The Cord That Came Too Short

Yoon ran the river ferry at Long Bend. The ferry was a flat wooden boat on a thick rope. The rope ran from one bank to the other. To cross, Yoon pulled the rope with both hands. Hand over hand, forty times a day.

Her arms were strong. Her back was not.

One morning she sat on the dock and rubbed her shoulders. Nobody else was there. The river was calm and brown.

"I want this rope to pull itself," she said.

"I can help," said a voice.

A woman stood on the path behind her. She had a toolbox in one hand. Over her shoulder hung a huge yellow roll of cord. Her name was Livia, and she fixed lights for cafés.

"I'm going to the café on the far bank," she said. "I fix their lights. But I heard you. I have an idea."

"I have a bad back," said Yoon. "I don't need ideas."

"You need this." Livia opened her toolbox. Inside lay a small, heavy machine with a wheel. "It's a winch. It pulls rope. You put it on the boat, and it does the work."

"What power does it use?"

"Electric." Livia patted the yellow coil. "This is my longest cord. It goes to the socket in your ticket hut. It's made for outdoor work. And it has a safety switch that cuts the power."

Yoon looked at the machine. She looked at the cord. For a long time she said nothing. Then she smiled for the first time that week.

"Show me," she said.

It took an hour. Livia fixed the winch to the front of the boat. She wound the rope around its wheel. She tied empty plastic bottles along the cord, so it floated. At last she pushed one end into the hut socket. The other end went to the winch.

By then, three cyclists and a man with two goats waited. They paid for their tickets and climbed on board. Livia came too, with her toolbox.

"Ready?" said Livia.

"Ready," said Yoon.

Livia pressed a green button. The winch hummed. The wheel turned, and the rope began to slide through it. Slowly and smoothly, the ferry left the dock.

Yoon did not touch the rope. She folded her arms. She felt like a queen.

"Look at that," said one cyclist. "Nobody pulls the rope."

"The boat drives itself," said the man with the goats. One goat made a rude noise.

The ferry slid over the water. The cord floated behind it like a long yellow snake. Yoon sat on the bench and ate an apple. It was the best crossing of her life.

Near the far bank, the ferry slowed. It slowed some more. Then it stopped, and the winch gave a sad little hum.

Behind them, the cord was tight. It rose out of the water and hung straight in the air. All the bottles shook on it.

"What happened?" said Yoon.

Livia looked back at the hut. It was very small and very far away. Then she looked at the cord.

"It's too short," she said.

"How short?"

"It's sixty meters long."

"And the river?"

Livia looked at the water. "A little more than that."

"How much more?"

"About twenty meters."

"Twenty meters!" said Yoon.

"The map said the river was narrow here," said Livia.

Then the safety switch clicked. The winch went quiet. Far away, the plug fell out of the socket.

For a moment nothing happened. Then a wind came down the river. The rope slid freely through the wheel. The ferry began to drift. It did not go forward. It went back, slowly, like a sleepy cow going home.

"The boat goes back," said a cyclist.

"We paid for the far bank!" said another.

"The wish worked," said Livia. "The ferry moved by itself. It just moved the wrong way."

Yoon looked at her. Livia did not say any more.

The ferry bumped softly against the dock. Livia jumped off and ran to the hut. She pushed the plug back in. She ran back and jumped on. She pressed the green button. The ferry crossed sixty meters, stopped and drifted home again.

They did it a second time. They did it a third time. Each time the cyclists grew quieter. Each time the goats grew louder.

"I must sell these goats before noon," said the man. "It's eleven now."

Livia wiped her face. "I have a second cord in my van," she said. "At home."

"How far is your home?" asked Yoon.

"Four hours."

Nobody spoke. The river moved quietly past the boat. Somewhere a bird laughed.

Yoon stood up. She pulled the plug out of the winch. She rolled the cord into a yellow circle. She unwound the rope from the wheel. Then she looked at her passengers.

"Good news," she said. "Today the ferry is free for everyone who pulls."

The cyclists looked at each other. One of them smiled. The man with the goats took off his jacket.

Yoon held the rope out to Livia. "It was your idea," she said.

Livia sighed. She put down her toolbox. She took the rope in both hands and began to pull.