A white-finned goldfish swam across the tank, side to side, as he dodged the abundance of his companions. Fish had to get accustomed to such an inadequate living, though the white-finned fish wanted to take no part — he often questioned why he lived such a way.
If only he knew pet stores oversupply their common goldfish. After all, they're nothing more than feeder fish or a plaything sold to children.
A small girl lowered her body to the tank, her face touching it as her eyes shifted side to side, watching the fish. Most of the goldfish couldn't help but stare in dread at the human.
All the goldfish swam to the end of the tank away from the human except for the white-finned goldfish.
The fish spoke amongst each other, gossiping about how humans ate them, that rumor being that once chosen by the net of death, humans would place them in a clear bag and slurp them in one gulp.
The white-finned goldfish looked at the human, wondering about the day the net of death would select him. He wasn't suicidal, but he knew life was worth more than living in a confined area. If life was simply about being confined, the goldfish wanted no part, meaning he would rather die.
The human girl got bored and rubbed her eyes, walking away from the tank and taking her curiosity to another part of the pet store.
All the fish rejoiced, except for one, the white-finned goldfish; he hit his head against the glass floor, but he stopped once he saw a tuxedoed man walking toward the tank.
The man walked to the tank with an employee who held a net. They spoke to one another but suddenly stopped once the employee nodded and pointed to the tank, dipping the net of death into the water. He wagged the trap towards all the fish, though they dogged it.
The white-finned fish was sick of waiting. He knew his opportunity was now or never, his eyes focused on the net, exhaling as air bubbles came out of his gills. He swam to the net, pushing all the other fish out of the way as he slammed into the net.
The day finally arrived. The net of death selected the white-finned goldfish.
The employee brought the fish out of the water. The goldfish closed his mouth in an attempt to smile, but instead, he ended up flapping his body from side to side against the net, only if he knew his movements weren't from excitement but suffocation...
The employee placed the goldfish into a black bag, tightening it close and handing it to the man in the tuxedo.
The goldfish was confused; he was supposed to be placed in a clear bag and then swallowed by a human. His pupils widened, a realization occurring. 'What if life is more?' It was a simple notion, yet a profound one. What if life was more than just being confined?
What if?
Inside the bag, he witnessed complete darkness, an area of exile where he eventually lost track of time. Hope didn't die, but how much longer did he have to wait? Not too long because after four hours, the fish finally heard something other than the sound of splashing water.
The tuxedoed gentleman rang a doorbell, waiting outside an apartment — a lavish area — where the floors were carpeted with pristine red and black fabrics.
Inside the apartment, an eleven-year-old boy jumped up from his couch, throwing a TV remote to the floor and running to the door as he stumbled towards it. "I'm coming!"
The tuxedoed man waited at the door, tapping his foot on the ground and placing his hands behind his back as he held the bag.
The doorknob spun open, the boy's eyes widening in excitement as he fiddled with his hands. "Is he finally here?"
The tuxedoed man cleared his throat and said, "Sir, your father has allowed you to have it."
"Really?" the boy asked, a smile tugging up his face. "Really?"
"Really," the tuxedoed man said, returning a smile. He brought his hand in front of his body, showing the black bag, and he extended his hand — making it reachable for the boy. "He's all yours."
The boy closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Thank you, Floyd." He reached for the bag, grabbing it with both his hands.
The tuxedoed man saluted the boy and marched away from the apartment.
"Thank you," the boy said, closing the door.
The boy always wanted a pet, a friend he could talk to. His dog Walter didn't count. It had nothing to do with the fact the dog was a chihuahua, more about him being boring, almost like a robot. So he wanted something more intimate. He longed for a feeling he could get up to, a sensation he wanted to experience over and over — that necessity was a need for friendship.
The boy opened the bag, looking into it. "Hello, my name is Lewis Bird."
The goldfish spun in a circle. It was one thing to be brave when in the tank, but it was another to be fearless when you were finally about to be eaten.
Lewis brought the bag closer to his lips and extended them into a smile, his yellowish teeth showing.
The goldfish wished he could close his eyes, but a lack of eyelids forced him to watch his inevitable death as Lewis opened his mouth. His vision fixated on the red flesh and white taste-bud-covered tongue.
Lewis grinned and spoke into the bag's hole. "Your name will be Arthur! Arthur Penfish!" He lowered the bag.
Arthur released bubbles of relief from his gills. He quite liked the name.
Lewis flipped the bag into a fishbowl no bigger than one gallon.
Arthur tried swimming about in the tank, but it was too small. All he could do was swim in infinitesimal movements, far from what he was used to. His hope had died; he again found himself confined.
Lewis held the fishbowl, walking to the living room. He placed the bowl on the coffee table and sat on the couch. "Oh, the remote," Lewis said, grabbing the remote from the floor and putting on the television.
Lewis and Arthur watched hours of cartoons. This routine of watching television continued for weeks, but it all went downhill.
Lewis cared for Arthur, but he was only a child, so he didn't understand the necessities of a goldfish. That left Arthur in a shitty condition. No, quite literally, his bowl was full of shit, and he had to live in it.
How Arthur survived in such conditions was beyond any omniscient presence...
Arthur often slammed his head against the bowl when he saw Walter — the chihuahua. He wondered why Walter could live a free life while Lewis confined him to a garbage site.
On top of the shit show that was Arthur's tank, Lewis would often place his bowl inside his bedroom's dresser, leaving him there for hours, sometimes days.
Today marked Arthur's third week in hell — for him, those days were prolonged. After all, fish perceive time differently than humans. Through all those days of thinking, Arthur decided that today would be different.
Enough was enough.
Lewis grabbed the bowl from his dresser and put it on the coffee table. He turned on the television as he smiled, lowering his head to the murky bowl. "I'll be back from the restroom."
Arthur swam to the bottom of the tank, detritus and all types of disgusting materials grazed him, but he had to maximize his distance. He nodded his tiny head and took in deep breaths, but abruptly he held his mouth closed, swimming towards the top of the bowl and jumping out of it. He flew in the air, flapping his body. He made it so high that he couldn't help but be relieved. He knew a swift death awaited as he plunged to the granite table and banged his head onto it, striking him dead — his body bounced to the fluffy white carpet.
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"Fifteen minutes could save you fifteen percent or more on car insurance," the television expressed.
Arthur lay cold on the floor, somewhat hidden amongst the fluffy white threads of the carpet, his lifeless body no longer moving.
Lewis came out of the bathroom and grabbed the TV remote. He jumped onto the couch, looking at the fishbowl. "... What will we watch?"
The fishbowl was noiseless.
Lewis leaned forward, staring at the fishbowl. For the first time, something odd happened: Arthur wasn't moving around in his fishbowl. He loved doing laps around his tank since it was the only thing he could do, but the fishbowl's water was stable.
Lewis dropped the remote, shuffling his hands in the air as he tried to get up. He grabbed the bowl, looking into the hole, but he couldn't see Arthur. He glanced around at the floor, his eyes scanning every part of the carpet and surrounding furniture, but he couldn't see Arthur.
Arthur was indeed on the carpet, but Lewis's frantic concern made him glance over his lifeless corpse.
Lewis feared he might lose his sanity. If you never had a companion, you'd never understand your own sanity. And at this moment, everything he knew about himself was being burned away, shattered into pieces, and then transformed into nothing. Lewis was nothing without Arthur.
Love doesn't come from actions. It comes from intentions, and Lewis always harbored a deep concern for Arthur, despite how he treated his tank...
"Where are you?" Lewis asked, dropping the bowl. "Arthur!"
The bowl fell to the floor, shattering, the dirty muck spreading over the white carpet, but Lewis stepped over it, his feet bleeding from the shards of glass. Finding Arthur was more important than any temporary pain.
'He left you.' Those words repeated in Lewis's head. He ran forward to his bedroom, stumbling as he did, but he kept on, afraid to stop. Afraid that once he stopped, his friend would be gone. Lewis knew continuing despite the pain would mean Arthur was still with him. He knew...
Inside Lewis's bedroom was a small space with one dresser and a bed.
He panted as he stood in front of his dresser, leaning in and grabbing the dresser's handle — he forced it open. Arthur wasn't in the first drawer.
Sweat trickled down Lewis's hand onto the drawer's handle, dripping onto the floor. The drips were like pins dropping in a silent room.
Lewis tugged the first drawer out of the dresser, letting the drawer hit the wall behind him. He pulled out the second drawer, and still no Arthur. He continued and continued until the dresser was nothing more than a hollow item.
The wall behind him was shattered with drawers inside the holes.
"Arthur," Lewis said, holding his hands on his head as he scraped it.
Lewis knew if Arthur wasn't in the dresser, he had to have been in the living room. He had to.
Walter leaped to the room, standing in front of Lewis and barking at him.
Lewis looked down at Walter, kneeling on the floor and grabbing his head. "Did you eat Arthur, or did father take him?"
"Woof," said the dog.
Lewis pushed the dog out of the way and gaped at the clutter — his lips twitched as he tried to build up the confidence to speak. "Arthur..."
Arthur was on the carpet, long dead, a small piece of him showed on the fuzzy white mat.
Lewis stepped three times towards the fish and grabbed it. He flattened his palm, using his free hand to place Arthur on it. Tears flowed down his face. "... Arthur..."
He was no longer himself. Lewis was dead.
The boy closed his eyes and stood up, limping to the bathroom. He lowered his hand into the toilet, letting his hand touch the toilet water.
Arthur sank to the bottom of the toilet.
The boy cleaned his tears with his arm, his eyes were isolated from joy, not in complete darkness, but they were darkness itself.
"Bye, Arthur," the boy said, gripping the toilet's handle, his fingers fiddled as he hesitated, but he clenched hard enough, pulling the handle down.
Arthur was flushed down the toilet, drifting down the pipes towards the sewage, but the flow intensified as he moved towards the basement pipe system. The water moved him with such speed that the pipes erupted. Water flowed downstream.
Arthur didn't live in a normal area. The area he lived in held a confidential experiment in the basement. The broken pipe, causing him to drift, was directly above the laboratory.
The laboratory had many complex pieces of machinery and countless scientists working, but the most pivotal component was Experiment X, which was held in a cryonics chamber. Experiment X was considered the egg of science because it was a potential seed for a better future.
The laboratory was impenetrable, mantled with the hardest metal. Little did the scientists know that robust metal foraged from an alien planet wouldn't be enough.
The laboratory ceiling tore — a cavity of water squirting onto the machinery.
Flashing red lights beamed the room, warning the scientists about the leak.
The head scientist dropped his water bottle, looking at the leak. He ran towards the leak and pointed at it. "Status check. Status check. Configure the systems now!"
Scientists frantically ran towards the regulation systems. They configured the machinery's operators, trying to combat the issue.
"It's not working!" one of the scientists said. That notion soon transferred to the other scientists; nothing was working.
The laboratory's machinery exploded, electricity flaring in the area.
"For the love of..." one of the scientists fell to his knees. "Please, no!"
There was no chance for the scientists to stop the inevitable. Water filled the laboratory, trashing the scientists around like a tsunami. Because the flow was uncontrolled, almost like something was regulating it, there was no chance of survival.
They all drowned in demise.
In the middle of the laboratory was a cryonics chamber — a device to preserve a living organism — Experiment X. The man inside the chamber wore white-fitted clothes and was bald, but because of the machinery malfunctioning, it was halfway open.
Arthur's lifeless body fell onto one of the machinery, but the water flowed towards him, pushing him to the middle of the room and drifting him into the cryonics chamber. He floated into the man's mouth.
The machinery generated 100 quadrillion volts of electricity, touching anything and everything, enough to cause damage to the impenetrable laboratory, but despite that, water continued to trash around. The force of the water and electricity decimated even the impregnable walls and floor.
The laboratory formed many holes, water pouring through them. All the laboratory materials made their way into the different sewage systems, and only after hours of flow did the water stop — no materials except broken flooring and wall were left.
If only the laboratory was fitted with proper protection, it wouldn't have torn, allowing water to squirt into a hole and onto the egg of science...
Far in a sewage tunnel, a man found himself in a metal bed. A man with orange hair and white clothes. He closed his eyes as he rubbed his head in pain. "Where am I?" He crawled out of the metal bed, looking at what he was in. His eyes widened in confusion, staring at a broken metal object with a comfy interior.
The metal bed wasn't a bed but a cryonics chamber.
"Who am I?" he asked, looking down at his palm. He blinked at the sight of his hands, a pale skin. His head throbbed in pain, forcing him to fall to his knees.
His mind raced with information like his brain was computing data.
He stood up, holding his face and whispering, "I'm..." His eyes widened in shock as he said, "I'm Arthur Penfish."
Arthur not only remembered his thoughts, but he also learned about the man in the cryonics chamber. He didn't learn about who Experiment X was, but basic information from him; how to speak, walk, eat, and such functions.
'Run,' a voice said, ringing in Arthur's head as he held it in distress. He listened without question, running forward as he stumbled, his body not used to moving.
Flashlights beamed the area as four men ran towards the broken cryonics chamber; they all carried automatic guns and were dressed in black military gear.
"Go, go, go," one soldier said, pointing forward.
Arthur ran forward, an escape nowhere in sight. His steps splashed against the sewage water as he sprinted, and he knew that if he stopped, his life would be in danger. His instincts told him so.
Footsteps from the military men strengthened, their light shining right behind Arthur.
There wasn't much time left.
'Stop,' the voice in Arthur's head said.
Arthur ignored the voice, continuing to run with no end in sight.
The soldiers caught up, their light shining on Arthur. One of the soldiers yelled, "Don't move!"
Arthur instinctively raised both his hands, turning around and looking at them. "Don't shoot." His breaths slowed, and his hands trembled as he tried his best not to move.
The soldiers pointed their guns at Arthur. Two soldiers kneeled on the floor, focusing on him, ready to shoot, while the other two flanked Arthur, one walking toward his left and the other towards his right.
"Experiment X," a soldier said, the gun's laser sight pointed at Arthur's head. "You are under the jurisdiction of the agency."
Smoke bombs exploded behind the kneeled soldiers. The kneeling soldiers turned and shot into the smoked area.
Something ran in the smoke.
The bullets went through the smoke, but they didn't affect whatever was coming through. Whatever came through, let the bullets hit them — yellowish sparks flaring through the smoke with each impact.
The standing soldiers ignored Arthur, one of them aided by shooting at whatever came through. The soldier who didn't shoot spoke into his communication device. "Order 232, Snail, Snail, Snail!" He quickly joined the shooting soldiers and fired at the smoke.
Arthur tried to run, but the voice in his head shouted, "Don't." Arthur's legs wouldn't move, his neck veins protruding as he tried to move.
The soldiers continued firing at the smoke as four entities emerged. The entities were turtles.
The first turtle to emerge was massive, larger than five humans combined. He held a shield as he ran, blocking all the shots and jumping at the kneeling soldiers, and he shouted an incomprehensible phrase, slamming into them.
Other turtles came out of the smoke, bigger than humans but not as big as the first turtle. A second turtle ran towards the left, while a third ran towards the right. The last turtle was somehow already behind Arthur, grabbing his neck as he got ready to choke him out at any moment.
The second turtle, blades attached to his elbows, cut the soldier down while the third turtle used his dual uzi to shoot the last soldier.
The fourth turtle tightened his grip. "Who are you?"
Arthur closed his eyes, gasping for air. "... I'm Arthur."
The fourth turtle tightened his grip harder, his eyes enlarging. "I'm not here to joke. Are you part of the agency?"
"Agency?" Arthur asked, his facial muscles tightening.
Another entity walked through the dimming smoke; this entity was far more fierce than all the soldiers and turtles combined, not because of his looks, not because of his strength, but because of his utter aura. A dark golden ambiance cloaked the area. All the turtles stopped what they were doing and kneeled down towards the being.
An old humanoid capybara walked out of the smoke, placing his hands behind his back.