Free Teranesia by Greg Egan Page A

were already in the middle of the Banda Sea. The Tanimbar Islands were shown, but the smaller islands in the group were
     just blobs of two or three pixels, and the coastlines of the larger ones appeared crudely rendered, as if they’d been extracted
     automatically from a satellite image or a cheap printed map. With access to the net Prabir could have substituted the official
     navigation chart for the region, complete with water depths and information on currents; he’d viewed it a dozen times, but
     never thought to keep a copy in his notepad. But there was no use dwelling on that. At least Jakarta hadn’t been able to block
     the GPS signals; if he’d been left with dead reckoning, the sun and the stars, he would have been afraid to leave the island
     at all.
    He fitted the motor to the hull, filled the fuel tank, then dragged the empty boat into the shallows. An image came to him
     suddenly, from a video his parents had watched back in Calcutta; he’d been asleep in his mother’s arms for most of it, but
     he’d woken near the end. A man on a deserted beach had tried to drag a wooden boat into the ocean, to make his escape from
     some war or revolution. But the boat had been too large, too heavy, and no matter how he strove it had remained firmly beached.
     Prabir shuddered at the memory, but at least he knew they wouldn’t share that fate. Whatever else happened, they wouldn’t
     be stranded.
    He loaded everything into the boat. It sank dismayingly low in the water, but his parents’ combined weight must have been
     more than the weight of these provisions, and the boat had carried the whole family safely out to the ferry dozens of times.
     He fetched Madhusree; she didn’t struggle or complain as he fitted her life jacket, merely glaring at him suspiciously.
    Prabir put her in the boat, then climbed in himself and stood looking back across the beach. He wouldn’t be gone long; if
     he completed the test his parents would have no reason to send him away, and everything would be back to normal within a couple
     of days. The poisoned chrysalis would be forgiven; it was only one butterfly out of all the thousands on the island. Anything
     could be forgiven if he proved he was capable of getting Madhusree to safety.
    He started the motor. The boat rose up in the water and sped away from the beach, like an amphibious creature suddenly revived
     from a dormant state. Having the tiller firmly in his hand gave Prabir no immediate sense of control; he’d never been allowed
     to steer the boat. Nervously, he shifted the tiller back and forth a few degrees. The boat responded smoothly enough, turning
     more readily than he’d anticipated. This was encouraging, though it made his balance seem all the more precarious; if he stumbled
     and made the boat swerve sharply, the acceleration might knock him right off his feet.
    He had to remain standing to watch for the gap in the reef. Prabir was used to recognising the gap as they passed through
     it, when safe passage was a
fait accompli
. The breaking waves approached with alarming speed; he hunted for a stretch of darker water, leading to a region where the
     waves raised less foam. He spotted one candidate, but he had no clear memories of the approach to confirm his choice, and
     the signs were far from convincing.
    Madhusree looked up at him, disoriented, rubbing her eyes. ‘Baba should!’ she exclaimed accusingly. When Prabir ignored her
     she started crying. Tears flooded down her face, but Prabirwas unmoved; she could make the slightest fit of pique sound like gut-wrenching anguish. He’d done it himself, countless times.
     He could remember that much very clearly.
    ‘Shut up, Maddy,’ he suggested mildly. ‘You’re not fooling anyone.’ She redoubled her efforts, and gave herself hiccups. Now
     Prabir felt sorry for her; hiccups were awful.
    They were approaching the reef. The channel he’d picked looked more promising than ever, but now that he had a