Pelagic 100
Orwen Albi had pushed his solitary research as far as he could. Now he needed institutional support to advance his efforts.
The Exploration of Marine Intelligence program, or EMI, was an elite field of research, biologists and neuroscientists representing the cream of the crop. Locating mythical Merfolk wasn’t on EMI’s agenda, and for a small timer from The Shallows, cracking into their elite circles was a daunting task—even for those without a reputation for crackpot theories.
But Orwen had done his homework, and knew he had to play the game, at least at first. He reluctantly focused on aquatic mammals—the ‘mundane smarties’, as he saw them—and quickly rose to the top of his field. Credentials in hand, he’d won his way into the program. Once there, he ignored the research instructions they gave him and carved out his own agenda.
He had no concrete evidence that such life even existed, but he had an inkling that something might just be lurking out there, beyond the reach of his meager research capabilities. It was painstaking, dangerous work. Normally such efforts were accomplished in shifts and teams, but he did it all by himself, segment by segment.
He split his efforts between book work and field work, using the written records as leads. And the ancient records did indeed point to civilizations on the outskirts of The Shallows, though such records were spotty, mostly from the land-dwellers’ research, and always to be taken with a grain of salt. The land-dwellers didn’t believe their own eyes and instruments, most of the time, chalking encounters up to errant divers, or even undocumented sea creatures, rather than accept the obvious at face value.
There were some mentions in the Shelfton records as well, early on in the history of technomer-society, when they first set legs down below and began to pattern their lives after the mysterious creatures none knew very well. There were recorded encounters from time to time, but generally speaking it amounted to spotty documentation, documentation that faded out after a sighting or two.
Orwen began to notice patterns in these documents, given the fact that those who’d seen something once or twice must have surely wished to see it again. And yet it seemed as though they, collectively as one, gave up and moved on without further investigation. This was odd in itself, and made him think there was something to do with the beings themselves that caused his own people to lose track. Some form of mind control, unbelievable though it seemed, would make sense in such cases of collective amnesia.
He wondered, too, why these beings didn’t wish for any sort of relations at some higher level. Surely they wanted the leaders of the cities, and the humans that came before them, to be aware of their presence. Otherwise, what was to stop civilization from encroaching on their territory? But then, it occurred to him that such arrangements might also be accomplished through mind control, at least at the level of city planning. And it was a truism that the cities had always remained firmly attached to the continental shelves, on both east coast and west, and rarely if ever ventured much further into the sea. They all had edges off of which merfolk could swim out, but technology was never allowed to spread. A curious fact that he’d never given much thought to, until this scientific wild tuna chase he found himself on.
* * *
The day that Orwen encountered a true mermaid, he’d all but given up on ever seeing one face-to-face. His research having fallen down a black hole, he was wrapping things up and preparing to move on. There was little more to be gleaned from mysterious sightings and vague references, and he had real work to do.
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The reason he’d found himself out to sea that day had little to do with the mermaid research at any rate, but instead was a gathering which had broken up early, leaving him with time on his hands and a wish to stretch his fins a bit before his next bit round of research came to the fore.
He was traveling alone, skirting the bottom of the sea, enjoying the feel of the current on the bare parts of his skin, just north of the dark line. When the creature rose up, he fearfully thought it was predator at first. It appeared so swiftly and silently, he really thought he was done for.
The mermaid was longer than he, with a dark greenish, whip-smooth fin and a face framed in red hair. She took one look at him, and smiled. Actually smiled. Immediately his fears were gone, replaced by a new one.
Please let me remember you, he chanted to himself, feeling foolish for engaging in such fanciful mind-games.
But she smiled more broadly, and shook her head ‘yes’. He felt his words had been understood, though he knew she didn’t speak his language. He also felt, somehow, that she did have the power to erase his recollections, even his whole memory—but would refrain if he promised never to reveal details of their encounter. He found himself agreeing. Not verbally, and yet she understood, and that was that. She turned tail and vanished into The Deep.
* * *
His promise never to reveal the where’s and how’s was unbreakable, but there was nothing forbidding Orwen from documenting his findings in a general way. And he was far from the only merman who was looking into the mysteries of the deep. He approached one of the leaders in his field, Professor Lachlan was his name, to obtain permission to write on the subject. Surprisingly, Lachlan had an even bolder initiative in mind.
“I’m launching a deep-sea expedition to find hard evidence,” Lachlan announced, leaving Orwen stunned. “I’d like you to join me.”
This put Orwen in a difficult position. Given that he’d already had an encounter, he was aware of the general territory of her people, and could easily lead Professor Lachlan in the right direction. His promise to the mermaid bound him, but he wouldn’t lead him astray either. That hardly seemed fair. The third option, opting out altogether, was the safest choice, but left him feeling ill at ease. So he compromised—he would assist, but leave it to the professor to choose the where and how. That way he could participate without breaking his promise.
Hedging his bets, Orwen wrote down every detail he could recall, in case he should run into the more hostile members of her pod. He put the writings someplace he was sure to find, if he forgot everything else, and then set out on the hunt.
They searched in tandem that day, and for several days after, combing the ocean floor in search of vents or other evidence of mer-life. Orwen dutifully followed the professor, but never volunteered any information about where the merfolk might reside. However, even in keeping his secret with great care, they eventually found themselves in the region where he’d met his redhaired beauty. Orwen felt a sinking feeling that he was betraying her, but he could’ve very well lie to the professor, or otherwise attempt to veer him off a path he’d clearly chosen himself.
But Orwen had nothing to be concerned about. For all the searching, overturning just about every stone there was, churning up the seafloor in their efforts, no sign of mer-life was to be found.
What Orwen came to believe later on in the course of his research was that no mer-life could be found unless they willed it to be. It had to be that way, because there was no way the mermaid he’d met had appeared out of nowhere. And they were just about on top of where he’d encountered her, so there should’ve been some evidence.
Orwen felt that there might well have been evidence, right under their fins, but that they were being nudged away from it by the very creatures they sought to engage.
“I don’t suppose we could’ve expected anything more,” the professor said, disappointment clear in his tone. “If they exist at all, it must be far from the city, where they can hide properly.”
Orwen shared the professors disappointment. He’d been hoping to encounter that mermaid again, and perhaps even open a dialogue. But he couldn’t let the professor in on his feelings, nor the fact that they’d been far closer to success than the professor had known.