We called up the wind and sea, the crew scrambling to their sails, the young captain at his wheel, throwing his body against it, railing against the pull of the wind. His hat had blown off, and the rain pouring down dripped off the end of his small, low, ponytail that was the fashion. The wind threatened to blow off his coat, and he fought valiantly against it. His boot slipped in the wet, and in that moment the ship listed starboard, as I knocked a wave against the side of it. The crew cried and scrambled and their captain cursed God, but none of it mattered, as if it ever could. The joy of humans realizing the impermanence of their lives, and the indifference of we Endless to their troubles, never failed to please me. In their panic and their fear, they finally saw themselves as they were.