The mariner sat in solitary darkness in a corner of the tavern, lost in abstraction. She thought of her recent life and about her choices—those she had made, and those options she had before her.
What sort of tar was she? Was this really the direction she wanted her life to take? What sort of future could she have in life? At 32, she had a long life ahead of her; was a life on the rolling deeps, harpooning whales and toting blubber, really something she could feel proud of at 70?
She thought back to her childhood, those happy years before she’d been signed up to this apprenticeship. Her nanny had been careless: she had inadvertently contracted her to this career on the “good” ship Erstwhile. Her life had been warped into a new posture with that ludicrous error; she’d had no option but to comply.
But now the contract was nearly over. Her birthday was coming and she would be out of her indentures. Surely now, if ever, was the time to replace her sailing life with that of her dream job as a disc jockey.