Chapter No. 50 Vision of Things to Come

A man stares out of the ornate French doors of his Malibu beach house. His sad eyes behold a peaceful scene: rolling white-capped waves, fluttering sea gulls, beautiful puffy clouds near a deep blue horizon. A golden sun warms his face; a gentle wind soothes his battered soul. He wants to forget the past, bury his mind in his work, get on with life, but he can't. The pain in his shoulder reminds him of the greater pain in his heart.

He's the man in charge, and it's his responsibility to take the heat. Both he and the Institute have come under criticism for the handling of the mysterious creatures that most people call mermaids. A few staff scientists have resigned, disgusted with his decision to allow the mermaids to escape. The remaining staff has lost heart. Morale is all but dead. How ironic. His prophesy of the Institute falling from grace has been fulfilled.

The public is saddened that they can no longer watch the creatures perform like playful dolphins, see them imitate human behavior like smart chimpanzees, listen to them sing like well trained parrots. Mermaids have become the obsession of the media. They are an icon of the modern era, a focus of the new wave--and the fringe groups that inhabit its realm.

The aftermath of Stram's attack has been devastating. The Institute and Marineland face lawsuits from injured spectators. Attendance has dropped off precipitously. Security at both institutions has come under fire. Paranoia rules the day.

Senator Jarvis had been unsuccessful in exposing the government's role in the Stram attacks. Stram has disappeared, and many of his comrades have faded into the wind. Stanton was found dead, a gun by his side, a typical fallen-from-grace warrior.

Expeditions were made to both the Galapagos and Micronesia Islands in order to rediscover the Hauptman's creatures, but, so far, all such attempts have failed. Mermaids are just as enigmatic now as they had been before the Hauptmans' discovery of them.

###

In the warm waters of the Pacific a great white hunts alone, trolling the depths for something large enough to satisfy its voracious appetite. Water flowing through its sensitive nostrils, filtering out molecules in parts per trillion, the shark hunts for blood, urine, body odor, anything to indicate that a suitable prey is out there in its territory.

A great white has few enemies. Only an orca can challenge it, but sharks avoid anything that size. There is plenty of smaller prey out there in the vast ocean, especially near shore: seals, sea otters, manatees, humans--anything is game.

Usually, sharks avoid humans, but this carnivorous species is by nature opportunistic, so even a human is vulnerable. Sharks are the most powerful hunters in the sea.

Not quite.

The object only causes indecision in the shark's primitive brain. What is it? It has the tail of a dolphin, but the top half is not dolphin. No problem. The potential prey is smaller and appears delicate, a valid meal by any standard. A quick bite will determine acceptability.

Suddenly, a sharp object penetrates the shark's skull and pierces its medulla obligata, bringing death quickly and violently.

The prey makes a meal out of the predator. That's the way it is in the sea; quite often, the predator can become the prey.

The diners communicate during the meal, re-telling the exciting events of their recent history and expressing their sorrow for the loss of their comrades. They also sing praises for a human female who had sacrificed herself to protect them. Mealtime is a time for reminiscing.

###

In a lush jungle of a remote island, in a concrete block building hid beneath a dense green canopy, a woman with long white hair pours plankton into a large aquarium. Eager four-inch tadpoles, their long tails frantically waving, their mouths rhythmically opening and closing, wait for their daily meal from a familiar, smiling face.

Totally immersed in an unfolding mystery, a bearded man kneels nearby at a small pool.

"Hey, Love! You've got to see this. One of the tadpoles is beginning to shed its pupae."

"Start the camera, dear," she shouts from the aquarium tank. "We don't want to miss anything."

She rushes over to the small pool and sits next to her husband. The creature emerging from the pupae is six inches long, has a gray tail that roughly resembles a fluke and a light skinned anterior torso with a fish-like head.

"That's interesting," Margaret says. "This is an intermediate post-embryonic form. I thought that the next stage would resemble the infant stage."

"Perhaps, this form gradually transforms to the infant stage."

Margaret stands up. "Maybe we can detect some of this form in the baby."

She walks over to a larger pool that protruded into the patio section of the house and whistles a series of birdcalls. Within seconds the water churns with activity. Two alien heads pop from the water and then quickly move to the edge of the pool near Margaret. Eric joins his wife.

"Hi Mar-ga-reet! Hi Er-ic!" the two adolescents intone with the usual clicks.

"Hi Zephaniah. Hi Raquel." The two humans greet them in perfect synchronization.

Margaret squats down and lovingly strokes the red hair of the male and then the platinum hair of the female, prompting each of them to emit a rapid series of clicks that resemble a cat's purring.

"How's my two buddies today?" Margaret asks them in a voice that exudes genuine feeling.

"We are fine, Mar-ga-reet," they sing.

Margaret tilts her head and flashes a brief smile. "Would you mind doing me a favor and get the baby."

Without answering, the male turns and quickly submerges. A few minutes later he appears holding a twenty-six-inch long mermaid by its tail. Margaret grabs the wiggling, screaming creature and places it in a specimen tray on a nearby cart. She holds its wrists together while Eric holds its tail, causing the agitated creature to wiggle and squeal all the more.

Eric laughs. "Energetic little devil isn't it."

The little devil soon calms when Margaret rubs its belly. With its agitated movements reduced to a gentle wagging of its fluke, the small mermaid is open to full examination. Margaret pulls its toothless mouth open wide, sticks her finger under its tongue, exposing it to view.

"This is a female," she tells her husband.

Her husband looks at her and then at the small mermaid, but he makes no comment, electing to simply observe.

She pulls the tongue out so that its tip is easily visible. "See how the tip is blunted. The male's tongue is sharper." She squeezes the tip to expose an opening. "This is where the male sticks the tip of its tongue."

Eric gently shakes his head. "That's wild."

She grins. "No, dear, that's biology."

Margaret places the baby on a specimen balance. "Ah. She's up to sixteen pounds. She's been eating."

"Eating what, Love?"

"I think our buddies here are breast feeding her."

Surprise quickly blooms on Eric's face. "They're old enough to lactate?"

"Yes they are. I wouldn't be surprised if they soon try to mate."

Eric rubs his beard and smiles. "I wonder what their offspring will look like. Will they have red or blond hair?"

"We'll find out, eventually."

"I'm sure we will." He walks over to the pool edge and caresses the two adolescents. "But, I don't really think there'll be much difference, except for the hair color."

"I think there'll be more than that."

"What? These two species are anatomically identical."

"No they're not." She tilts her head. "I'm surprised that you, of all people, didn't notice the major difference."

He slowly shakes his head.

She smiles with a teasing look in her eyes. "The Micronesia mermaids have larger breasts. Didn't you notice?"

Eric's facial expression passes from confusion to delight. "My God! My mind must be going. No, I hadn't noticed." He slumps into a lab stool. "How could there be two separate branches of these creatures? They don't migrate like whales and dolphins."

"There are actually three branches, dear."

"Three?"

"Yes. Artifacts found by the Micronesia expedition indicate a black-haired form. Unfortunately, there was no indication of their existence or, more importantly, where they live."

Eric bows his head for a few seconds before looking up at his wife. "You realize that we're technically violating the law, Love."

Fire flashes from Margaret's eyes. "I don't give a damn! We promised to protect these creatures and I intend to make good on that promise, no matter what."

"I concur completely. Now that we're retired we don't have to answer to anyone. No one can prevent us from operating our own research station." He bows his head. "I just hope that we can accommodate all your babies."

"I'm not worried," his wife defiantly declares. "There's plenty of prey around this island for them, and the whole island is undermined by underwater caverns. These creatures have rudimentary internal gills. They can live underwater at depths that would crush the life out of any human. Even with advanced technology, no one can locate them in those devilishly complicated caverns. All we have to do is give them a slight edge and they will survive extinction."

Eric stares at his wife with a blank expression at first but then he gives her a smile that expresses his affirmation and support.

But what irony. He and his wife are doing all that they could, breaking the law, flaunting professional ethics, forsaking friends and family, all to preserve a life form that is for all intents and purposes the most prodigious predator species on the planet. There is no doubt that they are the most dangerous creatures in the sea. But, they're so loveable. Humans just can't resist lovable pets.

Thanks for reading this long story! If you've made it all the way to here, you know that this ending is ironic. The two main characters who were responsible for discovering the creatures that some call mermaids have decided to preserve them despite the fact that they are very dangerous predators. I wrote this story to demonstrate that all life is precious, even life that we consider dangerous to humans. I also wanted to show the folly of exploiting wild animals. It's a sin against nature.