Hartmut, by guest blogger Jane

Hartmut was aptly named, for she had the heart of a dog. Not that she had ever seen a real dog, but if you could believe the time travelers, it’s the kind of heart that she supposedly had. Meaning that she loved earnestly, loyally, even viciously, and once she cast her devotion upon the recipient, be it man or creature, she didn’t let up easy.

“Like being hit by a freight train,” her mother often said. But Hartmut had never seen a freight train either, and so the dead metaphors had little effect on her.

Sometimes she wished she could be more like Marylou. Marylou didn’t pine for true romances that never came, didn’t stalk the young men at the mammalry college every time she got a chance to visit the outposts, or require months to unwind herself from the pain she felt right in her heart when they didn’t love her in return, and Marylou certainly didn’t stay up nights crying for their father who had never come back. Marylou simply took action. Whether it was a door that need fixing, a fish that needed catching, or a heart that needed untangling, Marylou simply acted. And that was exactly what Hartmut intended to do now.

Except she hadn’t exactly intended to do it right that second. It was only a thought she was having as she waded into the swirling water. A momentary revelation as she knelt in the Vertigo to rinse out her apron that had been stained with dirt and berries. Something caught her eye, and she slipped, and found herself being washed down the river of time. Now, sitting on a bank she knew not where, Hartmut reflected that this was the recurring story of her life.

She didn’t know where (or when) she was, but where/whenever it was, it was cold. She shivered, wringing out her long blonde braids. She was probably only swept a couple of weeks up the current, she told herself. But even as she thought this, she tasted the dirty Vertigo in her mouth, realizing how much of it she had swallowed, and she knew that it was more lies she was telling herself. A few weeks up wouldn’t have put her in the middle of winter, and she didn’t recognize anything around her. The island looked dead and empty. Besides the dry shrubbery that crowded the rocky shore, she could see nothing but flat sandbars and briney lagoons in every direction. Could she have been caught in the Tallahassee Loop current? If so, she could be just about anywhere.

“Oh, what am I going to do???” she wailed, looking helplessly about her for a sign. Marylou would have had flint for a fire, and for that matter, wouldn’t have been lost in the first place, with her circlet and map.

“And why does she get to have the circlet and map?” she reflected, walking round in little circles to warm up. “What did I ever get?”

She fell to her knees and sobbed into her wet apron. Presently, however, she decided that ready or not, the time for action had indeed come. She searched the gritty shoreline and eventually found a bit of shale stone and a dark flat bit of leaf. Using the shale, she sketched the following message into the leaf:

Washed up the Vertigo! Send help! Wherever this is, it’s cold. Hartmut

Miraculously, she located a glass bottle with a stopper lodged between two boulders, and after rinsing it out, she inserted her message and flung it into the river, not knowing what good it might ever do.

Exhausted, wet and shivering, she crawled beneath the same boulder on a bit of cold but dry sand, and presently cried herself to sleep. She slept the sound sleep of a broken-hearted innocent, her body forming a question mark in the sand. When, hours later, the moon was high in the sky, it was the plaintiff sweet howl of foxes that awoke her.

Slowly, Hartmut peeked her face out from beneath the boulder’s overhang and saw twelve red foxes sitting in a circle on the sand. She thought she was dreaming. Foxes had been extinct since the flood. And yet all turned their pointy faces towards her, and one rose up onto his hind legs.

“Flock,” he said in a gravelly yet sweet voice. “Flock hinder non frightenum.”

And she knew without needing a translator that the wondrous, beautiful foxes, who were real, so very real in the moonlight, had recognized her as one of their own.

Washup City

"Whomever I may have been to you in the past, George, I am Lady Angela now." Truly her robe of blue and white did bestow upon George a sense of her new rank, one of both power and privilege. Marylou noted that Lady Angela's robe was actually a men's bathrobe, but conceded that Lady Angela did have a royal air about her.
"My Lady," he said, bowing deeply on one knee, hat in hand. Lady Angela breathed a sigh of relief and looked to each of her guests in turn, taking in Sally under the bushes. She turned and spoke to Ungah in an unfamiliar language. He in turn approached Sally slowly and began communicating with her through a series of grunts and hand gestures.
"Ungah says this dog is but a few hours from giving birth. Praise be to the mammal lords." Everyone looked to Sally with excitement, and Medicine Dan clapped his hands and did a little jig.
"My companions and I bring barley nougats and pressed mulberry wine in greeting. Let us sit around the fire and partake, and you will tell me who you are, and what you are doing here in Washup." The others obliged happily and all snacked merrily and told of their exhilarating exodus from the Port of Pouteau. Lady Angela took keen interest in the story, having heard of the famed poetry reading at Leroy's. It was legend. Lady Angela had the advantage of being both from the past and the future. She knew exactly who these people were, and knew better than they what their mission in Washup would be. She knew of Marylou's father, indeed, she kept him safely in her own compound, at the center of Washup City.
The Fur People sat with the humans and watched quietly. They were keen observers of character. They noticed how Herald and Alberto stared at them with reverence, curiosity, and friendliness. Medicine Dan however, would not look directly at the Fur People. He busied himself rubbing tobacco on his gums, and drinking heavily from the mulberry wine jugs. This was not his first encounter with the Fur People, and he did not seem to trust them. Marylou and George only had eyes for Lady Angela. Her every gesture engrossed them. She spoke softly and made meaningful eye contact with her startlingly blue eyes.
It was decided that Bashwalup! would stay with Medicine Dan, Herald, and Alberto in order to care for Sally. She was in no condition to go anywhere. Bashwalup! could instruct the men on finding edible roots, the location of the best berry patches, and how to construct a grass hut. They would be fine on this tiny island for the time being, allowing Sally and her soon-to-be born pups a leisurely and safe place to nest. Alberto and Herald immediately began learning Bashwalup!'s language.
"Gargoo means water!" shouted Herald at Medicine Dan, who grunted and turned back to stroking Sally's belly. He didn't want to go anywhere in this new world. All that mattered to him was Sally and the pups.
Lady Angela, Ungah!, George Conley, and Marylou bid farewell to the others and started off through the trees. On the far side of the island they came upon Lady Angela's boat, a golden canoe of sorts, which Ungah! skillfully maneuvered through the waterways, wending their way closer to Washup City.

Lady Angela

Years ago, Lady Angela was Angela Henson, younger sister of Leroy Henson. The Henson family were notorious for thievery and violence. They regularly robbed from the Post-Diluvial Services wagons, pilfering cheese for their cheese fries, and anything else that could be resold at Leroy's Foos Ball and Poolhall. Angela detested these dastardly deeds; she was cut from a different clothe. Since her early teen years, Angela received celestial directives. They came to her as visions, out on the grass plains. Strange humans wearing golden circlets around their brows, with large animal companions, pleaded with her to go into the future, where her leadership was greatly needed. She did not know what to make of these visions, at first, but as they progressed she came to learn of her place in time. Her place, the visitors told her, was in the future. She had a mission, which could only be realized with the help of the Fur People. She did not share these visions with her family, they could not understand. They only one who could help her, she figured, must be George Conley. He was known throughout Pouteau county as a leading time traveler, with knowledge of other realities. As a poet, he might not find Angela's visions too strange or unbelievable. He himself had a bond with the unseen world. Unfortunately, he was also her brother Leroy's sworn enemy. They were the same age, and had an ongoing rivalry. George, being more good-looking and talented, really irked Leroy.
George Conley didn't have an overriding sense of right and wrong. He generally did what suited him, but his heart was true and any transgressions against others were mostly unintentional. Call him an opportunist, an artist, a casual heart-breaker. Only one thing raised his moral ire, and that was Leroy Henson. George delighted in foiling Leroy's schemes. He let the air out of Leroy's grasoline powered jalopy, dyed all of Leroy's clothing pink with some dye he'd acquired before the Industrial Collapse, and spread rumors all up and down the Vertigo of Leroy's unnatural love of women's underclothing and homemade lipstick. Leroy, in retaliation, attacked George upon sight, using whatever was at hand to cause him bodily harm.

Washup

The crew of the Clarabelle woke to the sound of their boat knocking gently against tree roots. Groggy and googly eyed all at once, they jumped around the boat like monkeys in a cage, with shouts of Land! and Ahoy! and Jumpin' Jehosephat, if that ain't a blue bird! Sally poked her nose out from beneath the bench and sniffed the air. It smelled like flowers and dirt.
Hilly green mounds surrounded them, with waterways winding throughout. Birds twirted from branches heavy with nuts and fruit. Truly, heaven could not have appeared to them more beautiful, or more full of super-natural grace.
Immediately they began securing the boat to the nearest thick root, and all climbed out, with Sally handed over carefully and placed on firm ground. She clutched the earth gratefully, and slunk beneath a blackberry bush, lowering her heavy belly with a moan. All others set about gathering fruit and nuts, while Medicine Dan retrieved his trusted fishing pole from the bottom of the boat and commenced fishing in the plentiful waters.
All had worked up a great appetite, what with the poetry reading and ensuing riot, fleeing suddenly from Leroy and his panty-hose brick weapon, enduring great winds and waves, the swift time current, and the attack of the Herliwigs- it was all just too much. What they needed, more than anything, was food and comfort, and stillness.
By late morning, all were well fed and resting around a comfortable fire. Water-logged boots and wet overalls hung from tree branches. Sally had her own fish brought to her by Medicine Dan; he was especially keen on her health and well-being. She ate four cooked fish, bones and all, and then fell into a deep sleep. All around them, the green mounds clicked with life. Herald and Alberto, die-hard mammalists, scampered off to explore. A new world!
Marylou waded to the other side of the small island and washed her hair with Medicine Dan's By-Your-Leave Hair and Body Wash, afterwards securing her golden circlet tightly round her brow and dressing in her one change of clothing, soft brown ninja lounge wear, made by her sister Troybilt. How she missed them! Her heart ached with the thought of her sisters and mother. What must they all think? How long had she been gone? Felt like a few days to her. As long as she came back to them someday, arriving a few days after her original departure date, every thing would be fine. What she didn't know was that her sister Hartgut had already been taken by the river, and remained persona no finda to her family and all those who heard of her great disappearance into the slathering and spitting grey river, one day after Marylou's departure from home.
Upon her return from bathing, Marylou brought forth the map. Some speculation circulated between the two co-captains, Medicine Dan and Marylou, as to how far they'd gone, but George Conley stepped in and set things straight. He jabbed his finger in between Dan and Marylou's shoulders and pointed at a series of islands and promontories, far down at the bottom of the river map.
"This here is Washup. I know it, I've been here before." A furrow of worry appeared between his eyes. He stepped back and surveyed the hills and water that surrounded them. "You get too far down the river, you end up in Washup. All kinds of people and things get washed up here, hence the name. Yep, all kinds of people." He neglected to mention that he and a companion had years ago found themselves on Washup's shores, and had subsequently radically altered the fate of Vertigo River.
Medicine Dan eyeballed the map. Washup was considerably farther down the river than he'd ever been. Part of the Lower Vertigo River, Washup looked to be about a hundred or more years into the future, he speculated aloud.
Marylou wondered if her father could have been washed this far down the river. If so, no wonder he'd yet to return. When finding oneself one hundred years into the future, how long would it take one to get back home, she pondered. He could have been waylaid by any number of circumstances.
In fact, Hans Sneebum had been captured by time river pirates, rescued by cat people, and made to serve a distant ruler of the Washup swamps, all of which led him to be the prisoner of Lady Angela, (formerly Angela Henson).
The sun slit through the trees at a warm and lazy angle. The variety of birdcalls were suddenly interrupted by a distant hooting, and an answering hoot from far away. It sounded like, "Hooo-dee?" answered by "Hoo-de-hoo-de-hooo!"
Medicine Dan and George Conley had both whipped their heads up high the second they first heard it, Marylou noted. Their eyes followed the interaction, scanning rapidly through dense foliage all around them. It unnerved the recent arrivals, and they walked quickly back to the fire, adding sticks, though the day still glowed brightly.
Herald whispered, "You heard that?" The calls echoed around the hills and off the water, slowly making their way closer to them, closing in on two sides. Everyone stood stock still and opened their eyes wide, as if that might help them hear better.
"Sounds like Fur People!" George whispered urgently. "Just move real slow and do what they want. Fur People are strong, and don't like chitchat." The others stood quietly with eyes downcast, like eminent prisoners of war. Presently, two furry creatures and a human woman stepped from between two trees and approached them.
"I am Lady Angela, and this is Unguh! and Bashwalup! Welcome to Washup. We are so pleased to have visitors from the past." she said this with a slight uplifting gesture of her left hand, perhaps a local greeting of some kind. Both she and the fur creatures wore vests with a most curious insignia.
George Conley looked up slowly from underneath the brim of his railroad hat.
He said, "I fear you do not know me, Angela, when I come", the last line from his latest poem.
Angela had heard that poem about her ever since George had dropped her off in the future.To see George in person again, all these years later, and to hear him say those words to her covered Angela in goosebumps. She stepped back with a look of painful pleasure on her face. The others looked back and forth between the two, their jaws agape. Did George Conley have a sketchy and incredible past even in the future?

Down the river

Marylou had no intention of going into the future, none of them did. Not far into the future. A few weeks or months, sure. Marylou, Medicine Dan, and George did that all the time, in their own way. Only ones who weren't accustomed to time travel of any length sat in the back of the boat, Herald and Alberto. They were land men. As for Sally, who knows.
That night, just as they approached the island, the Clarabelle was caught up in a swift time current and shuttled rapidly down the river, into an uncertain future.
"I plum lost it, I lost control!" cried Medicine Dan. The force of the time current was simply too strong and the crew found themselves resigned to hold tight. The stars reflecting in the black water winked on and off. Everything shone black and silver in the moonlight.
"Ole Vertigo's got us and we're going somewhere fast, in a slow sort of way. Nothing to do about it." George Conley advised. He'd done this before, been washed all the way down to 2324, and he didn't much like to talk about it. Gone a whole year, though to him it felt more like a century. He had a momento from that time, something he kept in his front pocket. Only Leroy had ever seen it directly and George wouldn't talk about that either. "Suffice to say, me and Leroy don't mix," is all he'd say.
"Herliwigs. Dag blast you, Herald. I hope to heck none of the rest of you's been dreaming. Marylou?" In fact, Marylou had dreamt something most unusual, earlier on in this interminable night. She told the others reluctantly. In her dream, one ancient tribe of people had summoned up the spirit of their enemy- a dark god. He materialized into a man, and upon his arrival, Marylou's tribe honored him by presenting Marylou as his bride. The next day, the powerful man/god would battle her tribe. Though he was the enemy, Marylou found herself falling in love with this man, who seemed not very different from the men of her tribe. She gave him all her love, and in the morning she watched him ride into battle greatly outnumbered. He fought bravely, cutting one man clean in two, and died a noble death. She mourned his demise.
Marylou told her dream to the boat occupants and they listened closely. The men could see the battle in their mind's eye. Each imagined himself as the dark god. In their minds they weighed the fortune of having all of a woman's love against the tribulations of battle, and being on the wrong side of a battle. A quiet fell over the boat, and everyone dozed until dawn.

Nighttime Interlude,by guest blogger Jane

Harold Walken awoke with a yell stuck in his throat. He had been having a nightmare about making a deal with a mischievous spirit of the forest and sky. It was nighttime in his dream, and he was under a full sky of moving lights and constellations, much like the sky he was gazing up at right now. In the dream, he was in a thick woods, but at the present moment he was afloat in Medicine Dan’s boat, surrounded by his new friends in this sudden twist of fate. Harold felt that most of life hinged on just such moments and often said so. He felt like saying so now but all the occupants of the boat were fast asleep.

.

He peered at them in the thin light of the moon. The girl, gangly and capable-looking, with a golden circlet on her brow that glinted like the dark water, slept seated with her arms crossed snugly across her chest. Alberto was next to her; he had also fallen asleep sitting down, but had tipped over and was now half lying and half sitting in an L shape, his head knocking gently against the side of the boat. The Book of Knowledge lay spine open between them. Then there was George Conley flat on his back down at the end of the boat, using an old coiled rope as a pillow. Sally the dog had disappeared beneath the brown blanket under the wooden bench beneath the sleepers.

Only Medicine Dan remained awake. He stood with his back to the party, one spotted hand on the time steerer, swaying back and forth with the movement of the boat.

Harold didn’t know how long he’d fallen asleep for. First there’d been the storm, he recalled to himself, which he reckoned lasted a good hour, but it was hard to tell on the river. Might’ve been a week in River Time. Then they’d all had some grasoline, and George had recited his poem again, this time with some additional hand gestures and what-not, and then the last thing Harold remembered was a lot of hullabaloo between Marylou and Medicine Dan about which side of the island to land on. They had taken over as co-captains, since Marylou had both the circlet and the map.

“Hard stuff, ain’ it” grumbled Medicine Dan, turning his head sideways at Harold. He gestured at the empty grasoline bottles in a heap.

“Nah, I was havin’ a dream,” said Harold. “Nightmare.” He rubbed his chin and cracked his neck.

“Something about making a deal with some kind of spirit er ‘nother. Spirit of the forest and sky, as it were.”

It was coming back to him now. He made a deal, he told Dan, and all the children became a constellation and had to circle the sky for a year, pulled along by the spirit like mules on a rope while he stood below and watched from the forest floor.

Medicine Dan whipped his head around at Harold, staring at him in pure alarm.

“That weren’t no dream!” he barked, startling Marylou out of her sleep.

“You,” he pointed, digging his lip snuff out of his pocket. “Bring yer map. Where are we now?”

He looked up from the map Marylou handed him, eyed Harold again.

“What is it?” Marylou asked, hugging her arms yet tightly around herself in the chill air.

Medicine Dan was silent for a moment as he studied the wrinkled map. Finally he spoke.

“Who are ye?” he uttered ominously, advancing towards the alarmed Harold. “What have ye done to us? Herliigs mean anything to ye? Sold us out to the sky spirit, did ye? Herlipigs!!”

With this he rushed at Harold’s neck with open hands, ready to strangle him or throw him into the Vertigo, it appeared to George Conley, who awoke at that very moment and rushed to try to help Harold.

The scuffling and cursing and yelping and screams of “stop! Don’t upset Sally!” that ensued woke Alberto, who could make no more sense of the scene than the participants who had been awake and witnessed the whole thing. Sally was moaning under the bench.

When finally the group had untangled each other and were restraining or being restrained, Marylou turned to Medicine Dan.

“What were you trying to do? Kill us all?” she demanded.

“Tweren’t me tryin’ to kill us,” he replied. “It’s the herliwigs. I’ve heard of ‘em, sure. But I never did navigate this part of the river before. From now on, everyone stays awake! And let’s just hope nobody else here was havin’ any dreams just now!”

The group sat in confused silence for a moment. Then Alberto cleared his throat with a little a-hem, and as one and all turned to look at him, he indicated the Book of Knowledge in his lap with a nod of his chin, and began to read.

Herliwig: (pronounced Hurleewig), also known as Herlea, is one of two air spirits that inhabit a particular river in the Western Hemisphere known as Vertigo. The Herliwig has traditionally been associated with dreams and nightmares. Traditionally when travelers fall asleep and dream while traversing certain passages of the Vertigo, the dreams or nightmares are granted by the Herliwig spirits. In classical art, the Herliwig is depicted as a thin tall woman with human legs but fish fins for arms .

No one moved.

“All right then,” Medicine Dan untwisted himself from George Conley’s grip. “Marylou, you double check that map and hope to tarnation I’m wrong on this. And as for the rest of yez, let’s have it. What were ye dreamin’ just now?”

Away

Marylou raced down to the pier, unsure of what had just happened. There was good natured chaos all around. People were shouting "What a bust-up!" and "Angela!" She felt a rising sense of exaltation. What was it about George Conley? His poetry unsettled her. It is so easy to weave a hook into a brain, she thought to herself. Is that what he had done to her? She spotted Medicine Dan, selling something from off his boat to a rag-tag crowd.
"Medicine Dan's Grass Spirits!" he called out in a theatrical voice. "Cures what ails you. One hundred percent pure grasoline, for vehicle and body. Rub it on your head, get a full head of hair. Soak your feet, no more bunions! Runs most combustion engines, good to drink too! It's Medicine Dan's Grass Spirits, come and get it!"
Marylou sidled on up to Medicine Dan and saw that he had a crate of bottles, of various colors and sizes. She looked at the label; what a beautiful picture! Marylou felt that this trip to Pouteau had really opened her up to a whole new world of personal expression. She helped Medicine Dan take Mexi-dollars and some trade for his bottles of spirit. After the crowd dispersed, there still remained two men, one holding a dog. They approached Marylou and Medicine Dan casually.
"We're all out for now, boys," Dan said.
"I'm Alberto and this here is Herald. And Sally, our dog." They stood carefully in the sunlight, waiting for the next move.
"May I pet her?" Marylou asked. "I've never touched a real dog before." Sally allowed herself to be petted, closing her brown eyes. "I've got a cat." She didn't mention that he was a talking cat. That was her secret. The men watched Marylou with the dog, eyeing her golden circlet. Her dark curls sprang wildly all around her head, the effect being quite angelic.
"Yeah, she's about due, 'bout to have pups."
"That right?" Medicine Dan was suddenly all ears, and he hustled on over to the dog and felt of her belly. "Where you boys staying?" Dan asked.
"No place yet." They appraised Dan's boat in sidelong glances. Just then, George Conley approached in a hurry.
"Boat for hire?" he called out, hopping on aboard. Behind him in the distance could be seen Leroy, swinging his pantyhose brick around his head like lasso.
"Dern blast you, Conley! I told your Daddy! Get back here!" Leroy spat and swaggered drunkenly toward the boat. He wasn't taking much care aiming his homemade weapon. The others looked at each other and clambered onto the boat.
"All aboard, East Side Express." Medicine Dan called out, and with that he started up the engine and they motored slowly away from the pier just in time. The two men settled into the back of the boat with Sally resting comfortably on an old brown blanket. George Conley sat and calmly began cleaning his fingernails with a knife. "Have a seat, little lady," he said to Marylou. She'd been standing dumbfounded by this recent turn of events.
"I left my boat back there!" she said, looking back at the rapidly diminishing shoreline. She sat down and felt in her pockets. "At least I still have my map." She took it out and smoothed it over her lap.
"What was all that back there, George Conley?" asked Medicine Dan.
"Well, I'm a Baptist so I couldn't say, " George averted. His teeth seemed to glisten even in the shade of his railroad hat. He winked at Marylou, who looked back down at her map. She straightened her back and pursed her lips, trying to seem both uninterested and engaging.
"My boot, you are." Medicine Dan grunted. The river pulled at the boat, wishing to carry it far into the future. Dan held fast to wheel, making slight adjustments to the anti-time device. The weather was turning nasty. Wind blew hard down the Vertigo, that was a fact. Getting across was no cakewalk, but Medicine Dan held strong. Heavy grey clouds unrolled from the southwest and the boat tossed its occupants into each other. They gripped the sides of the boat. Sally moaned.
"What's that map you got there, little lady?" George asked, looking over Marylou's shoulder.
She glared at him and said, "My name is Marylou." Herald and Alberto followed this exchange with great interest. "This is a map of the Vertigo River, passed down the von Fixin de Hoolie clan since before the flood. See here's where we are," the others leaned in to look, " and here's the far side of the river, a place I've never been. And see this island here? How about we go there, Medicine Dan? It might be a good place for Sally to have her pups. See, it's just up the river about two weeks land time, maybe a few hours Vertigo time. Can we try to find it?"
After some passing around of the map, it was decided among the passengers that they would try to find the island. All settled in comfortably, passing around the last bottle of Medicine Dan' s Grass Spirits and enjoying the ride.

Vertigo Time, Tuesday edition

A Missing Persons Report was filed at the Office of River Inquiries on Monday evening by one Eloise von Fixin de Hoolie of Vertigo Dock 2, Western Side. Hartmut von Fixin de Hoolie disappeared on the afternoon of Sunday May 9, 2214, while attempting to send a bottle upstream. Mrs. E. von Fixin de Hoolie also filed a Missing Persons Report on her husband Hans Sneebum on February 2, 2210. Hans Sneebum has not currently been recovered.

Vertigo Time, Monday edition

Upper Vertigo River, 10 May 2214, Real Vertigo Time

At least five people required volunteer emergency medical assistance on Sunday evening after a stampede ensued following a poetry reading at Leroy’s Foosball and Pool Hall in the Upper Vertigo Area, zone 5.

Several French-speaking witnesses, who asked to not be identified, described the incident as seen from a river boat parked at Sequoyah 3 nearby. Although no translators could be located, the French party re-enacted the bedlam in detailed pantomime.

“Vive la galopede,” one witness noted.

Requiring eleven sutures was the presenter, George Conley. It is speculated that the reason for the stampede involved the appearance of proprietor/owner of Leroy’s, Leroy Henson, who had previously registered his legal intentions to commit bodily harm upon any descendent of Rose Conley who entered his establishment for the next eight years.