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pass, and living bottom creatures, but inanimate obstructions could be every bit as solid as they looked.
When a living creature obscured a rocky projection or hole, and the wheel of the bicycle went through
the living thing, it could have trouble with the other. Successful navigation required a kind of
doublethink: an object's position and permanence, not its appearance, determined its effect. More or less.
They coasted bumpily down past the outer reef and into deeper water. But more trouble erupted.
A blue-green blob with darker splotches rose up from the sand in the wake of a scuttling crab. Caspar's
light speared it and suddenly the green became brighter as tentacles waved. It was an octopus, a large
one.
Caspar slowed, no doubt from curiosity. Don caught up, while Melanie remained behind. But Eleph, in
the middle, didn't realize what they were doing or what was there. He sped straight on into the waving
nest of mantle and tentacles.
Ink billowed. Eleph screamed and veered out of control again, covering his head. Meanwhile the
octopus, who had been traversed and left behind, turned brown and jetted for safer water. Each party
seemed as horrified by the encounter as the other.
For a moment Don and Gaspar stared, watching the accidental antagonists flee each other. Then a
chuckle started. Don wasn't sure who emitted the first choked peep, but in a moment it grew into
uncontrollable laughter. Both men had to put their feet down and lean over the handlebars to vent their
mirth. It was a fine release of tension.
When at last they subsided, Don looked up to find Eleph standing nearby, regarding them sourly.
Melanie stood behind him, her face straight. Abruptly the matter lost its humor.
Caspar alleviated the awkwardness by proceeding immediately to business. "We're deep enough now.
Eleph, do you have the instructions for our mission? We have been told nothing."
"I do not," Eleph replied. The episode of the octopus had not improved his social inclinations. "Perhaps
the next member of the party will have that information."
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Don had thought there would be three members, and Caspar had guessed four. Evidently there were five.
Caspar looked at Melanie. "How long hence?"
"Sixty hours," she replied. She had evidently known, but had kept silent, as it seemed she was supposed
to.
Caspar grimaced, and Don knew what he was thinking. Another two days and three nights before they
caught up to the final member of their party and learned what this was all about. Maybe.
"Well, let's find a comfortable spot to turn in," Caspar said. "Maybe we'll find a mound of gold ingots to
form into a camping site."
"Gold?" Melanie asked.
"From sunken treasure ships. There are a number, here in the channel between Florida and Cuba, and
they haven't all been found by a long shot. Whole fleets of Spanish galleons carried the Inca and Aztec
treasures to Spain, and storms took a number of them down. That cargo is worth billions, now."
"Maybe that's our mission," Don said. "To explore this region and map the remaining treasure ships."
"I'd be disappointed if so," Caspar said.
"Yes," Melanie agreed. "We have to hope that something more than greed is responsible for us."
"We can best find out by getting on with the mission," Eleph said. That damped the dialogue.
Caspar led the way to the more level bottom and located a peaceful hollow in the sand. There was no
sign of gold. This time they pitched their tents, which they had not bothered to do before: one for Eleph,
one for Melanie, and one formed from Don and Caspar's combined canvas.
This really was more comfortable than sleeping in the open, though the difference was more apparent
than real. There was nothing to harm them in their phased state anyway. But Don liked the feeling of
being in a protected, man-made place. Appearances were important to his emotions. Which brought him
back to the subject of Melanie.
Her appearance
He shoved that thought aside. The emotions were too complicated and confused. That business about the
autographs where had he gone wrong? Suddenly he had run afoul of her, and he didn't quite
understand how it had happened. So it was better to let it lie, for now.
"That wig," Caspar said.
So much for letting it lie! "You noticed it too," Don said with gentle irony.
"I want to be candid with you, because it might make a difference. Melanie is one attractive woman, and
I'd be interested in her. Except for that wig. If she meant to see whom it fazed, she succeeded."
Fazed. A pun, since they were all phased? Evidently not. "But there's more to a woman than hair," Don
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said, arguing the other side.
"I know that. You know that. Everybody knows that. But I have a thing about hair on a woman. I like it
long and flowing and smooth. I like to stroke it as I make love. My first crush was on a long-haired girl,
and I never got over it. So when I first saw Melanie I saw a nice figure and a pretty face, but the hair
didn't turn me on. Too short and curly. But hair can grow, so if she was otherwise all right, that could
come. But then she took off that wig, and I knew that her hair would never grow. A wig won't do it, for
me. The hair has to be real, just as the breasts have to be real. I don't claim this makes a lot of sense, but
romance doesn't necessarily make sense. Melanie is not on my horizon as anything other than an
associate or platonic friend, regardless of the other aspects of our association."
Don was troubled. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I can see you are shy with women. You wouldn't want to go after one actively. You sure
wouldn't compete with another man for one. Well, maybe you don't have the same hang-up as I do. In
that case, I just want you to know that there's no competition. If you can make it with Melanie, I'll be
your best man. The field is yours."
"B-but a woman can't just be p-parceled out!" Don protested.
"There's a difference between parceling and non-commitment. I think Melanie needs a man as much as
you need a woman. In fact I think you two might be just right for each other. If you were with her, you'd
keep her secret, and she'd love you for it, and other men would wonder what she saw in you, and she
would never give them the time of day. Ideal for you both, as I see it. I can see already that she's got her
quirks, but is one great catch of a woman. But matchmaking's not my business. I'll stay out of it. Just so
you know that no way am I going to be with her. She lost me when she lifted that wig, and she knows it.
You are in doubt. I mean, she doesn't know whether you can handle the business of the hair. When you
decide, that will be it. I won't mention this again."
"Th-thanks," Don said. His emotions remained as confused as ever. He knew that the best thing he could
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