It looked so small, now.

When she first saw the Foam Strider, she had been comparing it to the other ships, and there had been plenty that were smaller and sleeker. And for two weeks, it had been the world. Or, well, not the world but the part of the world with people in it. It had been civilization.

And now it was just a boat. Or a ship. But it certainly didn’t seem like a place where a whole bunch of people could live comfortably. Even though they had.

And it had only been like 8 hours. All she’d done was take two cab rides, fall asleep on a lumpy mattress, and grab coffee and a wrap from Starbucks. It shouldn’t look different at all, but she barely recognized it.

Ray, in contrast, was exactly the same. She hadn’t reflected on that before, but it was undeniable — Ray managed to look the same on the water as he did when she’d met him at the Cheesecake factory. It was probably because he was equally uncomfortable in each situation — she wondered what he looked like at home. Did he just scowl at the TV by himself?

She must have been smiling at that thought, since, when he turned and looked at her, he asked, “What’s so funny?”

She shook her head. “Nothing really. How was your night?”

“Oh, uh, fine. Slept well, considering. How about you? Ready for the day’s adventures?”

“Yeah. Where are we headed?”

“All over, but our first appointment is here.”

“Here?”

“Yeah. Did you think I wanted to meet here just because I don’t know other places?”

“No comment. So, what, there’s a merchant who does house calls? Or boat calls? Why do we rate that kind of treatment?”

“How do you think it would go for us to try to put a couple unicorn corpses in the back of an Uber?”

Adelaide smiled at the image. “It wouldn’t be great for my rating, you’re right. I thought we were selling those to Emma’s boss. Chris?”

“Yeah, Chris. And maybe. But there’s more to do with these things than eat them. And Marty’s a friend.”

Adelaide heard a deep, quiet voice from behind her. “Don’t say that, Ray. You’ll ruin my reputation before I’ve even introduced myself.”

Adelaide turned. Marty was only an inch or so taller than Adelaide and thin. He was dressed in a fitted black sweater and tight blue jeans. Adelaide went to shake his hand, saying, “No need to worry — I don’t take anything he says seriously. I’m Adelaide.”

Marty’s handshake was brief but very firm. “Good to meet you. I understand from Ray you found some striking subjects.”

Ray led them onto the Strider and started walking them towards the freezer in which the unicorns had been stored. “Yeah, you’ll like them. We froze them given the travel time, but we pulled one out for your review.”

It was good Ray spelled that out, because it would otherwise have been really weird to see a thawing corpse on the table where Adelaide had eaten her last few meals. Marty approached it without breaking stride.

“Mm, you mentioned it was a unicorn derivative. Always a nice market. Interesting presentation, though, and definitely not a typical alicorn. I doubt there’s much value from the alicorn alone. People don’t insist on the spiral the way they used to, but this wouldn’t even look like it came off anything equine if you pulled it out.”

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“Does that matter for horns?” Ray asked. “I thought the horn market was for miracle cures and sex powders.” Adelaide had heard about that market — some people somehow still hung to the belief that Triangle animals could have magical properties. It was hard for Adelaide to sympathize with that sort of superstition, but it had essentially ended the poaching of elephants and rhinos, so she supposed it was for the best.

“Matters hugely for that stuff. People who buy random powders know they’re going to get some sort of Triangle rat bone dust if they’re lucky. They need to see the alicorn themselves before it's powdered or boiled or whatever. And the sort of romantic who believes these stories cares a lot about how it all looks.”

Adelaide winced at the image of someone snorting bone dust. Marty must have misunderstood her expression, because he continued, “Oh, don’t worry, there’s still some real value here. The overall presentation is solid and should taxidermy well.”

“Who buys them taxidermied?”

“The word is actually 'taxidermized.' And it’s a mixed market.. You’d think the market would be saturated, but there’s a big world if you sail away from Bermuda the normal way, and a lot of people are still excited by exotic and mythical-evoking subjects. It’s easy to feel like the sort of maximalist aesthetic that the Triangle has inspired is fading, but that’s less true than one might guess in much of the world. And unicorns have particular appeal to certain business-people. I don’t know if you’re familiar with the venture capital world, but they use ‘unicorn’ for a billion-dollar business. It’s now become something of an expected gag gift to get founders a unicorn subject.

“But do you know one of the biggest markets for these kinds of subjects?”

Adelaide shook her head.

“Right here in Bermuda, to tourists who left without finding anything good. You’d be amazed how many people want fake trophies.”

“That’s odd,” Adelaide said. “I’d have thought people would have too much — well, maybe not integrity, but something. Pride, I guess.”

“One of the Triangle’s little alterations of the social fabric,” Marty responded. “There used to be a stigma for traditional hunting, and I think it still applies. But the market apparently feels differently about Triangle trophies. I suppose the unreality of the subject, but I’m hardly a psychologist. Ray, you say you have a dozen?”

“That’s right.”

“Wonderful. My men will be here shortly to haul them to my facility. I’ll call to give you a final offer once I’ve examined each subject. Did you have anything else for me to look at?”

Ray pulled out one of the preserved dawnbats. “Only these.”

Marty handled it briefly. “Ah, a pretty fish, but I’ll leave that with you.” He looked at Adelaide as he continued. “No one wants to think about the Triangle as leading to just a bunch of water.”

Adelaide thought of the frothing sea from which the dawn bats emerged.

***

It was odd watching Marty’s men carry them off. Adelaide knew that they were just doing their job, but she still sort of expected them to at least notice that they were carrying unicorns out of a freezer. But they were as bored as if they had been hauling boxes of frozen pizzas. And then they were gone, and she and Ray were in front of a nearly-empty freezer.

Ray broke the silence. “Marty does his diligence on everything he buys, but he’s fair. You don’t have to worry about him carrying them off without paying.”

“Oh, no, I wasn’t. If you vouch for him, I’m satisfied. And he seemed knowledgeable. I was just wondering if I’ll every see one of those again.”

“Were you expecting to?”

“No, I hadn’t been — well, I didn’t think that far. But it’s just odd to see them vanish from our world so quickly.”

“That’s the business, Professor. The evidence is what we sell. Someone else gets the proof, and we have to content ourselves with the memories. And the money. Mostly the money.”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.” But then Adelaide had an idea.

She grabbed one of the frozen dawnbats and ran to catch up with one of the men Marty had sent.

“Excuse me,” she said, “but can you bring this to Marty?”

The man looked at it. “A fish? Marty didn’t mention a fish.”

“I know. This is for me — ask him to quote me a price for one taxidermy job.” The man seemed a little confused, but didn’t object.

Adelaide smiled as she walked back towards Ray. It was a waste of money, she knew, but she would keep a little memory for herself, of the first new life she ever met.