“Those are waves. They crash on the edge of land. For fun, people ride them, and that’s called surfing.” Mikki waited a moment as Rachel pulled up an image of a small human riding a pointed slat across the surface of the water. “Yes, like that.”
Rachel was able to program the machine to have images change in and out. From water the color of the brightest blue to almost black. Wild and tempestuous, calm and serene. Then these waves, some two or three times as tall as the humans on boards, attempting to remain standing.
“Insanity,” I murmured, now understanding. I sensed her happiness at the images, the longing, the appreciation. It was beautiful but so foreign to me. Yet it made me understand my mate, a place deep inside her.
Mikki laughed. She was pleased.
“Are there any images of you?
