The SS Far Country

The SS Far Country was leaving port—few realized it would be her final voyage.

For generations, she had been a reliable vessel—the only vessel—for many of her loyal passengers. But the cheering crowds missed the signs: she was aging poorly, her hull groaning, and she had begun to list subtly to starboard.

Below deck, Ephraim wandered the corridors and discovered a disturbing reality. Leaks—numerous and unaddressed—sprouted between rusted pipes and failing bulkheads. Above him, laughter and music masked the danger. His gut twisted with dread: he had boarded a floating coffin, destined for a dark, watery tomb.

He scrambled up the stairs to the main deck and shouted a warning—but his voice was swallowed by the roar of foghorns announcing their departure. Was it already too late? Had his fate been sealed—along with thousands of others unaware their journey would end in oblivion?

Desperate, Ephraim rushed to the lifeboats—there were none. No vests. No safety measures. It was as if the builders never imagined this ship could sink. She was touted as invincible, upheld by her own legend. And now, inching from the harbor, the SS Far Country slipped from the Harbor Master's control and into the cold, bony hands of her prideful captain. Her course was set. There would be no turning back.

Frantically, Ephraim moved from family to family, pleading with passengers to heed the danger. But none would listen. They were drunk on dreams of exotic destinations, secure futures, and first-class indulgence. There was no room on deck for a doomsayer—or a prophet whose warnings disrupted their cruise toward fantasy.

The Message: One day, it will be time to leave the far country.