“No,” his dad said, “you’re too young, son, and piloting a farm is a man’s business. But you keep up the way you’ve been doing, and you’ll be flying a farm of your own someday. Maybe even this one.”

He toussled Jimmy’s hair and the two turned to pay attention to the crew installing the rudder and testing the heavy steel wires connecting it to the enormous tiller. Jimmy unconsciously aped his father’s posture, hooking his thumbs in the belt loops of his denim jeans, his left shoulder just a little higher as he rested most of his weight on his right foot like his father always did.

“Dad, why is it so long?”

“Farm’s a massive thing, son. Needs a big rudder to steer it. Long time ago, man called Archimedes realized you could get more force from a lever if you made it longer, so having a large tiller like that makes steering a farm a two-man job. Fact, one man could handle it in a pinch if he really threw his weight into it.”

Jimmy scowled. “Archeememedees was the naked man with the bathtub, right?”