A lump entered Trimling’s throat as he took in the New World. He swallowed repeatedly. The lump grew larger. What delusion of grandeur possessed him to sign up for this crazy adventure? “I’m no explorer,” he thought. “I’m a tinkerer, an inventor. The laboratory is my home, not the jungle!”
“For love or money. That’s why people do crazy things.” He closed his eyes and the memory of Marenal’s face steeled him. He remembered their parting. She’d begged him not to go, pleaded that they only needed love. He knew better. He’d seen the effects of poverty on marriage, and who wouldn’t want the best for their beloved. He only needed one invention, one formula, one truly remarkable thing. Then he could return home, set up a shop, wed Marenal, and live out the remainder of his days in luxury and ease.
He opened his eyes. Surely a man could make a fortune in this land. Walking into First Landing the lump remained in his throat, but at least his feet were working. “I only need one thing, one truly remarkable thing. For love.”