First Stop by Charles Chin

Gentle rain fell the day I visited the ocean for the first time. The wind turbines in the distance were barely visible through the thin, silver sheets that fell from the sky. They stood like sentinels, clad in gleaming white armor against the looming horizon, arms outstretched as if to hold off a coming storm.

The sand was coarse, more like black and brown pebbles than actual sand. I pressed my bare feet into them, feeling for the water waiting below the surface. The cool drizzle had driven off the tourists, leaving me with the sound of raindrops quietly pattering the fabric of my umbrella, and the rolling lap of the sea.

I reached into the bag slung over my shoulder and pulled out a drone. Its oblong shape filled my hand, the surface a reflective black metal, split in half by a metallic gold band. I placed my thumb lightly on the center and raised my hand, palm up and outstretched, towards the gray horizon. 

The drone came to life, righting itself on end and opening to reveal an intricate array of gears and wheels. As I watched, the ebony dome which had previously capped the device separated, morphing into two sets of rotors, one on top of the other on a single axle. The golden clockwork mechanism inside glistened with fine droplets of rain.

The rotors kicked into gear as I placed my hand back into my pocket. The drone hung in the air, fighting against gravity and the wet sea breeze. 

I sighed, looking down at my feet. Even though I’d gone through this moment a thousand times in my head, I was still unsure of my words.

“Hey, Dad,” I said. “I know it’s been a while, but I finally decided it’s time. Time for me to get up and do what needs to be done.”

I shifted my eyes back to the drone, focusing my gaze on the golden wheels that spun inside. “I remember when you used to go on your trips into the city. You’d always come here and bring me back a seashell or neat looking rock you found. I’m not sure where all those trinkets went. Probably in a box somewhere. I should really try to find them again.”

I cleared my throat. “But the wind turbines really are spectacular, the way they march into the distance out to the horizon, just like you said. I’m sorry it took me so long to come see it myself.”

The drone swayed from a gust of wind as I pulled my jacket in tighter. “I made a list. Of all the places you used to tell me about. The mountain up North with the hydroponics garden in the sky, that cafe in Cardinal City where you wrote your thesis. All the places I was too busy, or too . . .” 

I trailed off. The rain had let up, but the sky remained steel gray, clouds moving faster than the wind would suggest. I closed my eyes. “I know it’s too late for a lot of things, but I just want to say I’m sorry. Sorry for the times I didn’t call back. For getting so busy with the business. Just . . . sorry.”

The drone hung in the air, as if waiting for me to gather my thoughts. “But, maybe I can make up for all the lost time. Make up for the pain my absence caused. You always said that to be remembered was to live forever, and I want to remember, no matter how much it hurts. I want to remember your stories, remember the ways you told them, the way your eyes sparkled when you spoke. You always looked so full of joy when you told your stories.”

I wiped an errant tear from my cheek, mixing it into the rain and sea that stuck to my skin, before taking a deep breath. “So, guess this is me not putting it off any longer. The first stop of many, until I finish this list. I promise you now that I will remember, by making your stories into my stories. And it starts here. Drone command: Program Alpha.”

The drone chimed in acknowledgement, tilting towards the open ocean and flying off. It stayed a few feet above the rolling waters, flirting with the white ridges of each wave, glinting like a gemstone against the deep blue of the ocean. 

After a distance, it came to a stop over the water, where the bottom of the drone began spinning with increasing speed. With a sudden motion, the base opened, and a wide spray of ashes flew out in all directions, spreading into the ocean with a grand flourish.

I gazed off towards the revolving turbine blades on the horizon. The drone hurried back, its mission accomplished, and parked gently into my outstretched hand. As it morphed back into its original shape, I closed my umbrella and hung it on my arm. I reached into my bag and retrieved another cartridge filled with ashes. Another piece of my father. I placed it gently into the open slot of the drone, which chirped brightly before accepting the next package.

I looked up one last time. “Bye Dad, see you soon,” I said as I turned to walk back to the rail station. “Meet you at the gardens. Last one there brings lunch.”