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Songs of Thalassa

Page 14

by Brian Tissot


  Heading back in, she came up with an idea. Surfacing as the small creature popped up a few feet away, Sage’s eyes sparkled as she spoke. “I’m going to call you Nesoi.” She had remembered the name from her mythology class, and it felt right for Thalassa. “As you may know,” she said to the creature, which was turning its head trying to understand. “The Nesoi in Greek mythology were the primordial goddesses of islands. You are beautiful and look like the goddess of these islands.” Then the creature, now a Nesoi, whistled, dove underwater, and swam away.

  Sage’s daily routine included checking the channel, marking the channel height in the sand, then walking the beaches looking for anything to get her off the island. She was anxious to keep moving, but was boxed in on all sides. All she could do was wait. While she waited, she learned more about the Nesoi.

  She took delight in watching groups of Nesoi swim together. The large animals, some as long as 20 feet, made graceful sweeping arcs underwater while making their eerie musical sounds. The more she listened, the more she began to hear a pattern in the notes, parts of a longer, graceful melody. Some sounds were repeated in a way that resembled the verse of a song, or even a song itself, although she couldn’t relate their activities to a specific type of sound. It was unlike anything she had ever seen or heard and despite her reluctance to befriend these large furry creatures—she wasn’t planning on staying—she felt herself drawn to their inherent beauty.

  Watching them feed was entertaining. The adults were extremely efficient and used a sit-and-wait technique. They sat perfectly still on the bottom and grabbed a mouthful of fish as they came close. They occasionally worked in teams to chase a hapless pika school into the jaws of another. Catching a meal seemed effortless. In contrast, the younger Nesoi were inept at working together and herding the small fish-like animals and seemed to become flustered after unsuccessful attacks. Sage was astounded when a pair of larger Nesoi appeared to demonstrate how to catch fish for the younger ones, going through the motions without eating any pika.

  Every time she was in the water, the small Nesoi showed up and followed her. For fun, Sage hunted down a few pika and fed her as they swam along, with the small Nesoi happily gobbling down the treats. Over time she realized that this was the Nesoi that had saved her on the Bulge, and she felt a growing familiarity with the creature, almost like a kinship blossoming between them. But her rational scientific mind kept stepping in. No, that’s ridiculous. It’s an alien animal; they aren’t frustrated or showing affection. It’s just my anthropocentrism taking over and projecting human emotions on these alien creatures. Despite that, she felt a closeness to these animals and believed they were much smarter than they appeared. Sage was fascinated by the small one’s innate beauty and relentless curiosity and named her Maka, or “beloved one” in Hawaiian.

  Every night, Sage camped on the shore of the channel, hoping for the tide to drop. As she lay on her back, looking up at the stars, it inevitably triggered memories of home. She realized her growing affinity with the Nesoi reminded her of being in a family again. The feeling of warm comfort recalled the love in her fairy-tale-like childhood. She cried at the memory. I’d love to be with my ‘ohana, but that’s impossible. Sorry, Tutu. Surfing is my life—or was my life, if I don’t find a way off of this rock—and I’ve ridden the largest wave in the galaxy! Even you should be proud of that.

  But looking at the stars, she couldn’t stop the memories of her tutu, her father, and her ‘ohana from flooding her thoughts. As meteors streaked across the sky, she called out to each star using their Hawaiian and western names as her tutu and father had taught her: “Sirius,‘A‘ ā; Arcturus, Hōkūle‘a; Castor and Pollux, Nāmāhoe; Polaris, Hōkūpa‘a…”

  Late that night, she saw the bright star rising near the white dwarf and whispered to herself, “It may be my imagination, but that star is getting brighter. It’s more like a planet than a star. It’s as bright as Jupiter in Earth’s sky. But according to Georgia, there aren’t any other planets in the Procyon system, so what’s going on here?” She didn’t want to contemplate that it was some primordial debris, an asteroid or comet, on a collision course with the planet. Worried and feeling trapped, she made a mental note to keep an eye on the object.

  As she lay watching the night sky and thinking of home, pressure to leave the island grew on several fronts. In addition to the meteorite and tsunami danger, she felt a foreboding feeling from her amassing observations: the bare ocean down to 300 feet and now that brightening object in the sky. Something is going on that I don’t fully understand. Tomorrow I need to get to the next island no matter what!

  Chapter 16.

  Crossing

  As Sage awoke the next day, to her amazement and delight, only a small river flowed through the channel. It had a swift current, though, and jellies of various sizes zinged by in the water, causing her to cringe at the idea of encountering a larger one. She thought about her options. Despite the increasing number of meteors streaking across the sky, Sage was cautious given how little she knew about Thalassa’s ocean.

  However, she had been watching the ocean for two weeks and had made discoveries indicating Thalassa’s tides were unique. Unlike Earth, where the moon takes 30 days to go through its phases, Thalassa’s moon took 12 Earth days, so the timing of low tide shifted dramatically from day to day. Moreover, it was a small moon and created a modest tide of only a few feet. Despite watching the moon’s rapid progression in the sky, she noticed the tides were progressively dropping each day, and the channel was gradually narrowing. The timing of the tides didn’t make sense, and she couldn’t find a relationship with the phases of Lona.

  On Earth the largest tides—the highest high tides and lowest lows—all occurred during new or full moons. On Thalassa, she noticed, there was no relationship at all: the tides continued to become more extreme while the moon went through all its stages, making the tides chaotic. She observed that in the middle of a dropping tide, the ocean would reverse course, then rise for a few hours, then start dropping again. Strange, Sage thought, but she attributed it to the irregular nature of the coastline, to Lona’s orbit, or to something she didn’t fully understand. The tides were different on Thalassa, and she wished Georgia was around to answer her questions. Anyway, the important point, she reasoned, was that if the trend continued, the tide would soon be low enough to cross over to the next island. She just needed to be patient. But patience was difficult. I have to get off this island, and it won’t happen hanging with the Nesoi.

  The next day, as she watched, the tide began dropping even further, and by mid-day, the channel was the size of a small stream. It was still a fast-moving rush of water filled with jellies, but now it was easily passable with her water skills. It was time to attempt a crossing.

  To avoid the jellies, Sage had come up with an idea: wait until just after low tide when the tide reverses. In the slack time when the water starts flowing back from the ocean to the bay, there will be fewer jellies, and she could swim across.

  She waited another two hours, watching the Nesoi splashing around in the water, but avoiding the channel and the white jellies in the surf. That they knew to avoid the white creatures made Sage super cautious. Still, it was time to move on. But even after the low tide had occurred on the ocean side, water still flowed out from the bay. Sage, increasingly chomping at the bit, attributed it to a time lag between the two bodies of water.

  An hour later she was proven correct as the water flow slackened between waves then reversed direction. She immediately ran down to the channel edge, jumped in, and began swimming across, adeptly dodging the few jellies in the water. In less than a minute she reached the north side of the stream. Her feet climbed the steep muddy slope of the underwater channel, and she stood in knee-deep water. She raised her arms in triumph and shouted to the Nesoi, “Yes! That was so easy. What the hell was I worried about?”

  She was dancing in excitement, kicking at th
e mud and spinning around, when she turned toward the ocean to see a small wall of water, barely a foot high, rushing out of the surf toward her. It was more like a surge than a wave, but it had the entire force of the ocean behind it. She pivoted back and headed toward shore, but in her haste to get onto solid ground, her foot slid off the edge of the channel, and she slipped back into the surging water. Before she had a chance to regain her footing the wall of water hit her, and she was propelled into the inland sea and amid a large field of giant jellies.

  “Oh shit!” she yelled as she moved toward a group of the large white blobs. Taking a deep breath, she dove below the large creatures to avoid touching them as the current pushed her into the massive field of animals filling the bay. Looking up, she saw the surface was wall-to-wall jellies, like puffy sheets of white cotton covering any escape. Small jellies drifted aimlessly underwater, and her arms bumped into several as she swam below them.

  Her lungs started to burn, and her arms grew too numb to reach her breather in her backpack. She began frantically looking for a path to the surface. Finding none, she pushed up underneath one of the larger jellies to break through. To her surprise, she wasn’t stung but instead felt a slimy sheet and a mild, numbing sensation growing on her hands. Regardless, it was keeping her from reaching the surface, and she needed air, so she began thrashing around trying to break through the white body of the creature, which stretched and began to encase her like a giant wet towel. As she rubbed up against it, the numbing sensation grew and began to envelope her upper body. Shit! I’m not going to make it.

  Weak and unable to move her arms, she felt soft fur then a strong push propelled her through the water. She turned to see a large Nesoi holding her, then everything went black as her body was overcome with numbness.

  Chapter 17.

  Journey Within

  The dream was vivid and more turbulent. Lost in the dark, she moved blindly through empty caves. She felt the walls of large caverns stretching seemingly forever in all directions. The walls were naked and bare, devoid of anything, as was she. She was blindly searching for something. After an eternity of wandering, she emerged onto the surface of a dark, stormy sea. Massive waves surrounded her as the wind howled in fury, lightning rent the sky, and thunder rumbled on the horizon. She seethed with hatred at the feeling of helplessness, bobbing on the chaotic sea, being pummeled by giant waves, a threatening ocean, and angry heavens. Defiant, she screamed at the boundless power of the ocean. “Kill me or let me go!” Deathly afraid of the limitless power of the sea, she held her worst fears inside, unseen but felt in her soul. It was a deep fear she was afraid to face: the terror defining the uncertain life before her.

  Even as she yelled at the mighty sea, a wave of epic proportions rose out of the ocean’s depths and cascaded over her, spinning her into the deep, dark ocean with tremendous force. Helpless, she was pushed below the surface, deeper than ever before. It was cold, and she could feel the pressure grow as she descended. And when it felt like she would be crushed and frozen, she saw a light below. A small bright beckoning light. Despite excruciating pain and growing fear, this time she didn’t turn away but swam toward it as it got brighter, eventually becoming a blinding white. This time she held her gaze on the light. For the first time, she tried to understand it, the source of her greatest fear. Who’s there? Then she awoke.

  It was just before sunrise, and she was looking up at the bright unknown planet as it disappeared behind dark, angry clouds converging above her. Her upper body felt numb, but she could move her feet and her legs. Her arms and head were frozen, and she couldn’t turn her head. How did I get here? What happened?

  The last thing she remembered was being trapped beneath a large jelly, unable to breathe, then a Nesoi touched her. With great difficulty, she sat up and swiveled her body toward a large Nesoi lying next to her. Despite obvious signs of injuries she looked serene, peaceful, and was breathing slowly. Next to her sat Maka and two other Nesoi, one with a now-healed gash on her head, all surrounding the larger injured animal that had saved her.

  Sage gestured to the animal with her hands. “Mahalo nui loa. Thank you very much for saving me. I hope you’re OK.” At the sound of Sage’s voice, the big Nesoi, which she realized was the mother of Maka and perhaps the other ones, raised her head and moved her tail and hind limbs, as if showing her that she had good movement.

  Although thankful for being rescued, she couldn’t shake the terror she felt surrounded by the jellies and cried in anger and frustration at her ordeal. She felt helpless stranded on the beach, her body frozen by the venom of the white creatures. What am I supposed to do now, Sage thought, overwhelmed. As she started sobbing, it began to rain, the first time since she had arrived on Thalassa, and the Nesoi helped the mother back into the water, and they swam away. For hours she just lay there, her despair deepening as the rain merged with her tears, and the thunder echoed her screams of frustration as she tried to stand up.

  But as the storm worsened, she decided she must seek shelter. Through flashes of lightning, she saw a pile of rocks and with great effort dragged herself over and discovered a cave. She crawled into it and collapsed; exhausted from the numbness in her muscles and her growing despair. I’m never going to get home now! She curled up in the cold dark cave, her heart aching at her defeat.

  As she slipped in and out of consciousness, her dream brought memories of her tutu as she basked in the light of their lives together. She could feel Tutu’s strong spirit with her, close and pulsing with warmth, as she reminisced on the lessons of her youth: the rituals, the gods, the endless memorizing the family ‘aumākua. Over and over. Oh, how she hated it at the time. All her friends were playing, and she was stuck with a bitter old lady endlessly talking about the past. But yet, from an early age she felt a strong connection to Tutu. And reciting the ‘aumākua had saved her in the surf, at least so she thought, and it was hard to forget her stories.

  She remembered the pains her tutu had experienced growing up in Puna, including the joys of ‘ohana and all the hardships she endured. As a young woman, she lived among the blue tarps in the pouring rain for years after they lost their house fighting challenges to her family’s land. Her family was destitute, landless, and survived by a thread. And despite her family’s disbelief in the old ways, Kalena hung on to their culture, and the teachings of her grandmother, who died young. But Kalena knew it was the backbone of their strength, and in the end, through her knowledge of the family’s genealogy, they were able to get their land back. The message to Sage was clear: Honor your ancestors.

  So Tutu was determined to pass on what she knew; it was her duty to give her cultural expertise to the next generation, but she had failed, and she regretted it bitterly. She tried with her oldest daughter, Sage’s mother, but Nani wasn’t interested. Nani lived Hawaiian, yes, but not in the spirit and knowledge that Tutu wanted. Nani didn’t want to wallow in the pain of the past, but instead, she wanted to live in the future, to be happy and enjoy the newfound sovereignty Hawaiians had finally achieved after so many centuries.

  The same was true of Tutu’s younger daughter, Kēhau, Nani’s baby sister. But part of Tutu’s teachings rubbed off on Kēhau, as she dedicated her life to protecting the ‘āina. Then Sage was born, a hiapo—a new hope. Her last chance to make a difference and preserve the old ways. Then she had the vision and when Sage was born everything fell into place. Her granddaughter would change the world. So, the lessons began in earnest. You must learn, her tutu constantly reminded her. You are the last hope!

  But her tutu taught her too much, too soon. As much as Sage wanted to hear she was special, it was overwhelming for a child. “I don’t want to save the world, just surf with my friends.” But she learned the lessons nevertheless—Tutu made certain of that. When Sage’s father died, Tutu lost hope again as Sage retreated from her family, distanced herself far from her ‘ohana. But she held on, knowing one day she would return. She had to
.

  Sage remembered their last hour together, the reminder of who she was and what she would do. So in some ways, she came to Thalassa to calm the storm of the ocean and to make the connection with the Koholā. To Sage, how that would occur and what it meant was confusing as she thought back over their life together. Although she recalled the sternness and bitterness, she mostly felt Tutu’s love, her passion for action, and her deep belief in the value of the old knowledge and legends. Despite everyone’s rejection of the old ways, Sage knew there was value in her lessons and she felt her tutu’s spirit near her. I must live in her ancient spirit and remember the old ways. There must be truth. She believed!

  She shifted her mind to her tutu’s death, reliving her own sense of loss and regret for the missed years. Although the memory was painful, her death had haunted her thoughts during her time in deep space and she awoke many nights shaking uncontrollably at tutu’s power and the messages from that last day. First, the ceremony at the cliff, Halina chanting as her sister’s frail body was lowered into the sea. How could she hold such power? Then a rainbow. An hō’ailona, her spirit is rising! Thunder on Mauna Loa. A rebirth! Finally, Procyon on the horizon, rising like a phoenix for her father, beckoning her to follow Tutu’s vision by going on the mission. Through the roaring thunder on Thalassa, she heard her tutu speaking to her in the cave. You are meant to be here, my child. You are on the path—this is your life’s journey, and any life worth living is not easy. You must fight for it!

 

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