Remarkably Bright Creatures(55)

“How could anyone think that was my fault?” Cameron’s voice bursts out. “Maybe someone could have given me a heads-up on the possibility of free-range kraken? And maybe they should put a lock on his tank.”

“Marcellus can undo locks,” Tova points out. “How do you think he left the pump room?”

The boy frowns. He doesn’t have a comeback for that. Instead, he asks, “Why does he do it?”

Tova pauses, considering this. It’s a question she’s asked herself many times, and one for which she doesn’t have a clear answer. She goes with her best guess. “I believe he is bored.”

Cameron shrugs. “I guess it would suck to spend your whole life living in a tiny little tank.”

“Yes,” Tova agrees.

“Especially when you’re so smart.”

“Marcellus is very bright.”

Panic flashes in Cameron’s eyes. “What am I supposed to do if it happens again? If he gets out, I mean. While I’m here cleaning.”

“Leave him alone, of course,” Tova says, because what other response can there be? It won’t do to have the boy wielding a broomstick at the octopus.

“Right. Leave him alone.” Cameron casts a leery look down the hallway, as if Marcellus might be lurking there.

But something nags at Tova. If she’d left the octopus alone when she discovered him under the table in the break room, hopelessly tangled up in electrical cords, what would have become of him? Until tonight’s attempt to leave the building, she would’ve thought Marcellus had enough common sense to avoid such bold stunts, to keep his nightly hijinks to his usual: teasing the seahorses, poking around in the sea cucumber tank for a midnight snack. A sudden dread seeps through her at the thought of Marcellus dying alone, a vague shame at her own inability to prevent it, even if she were working here as normal. After all, he could break out of his enclosure at any hour of the night and find himself in danger in the empty building.

Perhaps letting Marcellus escape the building would be merciful. He could pay Erik a visit, down so deep, on the floor of Puget Sound. The thought feels wildly inappropriate. She can’t help but smile.

The boy tilts his head at her. “What’s so funny?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Come on, Tova. Share with the class.” A tiny sparkle flicks through Cameron’s eyes, good-natured teasing.

“Truly, it was nothing.”

“Nothing is nothing!” Cameron grins at her. He really is a charming young man when he’s not being so insolent. Erik was like that, too; she and Will used to throw their arms up at his attitude, but he was so effortlessly endearing, the kind of person everyone wants to befriend.

An idea springs to her mind.

“Follow me,” she beckons, shuffling back toward the pump room. “I have a plan.”

“A plan? For what?”

“For next time you encounter Marcellus outside his tank.”

“I thought you said I should leave him alone.” Cameron trots along behind her. “Are you going to show me how to capture him?”

She turns back to him. “Not exactly. I’m going to show you how to make friends with him.”

“Friends?” Cameron stops in his tracks. “Seems like a long shot. Scylla the sea monster wasn’t exactly warm and fuzzy with me during our little hangout earlier.”

“Expect the unexpected, dear.” Tova smiles.





Day 1,329 of My Captivity


MUCH OF HUMAN PARLANCE IS NONSENSE, BUT PERHAPS most ludicrous among the rubbish they spew is their tendency to glorify their own foolishness. By this, I mean absurd statements such as: What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him! Or, worse: Ignorance is bliss!

You may object to my rumination on the topic of bliss, considering I am imprisoned in this dreadful place. What would a captive cephalopod know of joy? I will never again know the thrill of a wild hunt in the open sea. I will never bask in a silver shimmer of moonlight as it filters down through the water from an endless midnight sky. I will never copulate.

But I have knowledge. To the extent happiness is possible for a creature like me, it lies in knowledge.

As you already know, I am adept at learning. I have easily solved every puzzle or brainteaser Terry has provided: the locked box with a scallop inside, the small plastic maze with a mussel at the finish. Child’s play, as the humans might say. Then I learned to pop the top of my tank, and how to unlock the pump room door. I learned how to calculate precisely how far I may venture, and for how long, before I begin to suffer The Consequences.

It may not be bliss, if such a thing even exists, but with this knowledge, I have achieved something akin to contentment. Or, perhaps more accurately, a temporary abatement of misery.

Ah, to be a human, for whom bliss can be achieved by mere ignorance! Here, in the kingdom of animals, ignorance is dangerous. The poor herring dropped into the tank lacks any awareness of the shark lurking below. Ask the herring whether what he doesn’t know can hurt him.

But humans can be wounded by their own oblivion, too. They do not see it, but I do. It happens all the time.

Consider, for example, a father and son I witnessed recently, right here in front of my tank. He claps the adolescent on the back as they talk of an upcoming sports match. The father is certain the son will prevail, telling the young one, You’ve got my throwing arm, and I was an all-state quarterback. I do not know what a quarterback is, but I can tell you this: the boy has no genetic relationship with the man. The father is a cuckold. One of my favorite human words, I must admit.