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The Song: A Tor.com Original
The Song: A Tor.com Original
The Song: A Tor.com Original
Ebook35 pages32 minutes

The Song: A Tor.com Original

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A powerful near future story about two people on a whale-processing rig: one a researcher, the other a worker—and the discovery they make by listening to whale song.

The Song is a Tor.com Original from Erinn L. Kemper.

At the Publisher's request, this title is being sold without Digital Rights Management Software (DRM) applied.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateFeb 13, 2019
ISBN9781250317889
The Song: A Tor.com Original
Author

Erinn L. Kemper

Erinn L. Kemper is a Canadian who now lives on the Caribbean coast of Costa Rica where she wakes with the toucans and howler monkeys, writes in her hammock, walks her dog on the beach, and drinks ridiculous amounts of coffee, at least until happy hour. Erinn has sold stories to Cemetery Dance Magazine and Black Static and appears in various anthologies including Adam’s Ladder and Behold! Oddities, Curiosities and Undefinable Wonders.

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    Book preview

    The Song - Erinn L. Kemper

    Whale song echoed through the water in long, wistful moans. A pod calling to one another, repeating the same refrain.

    Dan paused in his inspection of the pier and floated at the ten-meter mark. A slight chill filtered through his wet suit and he tucked his gloved hands into his armpits to keep them warm.

    Beyond the steel lattice that supported the oil rig—repurposed and renamed SeaRanch 18—ranged the twilight murk of open sea. No hulking shadows drifted along the edges of visibility. If the whales came within eyesight, their song would give him one bitch of an earache.

    Pods rarely ventured near the rig. Some orcas had been acting up, but that was in a distant feeding ground. And sharks only circled in when the cowboys harvested a whale to process and package for transport. With no active orders, it was a good time for Dan to do a round of maintenance.

    Whale music had a weight to it, a ponderous, profound theme. The deeper notes resonated in his tissue and filled him with sweet nostalgia. A stuttering creak swept through—the slow rocking of a porch swing, a patio door caught in a summer draft. Then, the soft groan of settling into freshly laundered sheets for a long, long

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