6/7

Despite the mask to block the lite, i wake ~hourly at ~nite, and seems it's always lite. Last nite, 2am: lite almost-dawn sky.

Out early, sea glassy. Boated over to Taku Glacier. i was the only 1 there.

...except the dolphin...

Then headed toward Petersburg. I saw whale spouts, 1 whale tail. Dolphins.

As seems a pattern, it got very rough, so i tried to bail out, went to a nearby north-facing cove for protection from the south wind, intending to stop, but the wind was waving the cove from the north. Odd. So kept going, intending to find another stopping place, but i rounded a minor point and the wind died. The rest of the day was almost a mirror.

So i am racing across the mirror-like surface at cruise speed, back in cell contact with Cathy. We text back & forth and i google philosophy on my phone as i steer thru wilderness islands. Sureal.

I told her she & i are like the characters in William Gibson's novel "Neuromancer": while i do, she hacks in support. (It's a common idea in movies now, 'The Matrix', 'The Italian Job', 'The Accountant', etc etc, but i'm sure it was new in 1984.)

"A year here and he still dreamed of cyberspace, hope fading nightly. All the speed he took, all the turns he'd taken and the corners he cut in Night City, and he'd still see the matrix in his dreams, bright lattices of logic unfolding across that colourless void... The Sprawl was a long, strange way home now, and he was no Console Man, no cyberspace cowboy. Just another hustler, trying to make it through. But the dreams came on in the Japanese night like livewire voodoo, and he'd cry for it, cry in his sleep, and wake alone in the dark, curled in his capsule in some coffin hotel, hands clawed into the bedslab, temper foam bunched between his fingers, trying to reach the console that wasn't there."