Shikk was tired of the game. Initially, when he was first selected to go on the trip, the rhythmic turning of the big sticks had obsessed him. He had been thrilled to get the chance to sit down beside the big, loud man he had by now grown used to smelling, and have a go at moving the thingies properly.

He found the game tough business. Push too hard or too fast, and you got too tired. Too slow or too sloppily, and the guards would tickle you with their sharp brushes. Shikk hated being tickled. It wasn’t long before he realized that the game had no variation – it was boring. The man next to him only stopped talking unless the guards were close, but Shikk found him boring too. The whole ship was boring!

And when he tried to get up and leave, he noticed the metal clamp thing tied onto his leg that wouldn’t let go. Just standing up had upset the big, loud man, and it wasn’t long before the guards came over and starting tickling him again. He had almost cried, but Shikk was big these days, and he wasn’t supposed to cry anymore. He had just sat down again and pouted, and for a while the loud man complained that he wasn’t doing his fair share of the game.

“I’m awake,” the loud man said, again. Of course you were awake, Shikk thought, because you weren’t sleeping. But he was happy to feel the stick suddenly lose weight, and the game became easier. That happened whenever both of them were playing at the same time. The loud man didn’t like it when he had to play by himself, and Shikk was beginning to understand.

“You’ve been awake for four days straight, man!” the loud man said. “I’ve got you covered. You can sleep.”

Shikk laughed on the inside, because he knew laughing out loud could get people mad at you. How could he keep playing the game if he was asleep? And if he stopped playing, wouldn’t he end up being tickled? But as the hours dragged on, Shikk realized as the oar was feeling lighter and lighter, the arms became heavier and heavier. He finally slipped into a turbulent, shallow sleep.