by Razi Imam
“Dear Hoang, we’re very sorry to bother you at your work,” Pham Kai said.
Hoang raised his hand, bringing it to his chest with a gentle bow. “The honor is mine, Pham Kai. Your visit is a delightful surprise. Tell me, how can I help you?”
“I think I may have caught a special fish,” Pham Kai explained, pointing to the cooler he had set at his feet. “I’ve never seen anything like it, and we were wondering if it could be of some value to you.”
Hoang nodded. “Yes, we’re always interested in exotic fish caught in our waters. Take your time, finish your tea and biscuits, and then we’ll check it out.”
After they were done, Hoang took them to a freezing-cold room outfitted with long, stainless steel tables. He explained that this was their receiving area, where marine life was sorted into bins for processing. Pham Kai opened the cooler and placed the fish on the table. Hoang’s eyes fixated on the glowing, bluish-green nodule—it was still moving, even though the fish was dead.
Pham Kai touched Hoang on the shoulder, waking him from his trance. “Both Minh and I have had the exact same experience,” he said. “We can’t stop staring at it, and we lose track of time. Do you think this is a new species?”
Hoang cleared his throat. “Yes, I think you may have caught something very special. I’ve never seen anything like this before either.” He asked if he could show the fish to his team of experts to help determine its worth, it may fetch a premium price—he just wasn’t sure how much. Minh and Pham Kai agreed.
The couple returned to the cafeteria, and for the next hour they watched people go in and out of the receiving area, all speaking in hushed tones. By three in the afternoon, Pham Kai and Minh needed to begin their journey back home. At this point, it would take them until midnight.
“I think you’ve done it, husband,” Minh said with a smile. “You may have caught a valuable fish! Why else would they be taking so long?”
Hoang soon approached, pulling out a chair and sitting down. He smiled, choosing his words he spoke. “Pham Kai, we think you have caught a new species of fish.” He paused. “Not just new to Vietnam, but perhaps to the world. There seems to be no reference or photographs of anything like your discovery anywhere. We think it should be presented to the Vietnam Maritime University for further analysis. We have a standing relationship with them. If we come across an unknown marine specimen, we sell it to them for a fixed price. With your permission, I’ll process the paperwork and provide you with the money.”
It wasn’t what the two su vang fish would have fetched, but Vietnamese dongs worth eight hundred and sixty dollars was enough to get second and third opinions from private doctors. Pham Kai and Minh turned to each other and then nodded in agreement.
An hour later, they were headed back to their boat, the money tucked away in Pham Kai’s inside kurta pocket. Pham Kai felt sad that even though they had some money now, it wasn’t enough to get Minh her full treatment. Her option now was to wait and get the national health care, which would take months. Cancer needed to be treated now—even he knew that.
***
BACK AT TONKIN Fisheries, the experts examined Pham Kai’s fish. They couldn’t stop staring at the creature as they tried hard to identify and categorize it. Hoang pulled out his cell phone and called his friend Dr. Vu Ha.
Dr. Vu Ha was a pleasant-looking man with jet-black hair highlighted by a single streak of natural gray, as if someone had taken bleach and brushed it across his head. He had a round face that worked well with his diamond-shaped body. His beaming smile lit up the room, and he was well respected in academic research circles. Vu wasn’t excited about the drive, as there was a lot of traffic, and he didn’t expect the visit would lead to a new species. But he felt that the pictures and vague description Hoang had provided were enough to warrant an in-person inspection.
After the customary security registration and several handshakes and bows, he was escorted to the receiving area. There were a few fishery employees still gathered around, speaking in whispers. Hoang asked them to move aside.
Vu gasped as he approached the table. He ascertained that he was looking at a deep-sea prehistoric specimen. He grabbed the magnifying glass and moved closer to examine the nodule. It was a hexagonal cone structure with six surfaces, and each surface was a different radiant color. The color of each surface fluctuated between darker and lighter shades of the same palette. There were also these unique geometrical patterns like staircases indented into each surface. There was also an odd slit next to the dorsal fin, though he couldn’t make out much of it.
The nodule revolved, pulsed and drifted across the body. The fish is clearly dead, therefore how is it moving? He thought. On closer inspection Vu realized that the nodule wasn’t actually moving—it would appear and disappear between the head of the fish and the dorsal fin. Biological hexagonal structures were considered to be evolved mathematical wonders. This warranted further study, so he made arrangements for the immediate transfer of the specimen to his university.
Vu spent the next few days analyzing it with his researchers. They were having animated conversations, and Vu was enjoying the process. Just when they would find a feature of the fish upon which they could create a case for its morphology, another feature would refute it. Vu and his students couldn’t stop thinking about it—it had taken over their lives.
During one such research session, the door of their lab swung open and the head of Vu’s department, Dr. Cong Cuc, walked in. Everyone stopped talking. Cong ignored the students and ordered Vu to join him in his office.
The department head glowered behind his desk. He removed his glasses, licked them with his tongue, and began to wipe them with a cheap, blue printed handkerchief. “Vu, I’ve warned you several times not to get carried away with projects that waste my department’s time and resources. What is all this talk about a fish?”
Vu shifted his weight. “Sir, I understand. But we’ve come across a unique specimen, and in my scientific opinion, it’s going to be a great discovery in the marine field.”
The department head gestured for Vu to stop talking. “Is this something that’ll help reduce the hunger of our population? Will it help our fishermen catch more fish?”
Vu shuffled his feet again. He knew where the conversation was heading. He started to explain the specimen’s importance and why it was necessary for them to continue their research.
“Stop delaying and answer my questions,” Cong snapped.
Vu shifted his gaze toward the ceiling, taking a deep breath. “For now, the answer to both questions is, I don’t know. It’s too early to tell.”
The department head furrowed his brow. “Vu, you know the mission of this university and our department. You know our strict policies against wasting government money. You and your team will see the inside of a jail cell if you don’t stop working on this stupid fish. Dammit, you should have more sense.” He turned his gaze to his computer monitor and gestured for Vu to go. Embarrassed, Vu bowed and left.
Frustrated and insulted, Vu went to his office and slammed the door. He dropped in his old office chair and stared at his computer screen. He couldn’t understand how educated people like Cong could be so ignorant and arrogant. It always bothered him when Cong would refer to their department as his department.
However, though he had to follow orders, he needed to do something about this fish. An idea started to take hold—he could write a blog post describing the specimen. It was well within his rights as a researcher.
Perhaps marine biologists from a Western institute would read it and request to pick it up for further study. His post couldn’t imply that he was reaching out to universities outside Vietnam, as that would be considered treason and theft of a national treasure. So he wrote the blog as an informational piece, stating only the facts.
As the days and weeks passed, not a single response or comment was made to the blog, adding to his disappointment. The creature was stored in the specimen refrigerator, and some da
ys, he would take it out, stare at its still-glowing nodule, and return it with great care.
***
IT HAD BEEN several weeks since Pham Kai and Minh returned from their trip to Tonkin Fisheries. Pham Kai often wondered about the fish he had caught. What was it? Why was it so mesmerizing?
They began making daily bus trips to Qui Nhon city, spending their earnings meeting with specialists and getting chest X-rays, mammograms, bone scans, and MRIs. The results were always the same. Minh was suffering from an aggressive form of cancer.
The next few weeks were difficult. Minh felt betrayed by her body. They had never had children—maybe if she’d had children, maybe if she’d breastfed a child, maybe this cancer wouldn’t have happened.
There were times during the day when, in private, she cried till her eyes went dry. She wasn’t crying for herself—she cried for Pham Kai. What would he do when she was gone? They had been married for over thirty years. Their lives, routines, decisions, habits, even their styles of speech were so intertwined. They were one unit, one person. The thought of Pham Kai being alone, living his life without her, tore at her soul. She felt a deep sense of despair and guilt that somehow she had betrayed him.
Minh started to accompany Pham Kai on his fishing trips. She wanted to spend every waking hour with him while she waited for her turn at treatment, an agonizing ten months away.
Besides, she loved working alongside Pham Kai—he was her hero. She immersed herself in his routine of casting, hauling, sorting, and going to the market. She soon became too exhausted to think about her condition.
She also started making an old wives’ tale recipe of tea. A concoction of a tablespoon of turmeric powder, a teaspoon of ghee, and two teaspoons of honey, all blended into heated coconut milk. She would sit on the edge of the boat and drink, watching Pham Kai gaze into the horizon for hours on end. One day, she asked him what was he looking for.
“A miracle,” he whispered.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Paramarines
“You were born with wings. Why prefer to crawl through life?”
~ Rumi
SEBASTIAN’S DUCATI MOTORCYCLE was made for distance. It took him through Costa Rica, Honduras, Guatemala, and Mexico before he crossed the border into Arizona, where he veered west toward San Diego. The further he got from Bocas del Toro, the better he felt. By the time he reached the Scripps Institution of Oceanography, he felt good. It was true what they said about long bike rides. The freedom on the road, the vastness of the Americas, even the bugs hitting his visor had a cathartic effect on him. The ride helped him leave the past behind him and focus on the future.
Sebastian cruised down to the Old Scripps Building, the very first marine research facility built on campus, and parked in the same spot he used for so many years. He walked the familiar, narrow corridors of Ritter Hall on his way to Cebrián’s office. The smell brought memories of his time as a student at this prestigious research institution. An antique glass cupboard still held old artifacts of past scientists, including the famous dissecting microscope of Dr. Martin Johnson from 1936.
Entering a small vestibule at the end of the hall, Sebastian approached Cebrián’s secretary, crouched in front of her computer screen with intense focus.
Hearing a shuffle in the doorway, she lifted her head to see a handsome man in a leather jacket holding a biker’s helmet and smiling. “He’s been expecting you. And wow, you’re on time!” she said, motioning him toward an open office door.
Sebastian approached the office, noting how it reflected Cebrián’s unique personality. The back wall was comprised of a large window overlooking the Pacific Ocean. In front of the window sat a sleek, modern desk with a bust of Einstein and a small statue of Gandhi holding his famous cane. To the right was a small round conference table with a whiteboard mounted on the wall, and to the left was a small cart with an espresso machine, and deep red Demitasse cups. On the walls he had pictures of Amelia Earhart, the Wright Brothers, a schematic of the starship Enterprise, and a copy of Alexander Graham Bell’s patent.
Cebrián stood at the window with his back to the door, turning as he heard Sebastian come in. “You made it!” he exclaimed. “Good to see you again. Please, come sit.”
He motioned Sebastian over to the conference table, where a towering stack of books on quantum physics were placed.
“How was your ride?” Cebrián inquired. “I’m sure it was an opportunity for you to think and reflect.”
“It was great,” Sebastian agreed. “It gave me much-needed time to recognize what’s important for me going forward.”
Cebrián’s cell phone buzzed, and he ignored it. “Sebastian, I’m so happy you took my offer to come. Often, people who have experienced what you’ve gone through tend to lose their desire for research. I was hoping you wouldn’t go down that path.”
“I came close,” Sebastian said, sighing.
“I know,” Cebrián replied. “But you’re here now.” He picked up the books on the table. “You can see I’m doing some research of my own. I’m reading these because quantum physics is the closest field to a systematic and scientific study of the unknown. It’s a subject where variability, chance, and random events are the norm.” Sebastian leaned forward, listening.
“Quantum physicists,” Cebrián continued, “have found subatomic particles that can be connected to each other when they are three thousand miles apart—meaning that when a quantum particle in San Diego turns clockwise on its axis, its partner particle in Philadelphia turns anticlockwise. Fascinating! Coffee?”
“Sure.” Sebastian said.
Cebrián got up and walked to the espresso machine as Sebastian perused some of the books, confused but intrigued. Within a few minutes, the whole room smelled like a finja farm; the aroma was intoxicating. Cebrián went through the elaborate process of first grinding and then making fresh brewed espresso for the two of them.
He picked up the red Demitasse cups and placed one in front of Sebastian before continuing. “I’m building a team of scientists I call Paramarines. They’ll be tasked with finding specimens that exhibit higher forms of evolutionary capabilities that tap into this quantum realm.” Cebrián explained, pausing to take a sip. “These include intuition, telepathy, predicting future events, being at two places at the same time, and a number of other such unexplained phenomena. Scientists have known for a long time that certain animals have the ability to predict natural catastrophes before they strike. The tsunami in Southeast Asia that killed over three hundred thousand people didn’t harm a single wild animal. Almost all of them took shelter on higher ground. And the animals that did die were the ones in captivity. There are dogs that lie next to terminal patients in a hospice facility twenty-four hours before they pass away. Pets have been known to get agitated when their owners have gotten into a car accident. We also know certain animals like dogs and cats start staring at an area of a room, where you and I don’t see anything. They not only stare, but also show signs of distress, as if they see something. There are countless such recorded incidences.”
Sebastian took a sip of coffee, considering. “So, your Paramarines will find specimens that exhibit measurable forms of such abilities?”
“That is our goal,” Cebrián answered. “We’ve partnered with the world’s leading computing and robotics university in Pittsburgh.” And they’ve helped us develop a next-generation artificial intelligence supercomputer called Poseidon. We’ve populated it with over 1.2 million scientific research papers and given it access to over four billion real-time conversations related to events, meetings, seminars, and expeditions taking place across the globe. Any mention in a tweet, post, blog commentary, or picture related to a specimen that shows unexplained phenomenon, we capture it. We then use Poseidon to serve up the potential find for our Paramarines to investigate.”
He stood up, setting his coffee on the table. “Sebastian, mankind is facing existential crises on a scale never seen before. We’ve polluted our oceans.
Our food supplies are dwindling. We have rampant malnutrition and disease. Climate change is submerging coastal cities. We are experiencing greater forms of distrust, greed, corruption, violence, racism, and lack of tolerance than ever before. Humanity as we know it is falling apart. Something has to be done to solve these issues.”
“And you think finding species that tap into the quantum realm would help us address these problems?” Sebastian asked, engrossed.
“Yes, the problems we’re now dealing with need a new way of thinking to solve them. We as humans have to evolve to operate at a higher plane, like some of these species have evolved—that’s why I see evolution as our solution. The best way to get there is to find such species and to learn to biomimic their capabilities.”
“Doctor Alveraz, this is inspiring, I’ll admit. But how do you propose a team of scientists even attempt to accomplish such a goal?”
“Please call me Cebrián and walk with me—I want to show you something,” Cebrián said.
The duo made their way toward Vaughan Hall Building 8675. Inside, Cebrián led Sebastian into an elevator. Instead of pushing any buttons, he pulled a key from his coat pocket, inserted it into the panel, and twisted. He then pressed the floor buttons in a fast, code-based sequence. The elevator began to descend, as Sebastian’s eyes grew wide. He’d been in this building countless times during his academic years, yet he’d never known there were more than three floors.
Several moments later, the doors opened onto a vast room the size of a large college lecture hall. What Sebastian saw shocked him—it was one of the most sophisticated command centers he had ever seen. The wall facing the elevator held five huge screens split into multiple panels, showing everything from maps and satellite images of water bodies and jungles to live feeds of major expeditions. A glass wall took up the entire right side of the room, and through it Sebastian could see a sophisticated marine biology lab complete with DNA sequencers, MRIs, portable X-ray machines, and mass spectrometers. The left side of the room held an open conference area with a large table. Situated throughout the space were several workstations with various transparent screens and tablets. Four individuals were spread throughout the space, two in the lab, another two at workstations. One in particular stood in front of his glass computer screen, opening files and zooming in and out of images with sweeping hand gestures.