but Melhaus would refuse to take anything he felt would even remotely impair his cognitive abilities.”
    “And let me guess, he’s not receptive to discussing this topic, is he?”
    “No. I already tried. He was in here before you.”
    “And so…?”
    “…and so for the present we’ll do what we’re doing, which is letting him work his butt off. Keep an eye on him. Anything that represents a change, better or worse, I’ll probably see it, but keep me informed. As for the rest of the crew, they seem to be doing OK to you? Paul and Diana seem to be rock solid.”
    “Seem so.”
    “And you and Kelly? Together and separately, that is.”
    “Fine,” I responded, electing not to elaborate. I was not surprised that he was aware of our relationship. There was no reason to hide our affection for each other, but we didn’t think it appropriate to flaunt it either.
    “Good,” said Thompson, apparently satisfied with my brief answer.
    “And now you’ll tell me about that bow?” I asked.
    “What makes you believe there’s something to tell?”
    “You’re being evasive.”
    Thompson gave me a long scrutinizing look. As if he was sizing me up. “You’re a persistent pain in the ass,” he said.
    I agreed.
    “I have many pressing things to attend to before tomorrow’s set-down. You’ll have to be satisfied with the abridged version.” Thompson, looking down at his weathered hands, made two tight fists. He then slowly unclenched them, staring pensively at palms and fingers, almost as if his hands were triggering a memory or were an integral part of the story he was about to divulge.
    “You’ve heard,” he began matter-of-factly, “of the huge wildlife preserve in South Africa known as Kruger National Park. The park was established in 1898 or 1926, I don’t recall the exact date, it’s not important, but anyone living then could scarcely have imagined how the planet would look three hundred years hence, how we would foul our nest so badly that the park would be one of the world’s last remaining sanctuaries for large mammals. In any event, I was afforded the rare opportunity to serve two years as a Park wildlife warden. Little salary, mind you, but I was permitted to hunt game when—and only when—doing so benefited the Park’s