The Unchipped

Chapter 18

Sara sank deeper into the warmth of the bath. The water was the perfect temperature, controlled by an amazing panel that released the desired temperature through the faucet and reheated it through vents. The tub could have easily held two people, its molded sides, reminiscent of a giant clamshell, were shaped to embrace the human bottom. The entire room displayed affluence, tastefully taken to the extreme.

The beautiful marble floor of Samantha's bathroom had an almost imperceptible grain that let feet, wet or not, grip without fear of slipping. The tiles on the walls were individual artworks upon themselves, each a scrimshaw-like carving in faux ivory. She could see no apparent duplication, though they were all subdued scenes of the sea, islands, dolphins, and old ships.

"Lower lights," Sara whispered as she adjusted the touch panel, and the room softened to a candle-like glow. Mary was right; Sara did love it. The peace was a godsend, wrapped in the security of fresh water eating away at the crusty saltwater film that had coated her skin. She dropped below the surface, letting the water infiltrate between the hair follicles. Silence, far more profound than when she was under the boat, enveloped her mind and offered a moment of needed nirvana. Her eyes closed, and the world disappeared. Heaven after days of hell.

Her ankle loved the bath as much as she did. The warmth and buoyancy allowed it to ignore gravity. They were all safe now, a good thing. Mary had again refused to direct the way to the bridge - orders were orders. The bath was a good compromise.

Sara rose above the water, her thoughts calmer though still without direction. Tomorrow might as well be a decade away. It was impossible to plan without some idea of where she was headed. University had been her next step, and there was no backup plan. Papa was probably imprisoned, and who knows what might happen to the others who helped or even knew her. A spy, they called her - spies had contingency plans - she had none - worst spy ever.

She wiped the water from her eyes and examined the inlaid shelf. It held a wide assortment of bathing accessories. Three types of shampoos, two conditioners, and enough body wash for the entire ship. Opening the first shampoo released the scent of lilacs in spring - as advertised. Better than smelling like dead-ocean, she thought. Clean was a direction. There was little future in it, but it was an achievable goal.

"One step forward," Sara whispered, squirting a liberal amount of shampoo into her hand. Self-care would be the new first step. Beyond that, well, it looked like the world, and debts would decide for her. A menial job, most likely, and after a decade or two, she could save up enough money to pay Caleb back for his boat. She wondered if the world was truly chaotic beyond Aragonia's borders. The ship didn't seem to be in chaos. The crew and artistic detail articulated something utterly different than what she had been taught. Perhaps the wealthy lived beyond the disorder her teachers warned about.

She guessed the purpose of the small shower head next to the tub's faucet, pulling it from its seat and extending its copper-scaled snake-like hose. A convenient gadget that gently sprayed perfect-temperature water wherever directed. In this case, washing the shampoo out of her now clean hair. Sara smiled at the luxury of it. A shower in a bath - the best of both worlds. If this was chaos, then she needed more of it. The next significant decision was which body wash to use - was she in a fruity or flowery mood? The choice would have been easier if there was an eau-de-run-for-your-life scent.

The light blue towels Mary had left on the hook had a soft richness. Very unlike the course ones she had at home, though she had always thought them soft before. The memory of home brought out the sad shadow again. Splendor had its place, but home was home, and Papa was Papa - all the family she had.

Mary had left a wrapped toothbrush along with a new tube of toothpaste. Sara probably wasn't the first visitor who showed up without toiletries. After oral care, she bound her wet hair in a towel, turban style, and donned the gorgeous silk robe hanging on the door. It was an off-white color embroidered with grayish flowers. It felt wonderful on her skin. Of course, she'd have to replace it with her sandpaper-pizza clothes once they were cleaned.