Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 68293 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68293 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
He didn’t find any, but he did find a French press for three dollars that he bought before going to find Gus and Wes in the barn.
“Daddy, Daddy, look!”
Gus ran toward him, her green Boulder Farmer’s Market tote bulging.
She was holding a small aquarium with one pane of glass missing and her smile was radiant.
“Cool,” he said, hoping it was the right response.
“Yeah, Wes says he has a piece of glass that will fit, and we can pox it.”
“Epoxy,” Adam murmured.
“And then I can fill it with whatever I want,” she concluded triumphantly.
“Sounds great.” The thing looked cheap enough, and he was always glad for Gus to have projects. “Let me just find the person to pay for it.”
“Wes already gave me money and I bought it. And this stuff.”
She opened her bag to reveal... Adam couldn’t really tell what. A jumble of bits and pieces that no doubt made sense to his daughter. He’d just go through it later and make sure nothing was sharp.
“Well that was really generous of him. Did you say thank you?”
“Yes!”
Gus looked offended. Adam held up his hand and she gave him a high five.
“Where is Wes?”
Her eyes lit once more, and she pulled him to the barn entrance.
Wes was in the process of unearthing some kind of very rusty piece of equipment.
“Do you know what that is?” Adam asked.
Gus nodded sagely, ever delighted to be in the know.
“A trough.”
“Like...for animal feed?”
“Wes said it’s for algae,” she explained graciously. Paused. Then said, “What’s algae?”
With each passing year—no, month—Gus’ questions challenged him more and more. Revealed all the things he didn’t know. It was disturbing how often she asked him something that he’d lived his whole life not questioning, only to realize he wasn’t sure enough of it to explain it to his kid.
“Algae’s...um...a little plant that lives in the water? I think?”
Gus nodded. “We can google it.”
Adam’s heart swelled. This was what he always told her when he wasn’t sure. Then they looked it up together. Some of his favorite moments with Gus were standing in the middle of wherever they were—the farmer’s market, the drug store, a park—huddled over his phone, satisfying her curiosity and his desire to give her accurate information.
It had irked Mason. She’s three, he’d say. She doesn’t need to know the genus and species. Just tell her it’s a damn turtle. Or, She’s five. You can tell her the sun revolves around the earth for all she’ll care or remember.
He hadn’t meant it cruelly. He’d thought it was burdensome for Gus and a waste of time for Adam. He never understood that Adam was devoted to delivering the world to Gus in the most accurate way he could imagine. He’d never understood a lot of things about Adam.
But Adam was devoted to it. Because it was the right thing to do.
And because his own parents had given to him a world so warped by their own prejudices, beliefs, and convictions that he had spent a decade untangling it.
He would spend as long as it took googling every single goddamned thing in the world if it meant he never did that to Gus.
Wes made a triumphant noise, and the trough was free. When he looked up and saw Adam standing there, Wes smiled at him. A smile so automatic and sweet and happy at Adam’s presence that it took Adam’s breath away.
“What’d you find?”
Wes ran a palm over his shaved head the way he sometimes did when he explained things. It thrilled Adam that he knew that.
“Bioluminescence occurs naturally in microorganisms like dinoflagellates. I’ve been working with bacteria and methane gas, as you know.”
Adam nodded, remembering the glowing green bottles.
“But I’ve been curious about the viability of individuals farming their own bioluminescent dinoflagellates. Pyrocystis fusiformis, probably.”
Adam had understood only a few of the words that had just been spoken.
“You mean, um, you’re gonna see if people can grow the bioluminescent algae themselves to, like, light their houses and stuff?”
“Oh, no,” Wes said, smiling. “Algae are far too temporary a measure for replacing light sources. They only remain viable for a few weeks and then they need to be replaced or divided. This would just be an experiment for me. Just for fun.”
“Sure, fun,” Adam echoed. “Er, what is algae, precisely?”
“Photosynthetic, mainly aquatic eukaryotic organisms ranging from microscopic single-celled forms to multicellular forms one hundred feet or more long. They lack the true roots, stems, and leaves that other plants have, as well as nonreproductive cells in their reproductive structures. But there is dissent about the exact definition, because the word describes such a large and diverse group.”
Adam blinked.
“And in layman’s terms that would mean...?”
Wes cocked his head. “Oh. They’re organisms that live in the water and can be as tiny as one cell or as big as kelp and seaweed.”
“Nailed it,” Adam congratulated himself. “Uh, is that gonna fit in the car?”