Jurassic Waters

by E. Coulombe

  Though they had never crossed paths before, Andrew and Kerri became so engrossed in the discussion that it was somewhat embarrassing when silence fell over the line and they remembered they were complete strangers.

  He was glad he'd made the call. He decided to step out onto a limb. “You know, Kerri, if you're right—if the bacteria in your experiment were directed to change their own DNA to avoid starving…do you think that could happen at a higher level as well?”

  Kerri replied slowly, “You're moving out of my territory a bit, but please go on.”

  “Will, Darwin said that evolution was not an orchestrated evolutionary event, but a random one! Well, in your experiment, you proved that the bacteria mutated not randomly, but in a directed manner, in direct response to their environment, and I wonder if that gives us a clue about why the fossil record hasn’t proven Darwin right, doesn't contain many of ‘Darwin’s hopeful monsters’, like three-footed fish, and six legged canines that we expected to find if mutations were random. That instead of the insane, illogical life forms like the ones sitting at the bar in Star Wars, we always have a predictable progression from fin to foot – just the opposite of random! “

  “You are isolated, aren't you?” she said. “You're not even aware of the controversy surrounding my results. Are you actually arguing on my side? Oh, I'm definitely glad you called. This is the best conversation I've had in months.”

  He knew he should stop. He'd already said far more than he had intended. There were several gaping holes in his argument. He knew that without proof he was just talking fantasy.

  He needed proof.

  I wouldn't have said this much to a man, he thought, not even if he'd discovered directed mutations in mammals! It's because she's a woman…Even more surprised, he heard himself speak again.

  “The entire scientific establishment tries to call itself a community, but they're a damn ESTABLISHment. They all believe that random mutation feeds natural selection!”

  Silence.

  “That's the most amazing thing of all,” he said quietly, more to himself than to Kerri.

  After a long pause she finally responded. “Yes, and so what about my work with bacteria?”

  “Yes” he answered softly, amazed that she was still on the line.

  “How do you see this in relation to my work?” she prodded.

  “The bacteria in your experiment mutated to correct for their inability to process lactose because they were starving in a dish full of lactose!”

  “Are you implying, Andrew, that all genetic mutations are directed? Not just bacteria in a Petri dish?”

  “Well, not all.” He started to backtrack, but was tired of side-stepping difficult questions. “Okay. Yes. All mutations are directed. And my question is, do you agree?” He winced, half expecting to hear the phone slammed into the cradle, knowing she would surely think him a crackpot.

  “Let me get this straight. Are you thinking about some type of intelligent design directing these mutations?”

  “If by intelligent design you mean some type of cause and effect, whereby the environment, or the genes, or…something not yet understood…designs the evolution of the next organism? If that's what you mean, yes, I guess that's what I'm talking about.”

  “Well, that's not exactly it…”

  “Regardless of terminology, would you agree with my idea?”

  “It's an interesting possibility,” she answered slowly, “but we need more data. In time we may have proof.”

  “I'm afraid we've run out of time,” he muttered under his breath.

  “What?”

  Andrew didn’t respond. A long moment of quiet hung suspended between them. Then Kerri surprised Andrew again as she spoke of her own pet theories. They were equally radical and unsupported. It felt good to talk with someone. It had been a while since he'd had a like mind with which to collaborate. He was especially interested when she mentioned her most recent work with Hox genes.

  “You know, this will sound crazy,” he interrupted, “but were you thinking of coming to Hawaii any time soon?” Without waiting for an answer, he quickly added. “Probably not. But could you be persuaded?”

  “When?”

  “Right away.”

  “Where?

  “Nakoa.”

  He could sense her weighing the pros and cons in the same thorough way she had set up her research. “My wife and I would be glad to have you stay with us,” he said, swallowing hard, fearful of losing her. Losing her?

  “Well, I really could use a break right now, from my work, from my boss, from all this……controversy.” She hesitated. He sensed she wanted to say more. “Since we're total strangers, 6,000 miles apart,” she went on, “let's be blunt -- wasn't that your word? What exactly are you working on now? Why do you want me out there?”

  “Someone to collaborate with? Corroborate maybe? Either one or both would do.”

  “I'll consider it,” she said.

  “That's it?” he asked.

  “That's it?” she quickly returned.

  “Yes,” he said just before hanging up.

  Chapter Four

  E ala e'e

  E ala e'e

  We the voices behind the face,

  Of the Hawaiian nation, the Hawaiian race.

  Rise for justice,

  The day has come,

  For all our people to stand as one.

  E ala e'e

  E ala e'e

  We the warriors want to live,

  On what the land and sea can give.

  Defend the birthright to be free,

  Give our children liberty.

  E ala e'e

  E ala e'e

  Old man Kane sat down on the rounded rocks at the reef's inner edge, put his radio down beside him, and listened to Brudda Iz. All his life, Kane had lived on this island and fished these reefs. He liked the way Iz sang. 'Ka pana pu'u wai o Hawai'i nei. “The Heartbeat of Hawaii,” he was called. Iz sang from his heart and it made Kane want to stand up and follow.

  Kane loved this land, Nakoa. His father and the father before him, his son Moki, and now his grandson, Lono, they all loved this land, too. Same way Brudda Iz loved it with his song.

  Brudda Iz was dead now, over 600 pounds when he died. Kane was a small man, or at least relatively small. He swung his nearly bald head around and looked at the setting sunlight reflecting off Kahili mountain.

  The land. The aina. The Colliers' aina.

  The worst thing the haole—the white people—brought to Hawaii was land ownership, he thought. It changed everything. But at least here, on Nakoa, even though the haoles own it, people still live like Hawaiians. Still get up to go fish if they want fish, turn the soil in taro patch, work til hot, or til fish don’t bite or the sun too hard, then go to visit, sit under shade tree and talk story. Wait for night to make and share food with family and friends. But over there, on the other islands, they no even live like Hawaiians anymore.

  Kane shook his head and listened to the music.

  “Almost dusk,” he said aloud. “Jus' about time for those fish to come in and get some food. Jus' about time for me to go in an get dat fish.”

  He stood and walked to the waters edge, still playing Brudda Iz in his mind. He sang aloud like the waves sang their song, over and over. Chanting.

  Havai'i

  Havai'i

  Born are the people, thinkin they are free

  born are the people, free from poverty

  findin there's a chain, one they couldn't see

  that binds them.

  Havai'i

  A drumbeat sounded across the water.

  Must be practicing for the luau, he said to himself. The steady rhythm carried across the bay. Guess the folks won't be eatin' on my fish tonight; he chuckled, envisioning the lavish spread at the feast. He could faintly hear the strong, deep resonance of the men chanting, one calling out, and another responding in an ancient rhythm that affected him deeply.

  He knew he
'd miss the luau, but he'd had no luck all day and rather than go back empty-handed, he'd decided to wait for the low tide, when he could walk a long way out to the reef edge and throw his net into the deeper water, where the bigger fish, and even the sea turtles, could come in and feed on the limu-covered rocks.

  He stood in warm water up to his knees and threw the net out across the rippling surface, let it settle for a moment and then slowly pulled it in. A small mullet was tangled inside. Too small. He set it free and stepped around a large rock to throw the net again, but a sharp prick stabbed his toe.

  “Damn,” he said out loud, “what that!” He was wearing felt-bottomed tabis and walked softly so the sharp vanna wouldn't poke through, but still, something had stabbed him. He saw a small trickle of blood swirl beneath the surface, near an unfamiliar form.

  “What the heck is that thing?” He reached down with his bare hand but thought better of it and found a loose rock on the sea floor, which he used to lift the creature out of the water.

  It had sharp spines like a sea urchin, or vanna, but it was red and long. The common vanna was black and round. And on this the spines seemed to be on top and bottom,

  “Which way is up for you?” Kane laughed, “and what in the heck are you anyway?” He examined the creature thoroughly; very rarely did he discover a new find.

  As the sun dropped into the ocean a green light shot up from the horizon. Ah, the flash, a good sign, the fisherman thought as he placed the thing gently back into the water. The slow, rhythmic beating of the drum behind him, the steady break of the wave in front, a creature he'd never found before -- this would be an unusual night for the net.

  Chapter Five

  Andrew was startled awake by the slam of the wooden screen door, and short, staccato noises coming from the dock. How long had he been sleeping in that chair, he wondered. He heard children's voices; the pitch increased. What is it? For a moment he was concerned, until he remembered the barge was due to arrive. Sensing a presence, he peered through his eyelashes and could just barely see a shadow moving steadily towards him across the lawn of rescued zoysia grass; grass that had, until Emma arrived, been a patchwork of creeping weeds. His thoughts worked to avoid the apprehension of a specter that kept coming. Kerri was behind Moki—arriving already--he just knew it.

  He had wanted her to come, but now, he wondered whatever had possessed him. His mind spun. No, Moki. Don’t guide her here, now. Stay away. Don't disturb my newfound peace. He flashed on Emma’s raised eyebrows just hours earlier, on the sharp-edged words they had exchanged before coming to Nakoa, where he finally had found refuge; where he and Emma had come together again. Science be damned, he mumbled, work isn't everything. What was I thinking?

  But the big Hawaiian continued walking towards him. His deliberate stride, born from an ancestry of valley crossings, his large Hawaiian hands hanging loosely at his side-- he kept coming.

  Andrew loved that man and those big Hawaiian hands. Moki was the foreman’s son and he, and his younger brother Grant, had grown up together, roaming the island, wandering through untouched valleys and had declared it as their own. “Squatter's rights!” they had yelled from the fern-covered mountain peaks, laughing, knowing that no outsiders had yet explored the remote areas which they felt it their right to claim.

  For years Moki had slept on the thick lauhala mat beside Andrew’s bed, and Andrew remembered waking the boy in the early morning light and running down to the coast to surf, collect sunrise shells, and the highly prized glass balls lost from Japanese fishing vessels. They’d stored their treasures in their favorite old Banyan tree with its solidified aerial roots, where they had made an impenetrable tree fort to which only they had secret access.

  My first sanctuary, Andrew thought.

  Then hot and sticky from the pines, the three of them would run down to the river and jump in the cool water below Kupu Falls. Once, Moki had forgotten to let go of the swinging rope and he’d swung back to the cliff, crashed through the trees and Andrew could clearly see his large, dark face panicked, sliding down the rope and sprawling on a ledge above the pool. They were all stunned, until they realized he was ok, and then they’d laughed til it hurt, and Grant climbed up to help Moki get off the cliff. That was fun. That was a good memory for Andrew, once, a time long ago.

  But now other memories, like formless shadows, pushed forward from the back of his mind. He didn't want to return to the lab. What had he been thinking, inviting her?

  But she's there, behind you, isn't she? Kerri, my new…what? Colleague? Prodigy? Protégé?

  It's not like before, I'm better now… we're better now. I'm relaxed, Emma's happy. I don't need to finish the work. He felt an impulse to stand, to place himself between Kerri and his wife, who was approaching from the house, but he couldn't move, rooted to his father’s chair. The trade winds gusted to a high-pitched howl in the palms above. Moki smacked his cap back onto his head.

  Chapter Six

  Kane waded in deeper. This time, his net felt heavier when he pulled it in. Was it just the tide tugging on it, he wondered? No--the wave changed direction and came towards him, and still he strained against the weight. No, this not be the tide, he realized, this be something big. He got in close enough to see a large silvery ulua, a jack almost the length of his arm, struggling to get free. “Whoa,” he said aloud, “You way bigger than my usual fish …even bigger than my bucket.” Trying not to tear his net, Kane half floated, half carried the netted fish to shore. Taking care to keep the deeply forked tail from poking through the netting, he released the ulua into a tidal pool not much bigger than the fish.

  Turning to go back out, he hesitated. Soon it will be dark, he thought. Not so smart to be so far out on the reef… could be hard to get back in if the moon gets caught behind a cloud. But, two fish that size would make Nani very happy. No matter how late. He chuckled. Where there is one large ulua, there’ll be another. He shook his head and laughed aloud. “Okay, maybe not make Nani happy, but make me very happy for sure.”

  He heard the drums quicken across the water, and the sharp clacking sound made by the wooden sticks that signaled the start of the Tahitian-style dancing. He could easily imagine the swishing of the young ladies' leaf-covered hips as they jiggled and swayed to the beat. Now he was for sure missing out, but still, he threw the net once more into his favorite spot, the place he'd safely fished for many years.

  He let the net drift with the outgoing wash. Holding tight with his left hand, he fed out with his right and then waited a moment, his wiry frame silhouetted on the reef's edge. All trace of sunlight was gone now as he reached out into the twilight, gathering the net into his practiced fingers, unconsciously moving with the steady rhythm of the drum. He pulled slowly, up and over. Maybe better to give up now, he thought, already missed the luau. Maybe it’s too dark to stay out here. He began to feel apprehensive.

  He yanked on the net to pull it in, but it stopped short. The net stopped? Stuck on the reef? He tugged again and felt resistance. No, something was pulling. He braced himself on the reef. Another big one-- this one even bigger!

  At risk of tearing the net, he pulled even harder. Leaning back, using the combined strength of his arms and legs he tugged with all his strength. He felt his muscles weaken and his feet begin to shift.

  Shit! Let go, he told himself, this one too big. But he'd bundled most of the net, almost had it in, and thought just one last pull…

  Suddenly the tension gave way and he lost his balance, falling backward onto the jagged rocks. He tore his hand on a spiny urchin, cursed, regained his footing, and felt quickly around in the water for his drifting net.

  A massive shadow just beneath the surface swam free of the net and circled around him. It came closer. Only sharks would be so bold, would approach like that. In a moment, he realized that sharks couldn’t swim in such shallow water, but still his heart pounded as he headed quickly back to shore.

  “My net,” he said aloud. He had worked hard to m
ake that net, and now he would have to make a new one because of what, a shadow in the water? He turned back and took a step towards the floating net. He studied the water's surface and didn’t see the dark presence at the net's edge. Reaching down into the warm water his hand brushed against something soft, like a jellyfish.

  A jellyfish? This what I afraid of? He breathed deeply, relaxed, and began to gather up the net. Something soft rubbed against his leg. This guy could have long stinger, he thought. He wraps his stinger around my bare legs, whew wee, I be covered in ko'olau leaves for long time. But even that is worth the cost of new net.

  He pulled in one last time, waiting to feel the sting. “Wait a minute,” he said aloud, “jellyfish float, they not swim.” Panic rose in his chest again as he realized the creature was actually swimming around his legs! He turned towards shore just as a large wetness wrapped around his calf. But it did not sting. That's odd, he thought, that thing is wrapping its body around me!

  In a split second his entire lower leg was enveloped in a warm blubbery mass. “What the fu… !” He tried to kick his leg free, but the thing wouldn't give. He took two steps towards shore, but suddenly there was another one, on his other leg.

  And then he did feel the sting.

  A pain shot up his leg as the stinger wrapped around his calf. He panicked and kicked his leg to get it off. Immediately he fell backwards into the water and felt a jelly mass slip behind his elbow just seconds before a new pain shot up his arm. He screamed as loud as he could, but he knew there was no one to hear him shout. Get it together, old man, he told himself.

  He stood up carefully. Ignoring the pain, he lifted his foot to step towards shore. But his left foot wouldn't follow. He pulled and pulled but the sucker thing had somehow pinned his leg to the reef.

  “Oh shit,” he said out loud. “Oh hell. This not good at all.”