The Farpool

by Philip Bosshardt

  Chapter 8

  Seome

  Omsh’pont, kel: Omt’or

  Time: 765.6, Epoch of Tekpotu

  Angie wasn’t sure exactly when they had really made their decision. She only knew that somehow a decision was made and it didn’t make any sense but there it was.

  Chase never missed a meal and he attacked the tong’pod with great energy, cracking legs, sucking out the meat, slurping and sucking on his fingers.

  “Only thing we’re missing is butter,” he said with meat dribbling down his chin. “Try some, you’ll like it.”

  But Angie just wasn’t that hungry. She watched the shapes and shadows drifting by the translucent walls of the pod, walls that looked like fingers jammed together.

  “Look at them, staring at us. It’s like we’re the ones in an aquarium now. I guess that makes us even.”

  Chase sucked on another pod…Kloosee had called it gisu. It tasted like orange, sweet, a bit tart. Refreshing. He finished off five of them. “At least, we have plenty to eat.”

  “Is that all you can think about? Chase, I want to go home. I don’t like this place. It gives me the creeps. I miss Mom. I miss Dr. Wright’s clinic and all the patients. I miss working out with my girlfriends at the track, running laps, laughing and cutting up. We need to get out of here. Go back through that Farpool or whatever it is.”

  “We just got here. We’ve hardly seen anything. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

  Angie just stared at her boyfriend. She really did love him but honestly, sometimes—

  “Chase, remember when we talked about what we wanted to do with our lives? It’s called the future.”

  “Sort of—“

  “I wanted to be a doctor. You know… help people.”

  “Angie, look around…these people need help. They just asked for our help. You can start helping right here.”

  Angie spluttered. She went to the walls, glared at the passersby and stuck out her tongue. Several paused in their ceaseless roaming and stared back through the veil.

  “People…give me a break. Look at them. They’re not people. They’re fish. I don’t know about you, but no way am I going through that procedure Kloosee mentioned…that em’took.”

  Chase licked off his fingers and got up. He went over to her and put his arms around her waist. “Angie…we’ve got to think this through.”

  “Oh, yeah, like you’re the brains of the outfit. You’re the one who got us into this. Just get me home…that’s all I want.” She twisted out of his embrace and wrapped her arms around her shoulders. She began pacing around the Notwater pod, poking into the pliable walls, jabbing at eyes staring back at her from the other side. “This place gives me the creeps.”

  “What do you think Kloosee and Pakma were thinking when they got shot by that cop on the beach? Just minding their own business—“

  “And scaring the crap out of people on the beach….”

  “They took one hell of a big risk showing up like that. They did it because they were desperate. You’ve been outside…you’ve heard that blasted noise. Look what it’s doing to their world. I don’t know how they stand it…it’d drive me nuts. And the Umans, whatever they are, they don’t want to listen. Maybe we can do something good here. Just once, Angie…just once I want to do something more than take inventory every Sunday afternoon at the surf shop. Something more than dust shelves, unload trucks, put T-shirts on hangers. There’s got to be more to life than that.”

  Angie stopped her pacing and glared back at him, hands on hips. “You could go to college. You could enroll in Net tutoring, make something of yourself, you know. We’ve talked about this like a million times.”

  “That’s not what I am. I wanted to go with Kloosee and Pakma because…I don’t know, ‘cause it’s what I am. Kind of like an explorer. There’s two things I like, I mean besides you—“

  “Hey, thanks for including me.”

  “No, really…I like the ocean and I like techjam, playing my go-tone with the Croc Boys. Maybe I’m just an artist. I’d like to find a way to combine them. But the surf shop—Dad wants me to go in with him as a partner—that’s not me. No way. Plus, maybe cave diving. That’s a rush…going into places nobody’s ever seen before. A little bit dangerous…”

  “A lot dangerous…you almost didn’t make it out that one time—“

  “Yeah, but it’s so cool.” Chase got up and went over to the translucent wall. “I don’t know, but I feel like I’m supposed to be here. I want to go through with that procedure.”

  Angie was unconvinced. “Not me. I don’t want to be some kind of monster or freak. I don’t want to look like them—“ She gaped back at faces staring at the two of them. “I like my long legs and cute butt. I like my perky little curls.”

  “I still think your face looks like a chocolate swirl cookie. Cookie—“

  “Flip,” Angie shot back. It was a nickname from years ago, because he had such big feet. Chase was a natural swimmer.

  “Well, suit yourself. I thought we were a team. Me…I’m doing it.”

  “Chase, just get me home. That’s all I want now. I don’t think we can help these people.”

  So they stood there along the walls of the Notwater pod, glaring and pouting at each other. When Chase started to stick his lower lip out like a five-year old, Angie knew it was all over. In spite of herself, she burst out laughing. Then the laughs became tears. She let him cradle her and sobbed for a few minutes.

  “I’ll tell Kloosee we’re ready,” Chase said quietly.

  And that’s how life-changing decisions were made.

  The em’took procedure would be conducted in the Kelktoo chambers. After Chase had let Kloosee know they were going through with em’took, a pair of bed-like cocoon pods were situated just outside the Notwater pod. Through the echopod, Kloosee explained what they were to do. Longsee and Pakma joined in.

  “Open the em’took by pressing on the side…you’ll feel a series of bumps—when they’re both open, lie down inside, face up. Fold your arms over your chest. Then relax…we’ll do the rest.”

  Chase said, “I thought we’re supposed to be unconscious…anesthetized, before you start.”

  The echopod whistled. A different voice came through, older, harsher, gruffer. It was Longsee.

  “After you lie down inside, contractile fibers will unfurl and extend. They will envelop your body. The fibers have sharp tips. You won’t feel it but the tips will inject a potion. You will sleep. And when you wake up, the em’took will be done. If all goes well—“

  Angie shuddered, held tightly to Chase’s shoulders. “Ugh. If all goes well…I wish he hadn’t said that.”

  “I think we understand,” Chase said. He looked at Angie. They kissed for a moment, then both took a deep breath together, like they often did going overboard before a dive. That made them laugh.

  “Just like going under,” she said, laughing, to keep from shivering.

  Then, the two em’took cocoons began squeezing their way between the wall segments, like they were being excreted into the pod. They did look like beds, big oblong beds, encased in some kind of scaly outer covering. Chase decided they looked like gigantic watermelon halves, even down to the black seeds scattered around the interior.

  Angie made a face. And the two of them lay down carefully inside their pods.

  For a long time, nothing happened. Chase dozed off, then awoke hearing a faint whistle. He sniffed something, it smelled like oranges. Then he noticed a faint mist issuing into the pod.

  This is like being in a coffin, he thought. He’d been cave diving in tight spots like this, so he told himself he could get through it. But he wondered about Angie; how was she doing? The mist thickened. He didn’t know it but the mist contained the first wave of programmed bacteria. The bacteria would begin the em’took process, penetrating into his nose, his mouth and eyes, burr
owing into his skin, breaking down tissues and bone and cartilage, rebuilding structures to make him more compatible with Seome.

  “The em’took begins with a genetic sequencing and neural scan. After the sequencing and scan, the bacteria are altered and ‘tuned’ to match the recipient. The sequencing and scanning process is known as vish’tu, which in the Seomish language means a journey or a roam about the sea. The name of the modification process is also used in the Seomish language to mean birth or living space, connoting a place of new birth.”

  Of course, Chase didn’t know any of this. His echopod described the process in detail, but the voice was soft and staticky and he wasn’t listening. Instead, he grew sleepy. Angie was already asleep inside her own pod.

  That’s when the dreams came.

  It was Stokey Shivers who'd gotten them both into this fix…Stokey and nobody else. He was always daring Chase, daring him to do stuff. "Betcha can't do this, huh? See if you can top this, wise guy."

  Chase had gotten sick of it, but he couldn't very well back down, now could he? A boy's got to stand up for himself. Got a reputation to protect.

  Around the beginning of the year 2114, Stokey and Chase were exploring caves out along a ridge off Coral Road. Underground, partially underwater limestone caverns. Chase had been warned against this by Mack, his father. They had scuba gear, but found they didn’t need it. They dared each other to veer off the main cave branch into an unknown and unexplored branch, known locally as Crocodile Corner, or colloquially as ‘The Croc.” They promptly got lost.

  So that's how come they wound up lost that cold winter afternoon in the cramped and clammy dead end branch of a tunnel they'd found in the back of the Croc. Chase liked caving--only wise guys called it spelunking, for God's sake. He liked it a lot. You could go places nobody had ever seen before. You could be by yourself, except that was a bad idea. You always went caving with a buddy, so if one of you got hurt, the other could help out or go get help.

  It was after school, and Stokey had dared him to go into their favorite cave at the back of Crocodile Corner, down there where the streambed petered out, go into that last unexplored branch that they'd named Yawning Mouth a few years ago, because that's what it looked like.

  Chase didn't really want to but then Stokey was good at pestering and whining and making a scene. So they went.

  Inside Yawning Mouth, they took the dark branch and traveled down, down, down, deeper into the earth, through dripping stalactites and slippery limestone, playing their flashlights back and forth, making funny faces at each other in the dim yellow light, or shadow puppets on the veined walls.

  They'd been going down for a good hour, when Chase figured Yawning Mouth was a bit deeper than either one had bargained for. So they stopped. They tried to get their bearings. They tried to backtrack and see the path they had followed.

  But they couldn't see anything. Then the flashlight died.

  That's when they knew they were lost.

  Stokey Shivers, because he was Stokey Shivers, started whining.

  "Now what, wise guy? Now what are we going to do?"

  "Shut up," Chase said. "I'm trying to think."

  There was about five minutes of silence, broken only by the drip-drip-drip of water from somewhere above them. The air was cold, kind of raw and damp, and the stone ledge where they had stopped was slippery. It dropped further down ahead of them, but without the light, neither boy wanted to move an inch forward.

  "Chase--?"

  "What?"

  "I think there's a cliff ahead of us. This ledge seems to slope down pretty fast."

  "Yeah…I know."

  "Are you still thinking?"

  "Trying to." Stokey had the slightest stutter to his voice. He was growing up; sometimes, he squeaked and sounded like a bird.

  "What are we going to do?"

  "I don't know yet." Chase probed the nearest wall with his hands, running his fingers along its damp glassy surface. He swung further and managed to knock Stokey in the side of the face. "Sorry…I was just trying to get a feel for what's around us."

  "We're stuck here, aren't we?"

  "Maybe. You're the turdwipe that caused all this. If you hadn't dared me, we wouldn't be here."

  "I'm afraid…didn't you bring your squawker?"

  "Me? I thought you did." Squawkers took a hack off the locator sats in orbit. You carried them in your pocket and they chirped out where you were, right down to a few feet.

  "Jesus…what are we going to do?"

  Chase was increasingly aware of the quaver in Stokey's voice. It wasn't puberty or anything like that now. It was fear, probably panic. But cavers never panicked. You got hurt when you panicked.

  Cavers thought things through.

  "I got an idea-" Chase said. "It might not work--"

  "What is it?"

  He'd been tinkering with Bailey the last few weeks. Dad didn't know about it; Mr. Meyer would have been furious if he had. You didn't go tinkering with stuff without Dad's permission. Mack Meyer was the best damned inventor Scotland Beach, Florida had ever seen. The shed out back was full of inventions…you could hardly get in the door without stepping on one.

  Bailey was Chase's favorite. A microflyer--they'd called it drone a long time ago. Powered by the sun. No bigger than a hummingbird, with a quantum brain, all kinds of attachments--wings that could flap so fast they were a blur, a real-life jet, some small props--man, Bailey was a hot rod, no doubt about it.

  Late at night, when Dad had gone to bed and the house was real quiet, Chase Meyer would fling open his second-floor window and summon Bailey from the top of the shed. He had a nest or a docking station up there. He'd taught Bailey to respond to some whistles, some basic voice commands. Lately, he'd found an olfactory program on the WorldNet, picked up some gizmos around the shed, paid or filched the rest from the store, and cobbled up a basic sniffer nose for the dude. He trained it to search out and home on certain smells, especially his own. Wasn't that a hoot? Bailey trained to sniff him out like a bloodhound, ferret out his own bad breath and body odor.

  He figured, after some tests, the dude could sniff him out from as far away as several miles.

  Not bad for a kid inventor. Dad would have been proud. Dad would also have whipped him to Tampa and back for messing around with Bailey too. But Bailey had become his best friend, especially while Dad recovered from the gunshot wounds. Late at night, hours after he called Bailey into his room for a chat, he'd drift off to sleep, then awaken just enough to catch the micro-drone hovering gently in the corner with his big red eye winking on and off softly, or maybe just perched on the old Navy trunk at the end of the bed, quietly whirring in sleep mode.

  Chase told Stokey about Bailey and his new sniffer. "I don't know if it'll work this far underground. I really don't know what his maximum range is. But we have to try it."

  "Sure, man, sure, try it. Let's try anything."

  So he shouted out the magic words--he'd programmed Bailey the Dude to switch the sniffer on and off by voice command, and then winced as the echo cascaded all around them like an amplified drunk, finally dying off into distant whispers of his words.

  "BAILEY…BIG NOSE…big nose…big nose…b-I-g…n-o-s-e…b…i…g…n…o…s…e…"

  After that, they waited. And as they waited, Chase learned just how big a crybaby Stokey Shivers really was. If they ever got out of there, he was for sure going to put some distance between himself and Stokey Shivers. By the time an hour had passed, Stokey's sniffing and sniveling was about to drive Chase mad.

  They lost track of time. Maybe two hours had passed, maybe five or six. Both boys had drifted in and out of a semi-conscious daze. It was Chase who heard it first…

  In between creaks and groans of the cave walls, and the steady drip of water, a faint buzzing could gradually be made out. More like a whirring, like a blender. Chase suddenly came to, and sat up, s
training to make out the sound. Slowly, infinitesimally, it grew more audible, though at first the whirring faded in and out.

  Then, the buzz grew quite distinct and he was sure. It was the Dude. Bailey the Flying Dude had been systematically searching up and down tunnels and branches, homing on the distinctive aroma of Chase’s bad breath and body odor. Before he could scramble to his feet and call out, a dim but familiar red light came winking out of the gloom, materializing in mid-air like a ghostly apparition.

  Bailey hovered ten feet above them, winking like a firefly, his props and motor whirring with satisfaction. If he'd been a dog, his tail would have been wagging.

  "Bailey…you old dude," Chase laughed out loud. He wanted to hug the bot.

  From that point on, it was a simple matter of following the winking red light, up and up and up and finally out of Crocodile Corner’s Lost Tunnel. An hour later, when Stokey and Chase had emerged into the cold sweet-smelling night air, they silently hugged each other.

  Chase Meyer sure was glad he'd disobeyed his Dad and inserted that olfactory program after all.

  For pretty much his whole life, Chase had always been told he had a vivid imagination. But nothing he and Stokey saw or imagined in the caves at Croc’s Corner ever remotely resembled what he saw when he woke up from the em’took.

  This time, he knew he wasn’t dreaming.

  As a child, Angie had always been a serious person, committed and dedicated to whatever task she was working on. She was extremely imaginative even as a very young child and often spent hours amusing herself with the VR slate (the oculus) and the holopod and 3d printer, creating and populating imaginary worlds. She showed abilities as a filmmaker and writer/storyteller that impressed her Mom a great deal.

  One of her favorite imaginary worlds was one she called Principia, full of kings and queens, fairy princesses and dragons and lots of horses. Angie always loved horses. Some of her own work with the oculus involved creating and animating all kinds of horses. She had two imaginary horses, Lucy and Lucky, that she used a lot as imaginary creatures in her stories.

  When Angie was four, her father Horace abandoned the family, for another woman. The family was living in Gainesville, Florida at the time, and Horace was a professor at the University of Florida. He taught American History and Political Science. The younger woman was named Cecilia Fortnoy and she worked as an assistant staff aide to the Florida Governor in Tallahassee. Horace became interested in her because he seemed to gravitate to woman who were “important” or doing important things in his eye. Being around powerful people or celebrities always fascinated Horace. Maggie, working in Gainesville as a waitress at a fast-food restaurant (Venetian Feast) couldn’t fill this need. They divorced in summer 2106 and Maggie had to take a second, later a third job, to make ends meet.

  Angie was devastated. She felt totally abandoned.

  Working so many jobs to put food on the table, Maggie Gilliam (she kept her married name) was always tired and irritable. Angie saw what this did to people. One of the effects of Maggie having to work so hard and being tired and cranky all the time, was that Mom no longer had time to play games or do puzzles with her kids. This made Angie feel lonesome and she retreated into her imaginary worlds even more. At the age of six, starting school and Net Tutor, she was already writing and illustrating her own Principia stories.

  But nothing she had ever imagined for Principia ever came close to what she saw when she woke up from the em’took.

  This time, Angie knew she wasn’t dreaming.

  About a year before he and Angie went through the Farpool, Chase read an article in Wikipedia about the old sci-fi movie The Creature from the Black Lagoon.

  “The Creature’s appearance was based on old seventeenth century woodcuts of two bizarre creatures called the Sea Monk and the Sea Bishop. The Creature’s final head was based on that of the Sea Monk, but the original discarded head was based on that of the Sea Bishop.

  “In the film, the eyes of the Creature were a fixed part of the rubber construction of the suit. The actors who played the part of the “Gill Man” could barely see, if at all. In the second film, the eyes were replaced with large, bulbous-fish-eyes, to assist in the actor’s vision.”

  Chase opened the top of the em’took pod and sat up. What he saw reminded him of that old movie…he was sure he was still dreaming. He started to lie back down but a voice spoke to him, a familiar voice.

  “Hey, it’s me….eeeggoddd…what the hell…? Yuck….!”

  It was Angie. No it wasn’t. It was the Creature. No, that wasn’t it either. It was something his brain had conjured up from the slime-pit of old nightmares….

  “Angie--?”

  They both clambered up and sat on the edge of their pods.

  “You look…disgusting…like…is that really you? I mean, God…Chase…you look like a frog on steroids….something from Nat Geo…maybe the Galapagos….”

  Chase started feeling around, his face, arms, legs. There weren’t any mirrors. But if he looked anything like Angie—

  She had a blade-shaped head, rising out of a scaly, armored chest and shoulders, her neck draped with folds and flaps of loose skin. The flaps fluttered when she breathed…gills, he figured out at last. She’s got gills, for God’s sake.

  Her arms had several rows of fins ending in fingers, like a normal hand, but more fingers than she should have had. He blinked, not sure he was seeing right, then wiped his own eyes and jumped half a foot, realizing he had the same thing.

  Jesus, Mary and Joseph…what’s happened to me?

  He stepped off the edge of the pod and looked closer at Angie. She flinched as he approached.

  Angie had two legs, like normal, but her legs had flukes at the bottom, multiple rows of them, and even her midsection had fins. As he gazed at her from the side, he saw a large dorsal fin along her spine, and a distinct fold in the skin on either side, the fold extending from her neck to her feet. Lateral line, he surmised. All fish had them…it helps them locate movement and vibration…he knew that from fishing off Half Moon Cove with his Dad.

  “Don’t come any closer…you make me sick.”

  “I guess I look the same…Angie, look at us! We’re amphibians! I’m breathing air…you’ve got gills, fins, you’re a fish.”

  “You’re a freak…Chase, I don’t like this…can we—“

  But she stopped when the roar of rushing water came bursting through the walls. The fingers of the pod walls had parted and a wave slammed into them. In seconds, the entire pod was drowned and both of them scrambled to hold on to something.

  Don’t hold your breath, Chase signaled her, for he had just then figured this was something the Seomish had planned. If they were truly amphibious, this was one way to find out.

  Cautiously, Chase let out a breath and inhaled.

  For a few seconds, as fluid entered his lungs, he panicked, flailing and cartwheeling in the water. But…then…no, it was okay…it was all right…he could…just relax…take a breath…breathe in…breathe out…that’s it…it’s okay…breathe in…breathe out….

  Through the silty water, he could make out Angie’s body, shaking, panicking as well. He kicked and swam to her, holding her by the arms, hand-gesturing to her.

  Breathe in…slow breaths…breathe in and out…slowly…that’s it…

  By stroking her neck, he managed to calm her down and saw with satisfaction she was getting it, she was sucking in water, she was breathing, and her face lost that wild glaring look. It was hard to tell when your face resembled something from a child’s nightmare. But she looked better. She wasn’t thrashing around so much.

  Finally, she sort of half-smiled, half-nodded.

  I’m okay now…I think…she mouthed at him.

  Shapes materialized out of the murk. Right away, Chase realized it was Kloosee. Pakma and others followed. A circle soon formed around them.

  Chase felt vib
rations in his head, then the voices came out of the static of his echopod, lots of voices, overwhelming sounds, a symphony, a cacophony of sounds, honking, bellowing snorting and clicking, from all directions.

  “Ahhhh…what a racket!”

  Kloosee swam over and looked directly at Chase. “(Skreeah)…you hear me? You understand me?”

  Chase nodded, or tried to nod. “Yeah, I hear you…barely. But there’s so much noise—such a din…it’s like I hear everything—“

  Kloosee said, “You do hear everything. We Seomish live in a world of sound. And your companion--?”

  Pakma was helping Angie get used to her own transformation. She drifted about aimlessly for awhile, shaking her blade-shaped head from side to side, trying to find something she could focus on.

  “It’s like a party…everybody’s talking at once…what’s that pounding in the background…it’s giving me a headache?”

  Pakma told her, “It’s the Sound. The wavemaker. We live with this commotion all the time. We can’t take much more.”

  Angie understand the Sound now in a visceral way. “I see what you mean.”

  Kloosee inspected Chase’s gill slits. They seemed to be working okay. “You can breathe okay? No problems?”

  Chase said,” Yeah, it’s really weird…but I can. This is like no scuba gear I ever dived with. Angie--?”

  “Me too…I have to breathe slowly…but it’s working…somehow….don’t ask me to explain it. Can we still breathe air?”

  Pakma said, “You can. You are adapted by the em’took for water and Notwater.”

  Chase couldn’t get over the hubbub all around him. It was clear the Seomish lived in a complex sound environment. The water was always dark and murky, but they could hear everything.

  “Try pulsing me,” Kloosee suggested. “You can do that now. A ping of sound…right here—“ he clutched his midsection, between his fins.

  “How do I do that?”

  “Like a cough…from the back of your throat…expel water. You can shape it with your mouth and nose---like this—“ Kloosee made an exaggerated snort. Chase didn’t feel anything. But Kloosee sort of half smiled, kind of like a grimace. “I pulse confusion…many bubbles…much confusion, nervous…anxious…your bubbles are totally chaotic, Chase.”

  Chase tried the trick, snorting at Kloosee. The echo came back an even return, calm, maybe undertones of humor, even some laughter…he couldn’t quite—

  “Wow…this is going to take some getting used to…it’s like I can hear what your stomach’s doing. I just don’t know what it all means…you ate something heavy last night?”

  Kloosee laughed, laughed in the Seomish way, a snort and half giggle. “Om’pod shells…too many of them. They were delicious.”

  “Chase,” Angie was trying the pulsing out for herself. “Chase, this is wicked…it’s like I can see right through things…right inside. Pakma…she’s like a fountain…she’s burbling and gurgling like a baby inside.” Angie smiled at Pakma…”—it’s a happy sound…or echo or whatever—“

  “Try maneuvering now,” Kloosee suggested. “Kick off and use your flukes. A few laps around the pod—“

  Chase did that. He found it a breeze. “Wow, man…better than flippers in the pool. I could burn up the laps with this. Why didn’t I have these when I was on the swim team?” Indeed, Chase found it took only a few kicks, a few rolls and strokes, to streak from one side of the pod to the other. He could barrel roll, stop short, streak off in any direction…no effort at all.

  Angie did the same thing. The two of them did a few laps together for their audience.

  “Like Fred Astaire,” Angie decided. “With flippers.”

  Chase pulled up next to Kloosee. He pointed to his head. “Is there any way I can filter some of this noise out. It’s driving me nuts…everybody’s talking at once. There must be thousands of voices in my head.”

  “Ten million, give or take,” Kloosee told him. “And that’s just Omsh’pont. All of the kel…perhaps twenty million souls. Beyond the Torsh’pont, the seamounts, if you drift with oot’stek, that is the repeater layer, you can hear all of them. During the em’took, a modified echopod was placed in your skull. I can show you how to tune it. First, you must learn how to activate the echopod. It’s on right now.”

  “So how do I turn it off?”

  “Say this: kkkllliiikkk….”

  Chase tried it. Angie was listening too and also tried. Nothing changed.

  “I still hear a racket.”

  “Try again…kkkllliiikkk….”

  Once again, Chase clicked out the sound. “Kkkllliiiccckkk…Kkkllliiigggkkk…damn it! It’s not working.”

  Kloosee laughed. “Our language is so different from yours. And now, with em’took, your vocal cords are changed. Listen to me carefully….kkkllliiikkk.”

  Chase tried again. Then Angie blurted out, “I think I did it. I don’t hear much…like a cloak over everything.”

  “Say it again…kkkllliiikkk.”

  Angie repeated the phrase. “Now all that racket’s back. What did I just do, Kloosee?”

  “You turned your echopod off and back on again.”

  Chase was getting frustrated. “If she can do it, I can do it. Kkkllliiikkk….” Then, as if a switch had been thrown, the noise all around died off. “Hey, I did it! Everything’s muted. I did it!”

  “I envy you,” Pakma said. “Being able to shut off the Sound. We can’t do that. We hear it all the time, even when we sleep.”

  Kloosee offered more explanation. “Your echopod, which we call ot’lum, has other features. It translates. And it speaks knowledge. All you have to do is ask…ask in the right way.”

  “Cool…like a Net connection. Show me.”

  “Turn on the pod,” Kloosee told him.

  Chase tried the activation phrase. “Kkkllliiikkk…” The cacophony came again, undergirded by the pounding drone of the distant wavemaker. “Okay, it’s on…now what?”

  “Ask a question.”

  Chase thought for a moment. “Okay…em’kel…what is an em’kel?”

  The answer came immediately, in a high whiny nasal sort of voice. “Shkreeah…query: ‘em’kel’…the em’kel is the basic social subdivision of the Seomish kel. It is a difficult concept to define because it is so broad and flexible. Simply stated, an em’kel is any subgrouping that considers itself distinct from the kel at large…ask also of family, waterclan, tribe…shkreeah….”

  Chase could scarcely believe it. “That’s really cool…like my own personal wikipedia.”

  Kloosee had an idea. “Since you asked of the em’kel, I should take you to Putektu.”

  “What’s that?”

  “My em’kel…it’s on the other side of the city. In this way, I will introduce you and your companion Angie to a great Seomish custom…the vish’tu…the roam.”

  “I’m up for it,” Chase said. He checked out Angie. “You okay?”

  Angie was still experimenting with her own echopod. “Yeah, I think…now, if I could just shut this damned thing off again…that drone’s driving me nuts.”

  “Come,” Pakma said, “let’s roam…together.”

  The four of them lifted off the pod floor, now open to the sea, and kicked off. Chase and Angie found they could easily keep up with Kloosee and Pakma.

  Stroking easily, they headed away from the Kelktoo chambers, away from the side of the towering seamount and out over the vast city of Omsh’pont.

  Though the seas of Seome were generally murky and dark, Chase could still see beads and strings of lights defining a vast metropolis like lighted veins and arteries. Bioluminescence, he reminded himself. Floatways, braces, struts, all kinds of structures were dimly lit in the murk. Chase realized for the first time that the Seomish didn’t need sight and vision so much in their world. Theirs was a world of sound and scent. What they couldn’t see they could hear
or smell.

  This was going to take some getting used to.

  “Kloosee,” he asked, “how deep are we here, in the city?”

  “If you mean from the Notwater interface, we are over two hundred beats below.”

  “What’s a beat?”

  Kloosee told him, “Look it up.”

  They swam on across the city, Chase and Angie following in the wake of Kloosee and Pakma.

  Angie found she could see very little. Beads of lights, shapes materializing out of the gloom, bodies in motion, a dizzying profusion of forms and ghostly shadows flitting in and out of view.

  “Pakma…Kloosee…we can’t see much back here.”

  Pakma said, “Your eyes are adapted as ours are. Use your sounder.”

  “My what—what’s a sounder?”

  Pakma explained. “All Seomish have a soundbulb…we project sounds, perceive the echoes. That’s how we locate things, how we navigate. The em’took gives you an artificial soundbulb.”

  “How do I use it?”

  “You must make this sound…kkklllooossshhkkk….kkklllooossshhkkk.”

  Angie said, “You’ve got to be kidding.” She made several tries, alternating between something that sounded like a snort and a laugh. Finally, with Pakma’s help, she got it.

  She was overwhelmed by what came back….an orchestra of sounds, every imaginable note and tune and bleep and click and whistle and chirp and squeak. Her head spun with it all and she couldn’t make any sense of it all.

  “Wow…” was all she could say. “That’s like sonar…Chase, we could use this when we go wreck diving.”

  Chase agreed. “I’m trying it too…it’s going to take along time to figure this out.”

  Pakma laughed. “For us…millions of mah.”

  Kloosee led them across the city, between floating pavilions and forests of spheres and cubes and pyramids and things that seemed like overgrown mushrooms and gigantic coral reefs. Presently, he announced they were approaching their destination.

  “This is Meta’shpont…Putektu has chambers above the echo layer…just follow me….”

  Chase and Angie realized they had crossed most of the city and were now near the base of another towering seamount. Their sounders produced a strong monotone echo…whatever Meta’shpont was, it was big. Gigantic.

  They ascended up the slopes of the mountain until Kloosee found a narrow crevice. He squeezed in, and the others followed. Though it was dimly lit inside, Chase could see and sound enough to understand they had entered a confusing and labyrinthine warren of caves.

  There were others inside, working, sleeping, eating and one couple copulating.

  Hmmm, Chase thought. Different sense of privacy here. I’ll have to remember this for future study.

  Angie said nothing.

  Kloosee led them deeper, twisting, turning, rising and descending until they came to a larger chamber. There he introduced them to Koloh tom.

  Kloosee explained that Koloh was a repeater. When Chase and Angie seemed puzzled, he let Koloh himself explain. The repeater was a smallish Seomish male, but with powerful forefins and flukes. It was evident from even a casual probe that Koloh was an exceptionally strong swimmer.

  “I am oot’stek…a living repeater,” Koloh told them. “I roam on certain courses and headings, listening for messages and news that come from the kels, messages reflecting off the deep sound channel…we call it the oot’keeor. Most of the time, the signals reflect cleanly, and they can travel for hundreds of beats. But just to be sure, the oot’stek re-broadcast the message in their own voices…we sing the messages and pass them on.” Koloh snapped his flukes with pride. “It’s a lonely life…but it gives us time to think and imagine. And to dream.”

  “A living phone system,” Angie marveled.

  “Koloh has a magnificent repeater’s voice,” Pakma said. “His voice is among the best known and loved through all our seas.”

  Chase probed around the chambers and found work platforms, something that resembled a swaying harness, tables that seemed like coral reefs, wall niches where other em’kel members seemed to be sleeping or studying or doing other things…truthfully, Chase had no idea what they were doing.

  “How many of these em’kel are there, Kloos?” he asked.

  “Ah, now you ask a difficult question,” Kloosee replied. “The number changes…em’kel are always forming and dying off, re-forming and changing.”

  Pakma gave it some thought. “I can name some of the older ones…of course, there is Kelktoo.”

  “The House of Knowledge,” Chase remembered. “Like an academy.”

  “Very good,” Pakma said. “All Seomish learn and study for many mah in their Kelktoo. There is Anuk’te…the young ones like that.”

  “My favorite!” Kloosee announced. “Sex day and night…but you have to be compatible, thirty to eighty mah old.”

  Pakma ignored him. “Mak’tovede…they enjoy gourmet cuisine, especially the tong’pod…I believe you’ve had that.”

  Chase said, “I did. Strong, spicy taste.”

  “Indeed. Mak’tovede has many ways to prepare tong’pod. Then, there’s Pelspo’tu…they enjoy driving and racing their kip’ts…you’ve ridden in the kip’t.”

  “Don’t forget Eniklish’ke…the sporting em’kel, they play tonk’ro and arctoss all day and night.”

  “And one of my favorites…Ve’kasto…all female…they just enjoy roaming together, chatting. There are hundreds of em’kel…the number is always changing.”

  “My em’kel, Putek’tu is a special one…Pakma is not even a member…she can enter because she’s with me.”

  “What’s so special about this one?”

  Pakma answered, cutting off Kloosee in mid-sentence. “They have this strange idea that the seamothers know things we don’t…they want to live in the Notwater, play with the seamothers.”

  Kloosee was annoyed. “That’s not quite it. Putektu believes the seamothers are related to us somehow…our goal is to develop the ability to survive for long periods in the Notwater, maybe someday to live there…and learn.”

  “It’s a foolish dream,” Pakma decided. “Don’t waste your time here with these romantic fools.”

  Chase could see this was a sensitive subject between them. Better not touch that nerve again. “Sounds like a bunch of clubs…you don’t have families…mother, father, brother, sister, like that?”

  “We have mothers and fathers,” Kloosee said. “But at age three mah, every Seomish child moves to the Kelk’too. From this time on, the mother and father have no responsibility for their child…upbringing and learning is the within the Kelk’too. This lasts for about five mah. After Ke’tuvish’tek…the Circling…the young male or female is free to join or create any em’kel he wants to.”

  “Circling…” Chase tried out the Seomish word. Ke’tuvish’tek. “I must ask my echopod what this is. You’ve both done this.”

  “We have,” Kloosee and Pakma said in unison. Koloh agreed with them.

  Then Kloosee interrupted. “Longsee is arranging an audience with the Metah herself. We will go before her this day and explain what your mission here is. She must approve.”

  “The Metah…?”

  “The eldest female of the kel,” Pakma told them. “Metashooklet. The One who lives in God. She is our leader.”

  “Cool,” Chase said. “And our mission is to meet up with these…Umans, you call them…and get them to stop making all this noise?”

  “Longsee believes the Umans will listen to you…his theory is that your race are direct ancestors of the Umans.”

  “But we don’t look human anymore,” Angie pointed out. “We look like you…or something other than human.”

  Kloosee had thought of that very point and raised the issue with Longsee before the em’took procedure. Maybe we should introduce them to the Umans as they are. But Longsee was adamant. They would be given the opp
ortunity to be modified so as to make their life on Seome more bearable.

  The truth was no one was sure they would ever be able to get back to their homeworld through the Farpool.

  Kloosee had not discussed this with Chase and Angie yet. Truth was, he wasn’t sure he knew how to even raise the subject.

  Though neither Chase nor Angie could distinguish one sound from another, Pakma presently announced that Longsee had signaled them. The Metah was ready for an audience.

  They left Putek’tu and headed away from the Meta’shpont, down and further down to the very base of the seamount, then out across the confusing maze of floatways and reefs of Omsh’pont to some kind of open plaza, a place vaguely pyramidal in the center of the city.

  The Metah’s chambers were near the apex of the pyramid, a platform open on all sides, draped with beads of lighted filaments. It was dark inside, but a circle of glowing coral defined the center of the space.

  The Metah drifted serenely over the circle of coral, flanked by armed prodsman.

  Chase and Angie followed Kloosee and Pakma inside. Longsee lok was already present, with others the humans didn’t recognize.

  The Metah, Iltereedah luk’t, was a vigorous older female of nearly two hundred mah, arthritic and stiff in places but much loved and respected by all. Chase was awed by the arrangement of lighted filaments. He whispered through his echopod, not realizing that all could hear everything.

  “Angie…this place looks like Citrus Grove Shopping Center, a week before Christmas.”

  “Shhh, show some respect, you jerk!” she hissed back. “It’s the Queen.”

  Iltereedah regarded them with cold eyes. Wrinkles and lines radiated out from her beak and face, the beak ritually scarred with cryptic symbols and notched rings.

  “These are the eekoti who came through the Farpool?” the Metah asked.

  “Most Affectionate Metah,” Longsee spoke up, “these eekoti were brought through by Kloosee and Pakma. They come to help us. Help us with the Umans.”

  The Metah made a sudden flip of her tail flukes and started circling, methodically pulsing Longsee and his assistants from the lab, then Chase and Angie, one by one, seeking deceit, seeking other purposes, the telltale bubbles of doubt. She found none.

  “Disgustingly ugly,” she pronounced, after returning to her position above the circle of glowing coral. “You have fashioned ot’lum for them?”

  “Yes, Affectionate Metah,” Longsee answered. “The lifesuit works. And they have undergone the em’took…it is necessary that they look like this. They have to survive in our waters and the Notwater. “

  Now, the Metah addressed Chase and Angie directly. Chase’s echopod screeched, then settled down to a scratchy translation that Chase could barely make out.

  “You have agreed to help us with the Umans…you do this of your own free will? I pulse nerves, anxiety…things trouble you, both of you. Tell me this—“

  Chase looked around, started to reply, but Angie beat him to it.

  “Your Honor…ma’am…we’re just normal people. We came with Kloosee and Pakma because…because, we felt sorry for them. They weren’t treated right on our world. They told us what was happening here. Chase and I thought…well, maybe we could help.” She reached for Chase’s hand, or his flipper, or whatever…and squeezed it. “We didn’t expect things like this…with us all changed, looking like—well, we didn’t expect it. We want to help. But I’m not sure what exactly we can do—“

  Here, Kloosee spoke up. “Affectionate Metah, we asked the eekoti to speak with the Umans at Kinlok. Convince them to shut down the wavemaker. We thought, since they are of the same race—“

  The Metah interrupted, “This is an unproven theory…there are many theories—“

  “Yes, yes, of course, Metah, but it was thought by our scientists and engineers that the Umans would listen to their own kind—“

  Iltereedah considered that. “The expedition is ready…supplies, the kip’ts, the special equipment?”

  Longsee said they were ready.

  Iltereedah decided. “We have no choice. Omt’or is dying. Seome is dying. The noise and the vibrations are constant, the wavemaker is unrelenting. And the Umans speak of greater threats…of something called a sun, a great light in the Notwater and a weapon that kills this sun…they say Seome is doomed anyway…we must do something. Thus I approve the expedition. Go with my blessing, eekoti. And the prayers of all Omt’or. Litor’kel ge to all of you.”

  Longsee led them out of the Metah’s chamber. Outside the great pyramid, they headed back to the project labs at the Kelktoo.

  “She’s worried,” Kloosee observed. “Understandably.”

  “The Ponkti want to attack the Umans,” Longsee said. “That’s all they understand. But they’ll just get killed in greater numbers…we’ve got nothing to stop Uman suppressors.”

  “What’s Ponkti?” Angie asked.

  Kloosee said, “The Ponkti are members of another kel, the other side of the world. It’s called Ponk’et…they’re all hotheads. They talk tough, make threats, fight all the time. No, we have to work with the Umans, not fight them.”

  “How many kels are there?” Chase asked. He tried keeping up with the Seomish as they darted and cruised among the minarets and buildings dotting the center of Omsh’pont. It was hard; the Seomish were great swimmers and why shouldn’t they be?

  “There are five great nations…waterclans,” said Pakma. “You’re in Omt’or now. There is also Ponk’et, Sk’ort, Eep’kos and Ork’et. They occupy the five great seas of Seome. Of course, Omt’or is the greatest of all.”

  “Of course,” said Angie. “Pakma, I have a request.”

  “What is it?”

  “These echopods we have…you said once they can translate, work like an encyclopedia and they can record. Is that true?”

  “Of course. I can show you how to do that.”

  “Good,” Angie said. “I want to start a journal…kind of an ‘Angie’s Unbelievable Adventure’ diary. Can you help me do that?”

  “I’ll help you while the kip’ts are being loaded.”

  “Great.”

  A day later, Longsee and a large crowd of onlookers watched as Kloosee and Pakma loaded up their kip’ts with supplies. There would be two kip’ts. The trip to the Farpool would take many days.

  The privy councilor to the Metah was also there, one Encolenia mek’t. She represented the Metah and her council.

  “Our prayers are with you, Kloosee ank and Pakma tek. And with the eekoti, especially. You have a long journey ahead of you and what you’re doing is critical to Omt’or, indeed to all the kels. Litorkel ge, both of you. The Metah hopes and prays that you will be successful in your mission. Make the Umans understand what they must do…otherwise, we have no future.”

  Pompous old windbag, thought Kloosee as he boarded the kip’t. Pakma was already in the other one.

  Longsee had one last word of advice. “Don’t be heroes. You’re not immortal, Kloosee. Omt’or needs you both to come back, alive and in good health. If you encounter any Ponkti, stay out of their way. They don’t speak for us…the Metah is trying to organize a meeting with other Metahs…make a common front against the Umans. Let the eekoti speak with them…I’m sure the Umans will listen to their own kind.”

  I’m not so sure about that, Kloosee thought. Still, he always lived for the chance to explore Notwater; it had been in his blood since childhood, since the Circling, since he’d seen seamothers breaching the surface like drunken revelers. Nobody’s taking this away from me.

  Kloosee closed and sealed the kip’t cockpit. He waved at the assembled crowd, then fired up the sled’s jets and rose on the current, climbing swiftly through the domes and floats of Omt’or, past the Torsh’pont until they felt the first faint tugs of the Omt’chor Current.

  They would have to tack and beat against that current to reach the P’o
nkel Sea and the Farpool.

  Angie’s Journal: Echopod 1

  “Well, so here I am, dictating this journal. I hope I’ve got the thing working right…Pakma showed me how it works. This is really crazy, you know. Here I am, dressed up, changed somehow, so I look like a circus freak from Sea World and we’re traveling halfway across this ocean world called Seome to speak with some more humans who are somehow destroying this very world. I can’t even come close to understanding it. And, really, I’m not sure I want to go on this little adventure…I’m kind of homesick. I miss Mom. I miss Dr. Wright and the Clinic and working with all the patients. Most of all, I miss my bestest friend Gwen…so this is for you, girl.

  “At least, Chase is here. He seems to be really into all this, but then I always said he’s part fish anyway. That’s what the Seomish are…really intelligent fish. Oh, Gwen, you wouldn’t believe what we’ve seen…whole underwater cities, ships, submarines, glowing coral…they really are intelligent and clever people…fish…amphibians…whatever they are….

  “We seem to be getting mixed up in their politics as well…they have tribes, or clans. They’re called kels. And they don’t get along that well…they have conflict on how to deal with these other humans. By the way, these other humans…the Seomish call them Tailless People of the Notwater—isn’t that a hoot?—are up on some island way up north. We’re heading there now. These guys are operating some kind of machine that makes an awful racket in the ocean. A weapon, I think. They’re fighting a war with another race…another planet, I guess. The Seomish don’t seem to understand all that, or they don’t care. They just want this noise and vibration to stop…it’s really hurting them. The Seomish want us to talk with the humans and make them shutdown the machine.

  “I don’t know how well that will go but I do know one thing: after we make this trip, I want to go home. Back through the Farpool…boy, is that a ride! And I want to get changed back too…I don’t like looking like some kind of giant frog. I miss checking out my cute little butt in the mirror and my long legs…these scales are the worst. They hurt when you touch them.

  “I asked Pakma and Kloosee about all this…going back, getting unmodified and so forth. They haven’t answered me straight so far…I think they’re more worried about this little mission.

  “But first chance we have, I’m going back…even if I have to go by myself. That worries me a little. I don’t think Chase wants to leave just yet. This was supposed to be a short trip, just to help out Kloosee and Pakma. Deep down inside, I think Chase would like to stay here, become one of them.

  “Not me. I guess we’ll deal with that when we have to. But I’m worried about it, Gwen. I really am.

  “That’s it for now. I’ll try to keep this journal going…get some other sounds. Pakma said there’s a way to record visual and scent impressions too. I have to record this. You’d never believe it, Gwen, if I didn’t.

  “Until next time…Angie, out.”

  End Recording