In the next few years other attempts were made to bring sense into an increasingly mad human situation. With more difficulty and less success, although there were always a few humans who, in their dim way, understood the danger they were all in. Ten years. Twenty years; the long running of waves between one shore and its opposite, the land dwellers hoping to destroy one another. Our cousins the whales did what they could and the seals, who are not large brained and could not understand the urgency, helped a little, so that something came through to the few humans who lived in the very far, very old north, and to a few who for some odd human reason were engaged in digging out earth and making their elaborate, peculiar toys in the equally far south. But not to the many millions who crowded and feared in the cell cities and were not happy with the toys that they had made.
Thus the end came and we, forewarned, were in the deeps. Here and there was breathable unpoisoned air, though some of us died with the humans whom we had tried to protect from themselves. The land died; nothing could live there. And slowly the seas cleared and emptied of any human thing. There are no more of the dark, death-dealing, floating islands today. The waters are ours with their past and their future. We do not mean to leave them. A few humans are left in the two cold ends of our mother but we do not think they can meet. Not yet. Perhaps in a thousand years when the middle barrier of destruction eases a little. We hope so and we are trying to teach the few humans so that by that time they will become more dolphin-minded. Ourselves, going far below, can pass the barrier. We have had to start again to show these humans that they can trust us. If they can be brought to help themselves by understanding, we will tell each group that far away there are other humans, not enemies but infinitely to be loved and cherished. One day perhaps humans will start again knowing that out of the waters, from which they should never have come, helping will always be theirs.
MICHAEL ADDOBATI
Side View of a Circle
The author of this story had just turned eighteen when he wrote it. I would say that is an enviable beginning.
. . . the time was right to begin again.
I reeled about in all directions on the hard, dirt floor. This is where I slept and it was comfortable to me. It was just before I awoke that I felt a cricket in my mouth. The insect must have climbed aboard my decaying teeth and dangling tongue when I was asleep. When I did become fully awake it slipped down my throat and made me choke. I guess I sort of half-chewed it because I had a terrible taste in my mouth. There was also a oaa reeling in my stomach and I didn't feel so good. So I got on my knees, bent over and emptied myself of the unwelcomed breakfast. No one heard my belches and gags though because I was the only one in the shelter. So nobody would have to look at the disgusting puddle I left except me. It was just one more beginning to one more long and tedious day in my life.
Too bad for the naive cricket; it was his last day. He shouldn't have hopped into my mouth. But at least he won't have to worry if the moon will rise or if the sun will sink on schedule. It died too easy. I'll bet it never tried to discover new things. Maybe it never wondered about the not known. I don't know. I wish I did.
The foul air in the cave was less when I stepped out into the fresh air where the sun beat down rays at the opening of my home. I breathed in a lungfull of oxygen and felt better than I was feeling before. Except for the cloth that hung down from my waist. It was made from a lower form of intelligence and was starting to chafe me. It made my thighs itch and I didn't like the feeling so I scratched myself. But I still had to wear it because else it would leave my vulnerable areas unprotected.
My hands help me with my problems many times like scratching. I still have to think often about problems however and mostly I don't come up with an answer. Often I draw myself a circle on the ground with a stick and sit in it and think. It puzzles me that I don't know everything. I'd like to talk to the others of my kind to find out answers, but I can't communicate to them. I wish I knew why everything is a mystery and then maybe I could attack whoever or whatever it is that's stopping me from knowing the solution to all there is to find out. Then I'd be powerful and know everything. But as it is now I only know who I am.
And I know not what I do.
I on mine fly around. High and up and over and under. The seat is always good for a minute.
A minute is my life. Minute after minute I live and sit and not know what went minute before or minute after. Only minute now.
I feel pressure—and go cuck and all is better. Except pigh. Pigh bothers me and don't know why. I start. 3.141. Digital tell me in minute to know answer. I compute no end. Sometimes I hunger and cannot think. Minute go by and I have to start new minute. Minute not very long.
I soar with wind in face fast and make me cry. But seat and bowl wipes my eyes. Seat wipes everything. Seat feeds me. Seat controls that I have no problem. Except pigh. Pigh must be found.
This is all I know for sure. The rest I say is all speculation mostly. It is all mysterious to me about everything. Only twenty of us all flying around doing count on pigh. It goes slowly most often but we have at least something to do. All the others like us are gone far from here away and I don't know where. They left long ago when nothing to do was left. I don't remember why us stayed. Sometimes I think we should have gone too. None of us not sure why we didn't. Maybe might have something to do with Digital. Digital is something I'm not sure about and wish to know more. I think I know though and feel good that it takes care of me and us and makes us fly and count. Why I'm not sure of. Perhaps its wires make us think only minute at a time but that's unknown again and I can't talk to any of the others.
Food was well today. Refined waste fourth generation, I think that I recall that I used to eat things myself and not have Digital do it for me. Not sure. Others eat some too. They must because then they would die. Fly also too like me and work on answer to problem's solution. Digital take blame for that. Not leave us with thing to do only count. Can't think like hour or day or week or month. Bad fast this way. Don't like. Rather do more.
0110100101101. Instruction for electric box under seat. Rain coming must cover and not to get wet. Wet rust. Is bad thing. Bad things not supposed to allow to interfere with mind.
Glass shield cover all us flyers so keep dry and thinking. Electric box is not fond of water. The parts go wrong and bowl crash. Problem take longer to solve then. Box maybe connected somehow to Digital's circuits. It is weird to me sometimes I think why there is a box. Digital's wires I'm almost sure are in the ground because I never see Digital flying or on the ground but it exists somewhere. I know its circuits and wires are powerful and 1 wonder why it can't find answer to the problem itself. Don't know why it controls us up here. Maybe it wants for us to do something else. I wouldn't know what we all would do if we were on the ground. Sometimes it comes fuzzy to me that we didn't used to do anything on the ground before we flew. Unsure why we are flying. Could be to give Digital something to do. I don't think it had much to do on the ground before either.
3.141592. Working hard but slow. Seat is hard but fast. Sometimes bottom hurt so then metal things come out of box and put cushion on. Feel good then. Makes think easier and fast as the seat will go around and round dipping and speeding so as to get sun which is to help me. Sun gives me more strength and clouds aren't good all the time. Then maybe box can't see and that may make two seats into other and in flash are gone. Make more work for all the rest of us. Once in a while I see another seat too and I see the rider sitting like me. I wonder if he or she finds the answer first before me then what will happen? Wish I could find out and talk to one of the others but I don't control the seat. I think we used to talk and touch each other but it's fuzzy again. There used to be a time I remember when we used to do this before we flew but I'm not positive. We don't need to now I guess because we can't die unless we crash and Digital prevents that. It keeps us living and flying.