Dave The Penguin

by Nick Sambrook

  It was a very, very long way back, and down. The frozen lake reminded him of one his father had shown him when he was a young chick, but one that had melted in the sun in the long summer days.

  He had learnt to skim stones on it and throw rocks into its clear mirrored surface which made ripples. He had also written messages on the stones to sort of say something.

  Dave had written ‘Penguins’ on his, but then he had been very young.

  It reminded him of some lyrics in a Genesis song from the 1970’s – “Ripples never come back” - but that wasn’t true - you just had to wait a while and look carefully, like using radar or synchronistic sonar, and see what was going on collectively. Other animals did it, penguins had just forgotten how, but then you only needed to see these things out of necessity, natural survival, evolution.

  If you were a penguin in the middle of nowhere, with nothing attacking you, you didn’t need to see these things, or care what it meant, they became irrelevant.

  He remembered the final thing his Dad had said to him; “If you are going to throw a rock in son, make it a big one.” Which was good advice, as long as you didn’t cause some tsunami and drown yourself. He thought about it for a while.

  It was one of those important moments.

  He had come up the mountain, but really he knew there would be nobody else to see up here, he knew there would be nobody to talk to, nobody higher thing, no god, no collective something. However that wasn’t the reason he had come; he had made the climb for himself.

  There was no point falling into the trap of looking for something higher, an escape, a way up and out far away, ascending to ‘somewhere else’ - which to Dave always seemed a concept that was suspicious - and ignoring basic children’s maths, not to mention being irresponsible and elitist.

  Just running away from your problems, into an ever expanding getaway virtual realm-scape of the collective penguin imagination wouldn’t help. What he was interested in was right here, in one way or another, besides he liked it here, it had potential, it just needed a bit of sorting out really, a bit of a kick up the backside, or a poke with a sharp stick.

  He placed his laptop carefully on the ground in front of him, and he flipped it over shiny side down.

  The underside was exposed, and the battery compartment underneath was empty. He did however know that that was the case, since he had handed the battery back to the surprised shop assistant when he had bought it.

  He had also handed back the packing material, instructions, and receipt. After all, he liked to be as eco-friendly as possible with these things.

  His real reason for having one of these was for a different sort of surfing, one that outsmarted the collective penguin hive mind control structure thing , with an unexpected move in the game.

  Dave then put on his knowing smile, stood up straight, and gave a quick Happy Feet dance.

  He put one foot carefully onto the back of the laptop, and slid the device back and forward, testing its feel and glide on the ice. He then took up his surfing stance with his other foot conveniently fitting into the slot where the battery should have been.

  Dave had no flip-out drink holders on his machine, Oh No, he had no need for stabilisers and marketing supports.

  It was a bloke thing, he was a rebel without a course, and a penguin who knew too much, and was proving a point, explaining something IT needed to learn.

  He hadn’t come up here to show IT anything, he knew there was nothing physical up here, he knew everything, he just wanted to be, to show, to do.

  He chose to ignore IT, knowing what it was, which of course ‘IT’ couldn’t stand. He was now taking control away from it, and making a statement, an ‘in the moment’ thing, trying to get it to see that he would only help it on his terms, and by taking the initiative.

  He did not want any more ‘enlightenment’, any more knowledge, any pseudo promises or pseudo power. He was looking after his own self for the moment, and in doing so, everyone else’s.

  He was on strike.

  Besides he didn’t actually ‘like’ IT very much, this collective penguin mind thing. It just seem to make his life hard, attack him, try and control him, and use up all his energy.

  His laptop, like him, had evolved too, adapted to his need, it was survival of the fittest in a world of demanding nature, and need for perfect design. You could almost hear the collective intake of breath, the gasp of shock, and feel the conscious surprise in the air.

  Everyone would now also be getting his thoughts, his ideas, his views, his understanding.

  He had outsmarted it, at least for the moment, but in a balanced, shared benefit, sort of way. He wasn’t turning his back on it; he was simply making a point.

  He looked down at the back of the laptop again and noticed something. There was a small blue sticker on the back, on it was written in small neat handwriting, I Love you, and be careful.

  She knew, but then she always knew, in a sort of holistic, patient sort of way. “I love you too” he whispered.

  He then looked left - there was the elephant again next to him, looking down the slope - “Bloody hell, rather you than me mate” said the elephant to Dave, still looking down the almost sheer drop.

  He then placed his dark blue and black ‘Animal’ bandana around his head, onto and above which he had added the words ‘Living The’ in biro.

  Dave lowered his shades over his eyes, adjusted his headphones, and selected an appropriate Meatloaf track on his tape player.

  It was at that moment that a butterfly landed on the front end of his laptop, which was a very odd thing to see up on this remote mountain, its blue and black wings opened for a moment and then closed again, preparing itself.

  It was not facing Dave, it was looking down the slope as if it were looking forward to the ride.

  Dave thought for a moment about shooing it off, but he was worried about what effect that may have - he had read stories about butterflies and the effects they could create - besides it seemed to know what it was doing, and it was almost prophetic that it should be there.

  Dave carefully pushed himself off down the hill, and was gone.

  He was flying now, with his determined face on, surfing down the icy mountainside, with a long shout of “Yeehaa” echoing over the valley as he went.

  He finally reached terminal velocity on the lower slopes, his bandana flapping in the wind as he plummeted, in full view of the colony, faster than any bloody seagull could ever go.

  Then it was all over.

  Several hours later, all the other penguins would be doing the same, a wake-up call for them all, with a long line going up the mountain, carrying their own converted synchronistic surfing equipment.

  They would all be getting flashes of inspiration, motivation, coordinated genius ideas, the need to ascend the mountain, no longer so blind as they were.

  In time they would all climb higher, and develop more extreme ski slopes, developing new skills, to slide all the way down, and beyond.

  The penguin world would be a different place.

  That after all was what life was all about, and all part of the game that you played.

  With rules that worked both ways, on a never ending journey…

  but now possibly, a much happier one ...