Chapter No. 40 Harvest of Judgment

Margaret walks along the edge of the converted dolphin-training tank to begin her day of studying the mermaids. She looks forward to the task. In fact, the creatures fill her waking thoughts and she often dreams about them, sometimes even during the day. Her preoccupation imparts a lively bounce to her gate.

When she approaches the training station, Margaret sees two young women in bathing suits sitting on the tank edge talking, occasionally splashing water with their feet and gesturing with their hands. One is a tall lithe blond and the other a shorter woman with long black hair. They appear to be occupying time while they wait for something.

When Margaret approaches, the blond turns to look up at her.

"Hi, Margaret."

Margaret acknowledged the blonde's greeting with a playful tilt of her head and a friendly smile.

Kathy gestured to her partner, a slender raven-haired Mexican American woman in a red bikini with smooth copper skin that glistens under a bright sun. "Mrs. Hauptman, this is Karen Santez. She's been assigned to the mermaid project."

Margaret gave her a polite smile. "Hi."

"Glad to meet you, Mrs. Hauptman. Kathy told me all about you."

"Well," Margaret said with a teasing rise of her right eyebrow. "I hope it's all been good."

Kathy laughed. Karen smiled.

Margaret swiveled her head around. "Where are the mermaids?"

She watched Kathy's face muscles tighten and it gave her a chill.

"Oh, it's . . . like, they're feasting. They like to retire to the tunnel when they eat." Kathy bowed her head. "I'm just as glad that they do. It's not a pretty sight."

"Yes, spare me the grisly details," Margaret said. "It's too bad they don't eat fish."

Kathy's face brightened. "They do!"

"Oh, really?"

"We've stocked this tank with quite a bit of fish. It cuts down on the number of sea otters and seals we have to give them."

Margaret shook her head. "It hurts me, too . . . but we have no choice. Seals are what they eat in the wild." She paused. "But, I had no idea that they eat fish."

"We found out about it by accident," Kathy said. "We keep this tank under constant surveillance and most of what goes on here is recorded."

"How do they catch them?"

Kathy smiled. "You're not going to believe this, but like, they use a net."

"You're kidding!"

"No, I'm not. They made a net out of some cords they snatched from tarpaulins. Really cool."

"I wonder if that's what they do in the wild?"

"Like, you know, it makes sense."

Margaret's smile faded. "Not to change the subject, but how's the training coming?"

"Great," Kathy said, sounding sincere but her face not reinforcing her words. "I was just telling Karen here that we don't use the usual training procedures with mermaids. Instead of showing them what we want, we just tell them. They learn quickly, and they don't need a reward like a dolphin or sea lion." She laughed, but it sounded more like a nervous release. "Actually, it bothers me. These creatures are not animals. I feel awkward trying to make them do tricks. And yet, they seem very eager to please us."

Margaret stared out at the water with a wistful expression. "Fascinating."

"The funny thing about it is that they have individual personalities despite the fact that they look alike. Some, for example, seem to be more aggressive. Others seem shy and withdrawn. It's almost as if we're dealing with people."

"We are," Margaret said. "They're sentient beings and they've been around a very long time, much longer than we have. They must be treated with respect . . . despite their strange, and sometimes disgusting, habits."

"Like, if they're intelligent, why did they allow themselves to be captured?"

"That's a good question. It may have something to do with the fact that they're facing extinction. Or, perhaps, they've decided to make contact with us. We're not really sure."

"Maybe they're studying us," Kathy proposed. "Maybe they're trying to determine if we're worth making contact with."

"That's a possibility."

Kathy's expression turned somber. "I asked them if they fight one another, and they said that they don't. They have mediators who prevent arguments from getting out of control."

Karen smiled. "Shit. They're smarter than humans."

All three smiled.

"Are you able to identify them?" Margaret asked.

Kathy's eyes twittered. "What do you mean?"

"You said that they have different personalities. Right?"

"Yeah."

"Can you differentiate them by appearance?"

That brought a confident smile to Kathy's face. "We've gone beyond that; we've named them."

"Oh, Really?"

"Yeah. We call the Galapagos male Isaiah, the female Jeremiah, and the juvenile Zephaniah."

"Those are all male names," Margaret said.

"I know," Kathy said. "Since they all look alike . . . Like, who's going to know?"

"What do you call the Micronesia mermaids?"

Karen gestured at imaginary objects. "The male is Michael, the females are Gabriel and Sariel, the adolescent is Raquel, the Juvenile Raphael, and the two infants are Uriel and Remiel."

"Someone knows the bible," Margaret said with a reassuring smile.

"Yeah," Kathy said, giggling. "Someone suggested naming them after the Valkyrie."

"That makes sense," Margaret said. "They sure as hell sing like them."

Kathy and Karen laughed, but their laughter was cautious.

A few moments of silence passed while Margaret's eyes scanned the water for a sign of activity. She also searched her mind's eye for images of the mermaids.

But that wasn't the only thing bothering her. She had nothing in common with the two trainers. They're young and eager, their instincts not fully developed. She needed something that would pique their interest.

"Have they tried to lick you?" asked Margaret, fully knowing the answer.

Kathy's eyes widened. "Have they ever! One of them wrapped its tongue around my wrist. I thought it was going to bite me."

That brought a sly smile to Margaret's lips. "That's a male. Their prehensile tongue functions as a copulatory organ."

Both Kathy and Karen gasped.

"Oh, my!" Kathy said with an ornery grin. "That's one hell of an organ."

All three women laughed.

Two slithering shadows appeared under the surface. The shadows circled around for a few moments and then moved toward the humans. The Galapagos male and a Micronesia female surfaced. The male boldly moved closer; the female stayed back, appearing shy and edgy.

"Hi Mar-ga-reet! Hi Kath-ee! Hi Kar-en!" the male sang.

"Hi Isaiah! Hi Sariel!" Margaret and Kathy sang.

Karen tilted her head and flashed a cautious smile. "Hi." The alien face showed no emotion and it disturbed her. She respected the creature's latent power despite its being encased in a feminine package.

"What's on the schedule today?" Margaret asked.

"Well," Kathy said. "We'd like to see if we could integrate the Micronesia mermaids with the Galapagos group. The Micronesia individuals seem more cautious and withdrawn."

Margaret smiled. "Maybe, I can help."

"I hope so." Kathy sighed. "This whole business is beginning to get to me. I got a . . . like, I guess you could consider it a threatening call last night. Some nut gave me this crap about interfering with nature and stuff like that."

Margaret's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Yeah. I've gotten a few other calls like that."

Margaret pulled a cell phone from her bag and punched up the Institute's security number. "This is Margaret Hauptman. Is Mr. Willis there." Her eyes shifted back and forth for a few seconds. "Yes. Kathy Tuller just told me that she got a threatening call last night." Her eyes darted around with much more agitation. "Uh, huh . . . Very well. Bye." She turned to Kathy. "They're going to put a surveillance device on your line. The next time someone calls, they'll be able to trace it."

"Can't they just use Caller ID?" Karen asked.

"That can be easily defeated," Margaret said. "The surveillance device is better."

Kathy turned away. She enjoyed her work on the mermaid project, but there were aspects of it that disturbed her. Margaret sensed her ambivalence. "Maybe you should take some time off, Kathy. Your involvement in this project places you in certain amount of jeopardy. I don't think anyone would question your decision under the circumstances."

Kathy stared at Margaret with an expression that oozed with resolve. "I would never let those idiots scare me away. This is the greatest opportunity of my life. I wouldn't miss it for anything."

Margaret didn't smile; She swallowed hard.

"Mar-ga-reet!" the male intoned, raising its hand like a student. "May I see your com-mun-i-ca-tion de-vice, please?"

Margaret stared at him for a few seconds and then handed it to him. He turned it around and examined it closely before he commented. "This is made from hy-dro-car-bon base?"

"Yes. We call it plastic."

"We have seen much of this plas-tic. Why do you throw it in the sea?"

Margaret's jaw tightened. "Because we're stupid."

The alien face stared at her with no obvious reaction. Its eyes seemed to penetrate right into her soul, an unnerving experience at best.

###

Tyler House is not your usual liquor establishment. For starters, the building housing it was once a Victorian-style mansion that had been a well-known house of ill repute. Once inside the double teak doors, a patron finds a large room replete with plush leather couches, chairs, and a polished walnut bar that looks like a throwback to a nineteenth century roadhouse right down to two brass spittoons and an ornate brass foot rail. Above the bar a large painting depicts a typical bawdyhouse parlor scene with hussies decked out in their finery hobnobbing with the gentrified locals. A pianist provides a constant background of light classical and jazz. Not your usual California fare but the regulars think it's cool.

Marineland of San Diego trainers and Institute scientists make up the regulars, but the two groups seldom mix. That was the way it used to be, but this is now, and the new alliance of the two institutions has changed all that. A mutual interest has united the two groups in a way that could never have happened under normal circumstances.

These days, normal is not the norm.

"Is that Margaret Hauptman over there?" a young man with long bleached locks tied into a ponytail asked.

Kathy smiled briefly. "Yeah, that's her."

The young man took a sip of his Chivas Regal, brushing a well-tanned hand through his wavy hair. "I heard she was a hard case."

"Nah, she's ok. She just believes in a work ethic."

"I'll say," Karen said. "We spend a lot of extra hours on this project."

"Yeah," Kathy said, "Like, we don't have much time for socializing."

"Wouldn't make any difference," Karen said. "The rest of the trainers avoid us like we have the plague."

Kathy grinned at the young man sitting next to her. "Except for you, Brice."

Brice returned her grin. "I have a similar problem, but then again, everyone knows why that is."

"What's the matter, Brice? The other male trainers not happy with your . . . your orientation?"

"Let's not go there," Kathy said with a frown.

Brice gave her a shitty grin.

Tiring of sitting alone, Margaret got up and walked over to the threesome's table.

"Hi, Margaret," Kathy said with a beaming smile.

Karen added a subdued smile. Brice tilted his head.

Margaret nodded, but her eyes stayed on the young man.

"This is Brice Nathan," Kathy said, holding her hand over his head. "He trains seals."

"Pleased to meet you." She tilted her head and smiled at him. She glanced at Kathy before turning back to him. "Do you like working with seals?"

"They're a lot of fun." He grinned at both Kathy and Karen. "At least they don't care about your orientation."

Margaret scanned her eyes over all three. "Am I missing something?"

Kathy batted her eyelids. "Brice has had too much to drink, Mrs. Hauptman. He wouldn't know a seal from a sea lion right now."  The two girls laughed, and Brice smiled.

Margaret smiled, but she wasn't sure why she was smiling.

"I notice . . . the other trainers seem to . . . they don't talk to you."

Kathy frowned. "It's the mermaids."

Margaret frowned. "I beg your pardon?"

"The other trainers think we're nuts for working with them."

"Or they're simply jealous."

"That too."

Margaret slowly shook her head. "I don't understand why people are having such a problem with these . . . they're God's creatures just like we are."

"Some people think they're the locusts from the bottomless pit."

All eyes fell on Karen.

"What?" Margaret asked in a weak voice.

"You know: the ones from chapter nine of Revelations." She shifted her eyes around. "I think it's because they're described as having had women's hair and lion's teeth."

"Yeah," Kathy said, "but I thought the locusts had wings and scorpion tails."

"Oh, well," Margaret, said with a wry smile. "People only see what they want to see."

Karen sighed. "Shit, people are nuts."

No one refuted that conclusion.

When Joyce Conners saw Eric Hauptman and George Stevens converging on her table, she knew what they would be up to. Oh well. She is the expert on evolution.

"Ok, Conners," George said with a tinge of harassment in his raspy voice. "We've exhausted our theories on how these creatures evolved. Now, it's your turn."

Stevens sat down and motioned for service. Eric had a drink in his hand, and it was obvious that it wasn't his first.

Eric laughed. "Hell, we don't have theories--only guesses."

"That's all a theory is: an educated guess, especially when it comes to evolution. There's very little to go on." She took note of their inquisitive expressions. "As you two smart guys know, the precursors to the archaeocetes evolved from mammals of insectivore-creodont form in the late Cretaceous and early Paleocene periods--about one hundred million years ago. Some believe that cetaceans evolved from artiodactyls."

"Artiodactyls?" Stevens said. "They're hoofed animals with even number of toes. How did cetaceans come from them?"

"The bones of early aquatic whales, such as the Rodhocetus, resemble those of ancient Pakicetids, which were about the size of a wolf. Artiodactyls include the hippopotamuse, which share at least four genetic elements with modern whales. They may be close relatives to Pakicetid whales, one of the earliest, which lived near shore because they hadn't developed the ability to drink seawater as yet."

"I thought that the archaeocetes were of heterodont form," Eric said. "Their anterior teeth are different than their posterior and the milk teeth of the young are replaced with permanent adult teeth."

"These creatures resemble the odontocetes," George said. "They're homodont. They have teeth of uniform shape and their young have no milk teeth."

"Ok, you two." Conners slowly shook her head. "I know that some scientists don't accept the theory that the modern cetaceans evolved from the archaeocetes, but it doesn't matter. These creatures aren't mammals . . . at least they aren't in their present form."

"You think they evolved from mammals, don't you?" Eric said.

"I don't know what . . . all I know is that the early mammals were forced to live in hiding, only venturing out at night. Some obviously found a refuge in the sea and they quickly adapted to an aquatic way of life. Appendages were replaced with fins and they gradually evolved into more streamlined forms."

"But, that doesn't explain these creatures," Stevens said.

"I'm getting to that," she said with a frown. "Sharks, which date back to the Devonian period, were well established and dominant by the Paleocene. Evidently, one branch from the precursor to the archeocetes chose to inhabit harbors, shoals, and inlets. They took refuge in the water to avoid the land reptiles and clung to rocks and cliffs to avoid the sharks. They spent equal time in and out of the water. They swam fast and maneuvered well underwater and, at the same time, they had no need to run on land. Their inferior limbs became unnecessary and were replaced by flukes as in the case of the cetaceans. On the other hand, their superior extremities were useful for clinging to rocks. They evolved prehensile hands just like anthropoids."

"Or they may represent an example of convergent evolution," Eric said.

"Possibly. We've seen other examples of two groups with similar characteristics evolving independently. There's really no way to determine that premise . . . at least not yet."

"What I don't understand," Stevens said, "is why their hand resembles that of modern man, and yet everything else in their anterior anatomy is unlike anything else known to biology. What the hell species did they come from?"

Conners shook her head gently. "I know it doesn't make sense, but I believe that this creature represents a missing link to something that became extinct long ago. In fact, I think that this species was doing art and music when the amphipithecus was just getting started."

"Boy, I sure would like to know what that missing link was like," Eric said.

"Maybe we'll get lucky," she said, "and the paleontologists will find their bones. My guess is that they'll find them in those underwater caverns like the one you found the creatures in." She smiled. "Let's face it, biology is still in a hunting and gathering mode."

"Amen to that."

"Ok," Stevens teased her. "If you're so smart, tell us how they developed their genitalia."
She stuck her tongue out at him. "Like this."

They laughed, and she left them have their fun.

"Are you telling jokes again, Dear?"

Eric turned to behold his wife approaching from behind him. "Don't blame me. It's George here." He pointed at Stevens.

"Not me!" Stevens exclaimed. "I can't tell a good joke to save my life."

"Amen to that."

"Don't let them buffalo you," Conners said. "We were discussing the evolution of the creatures."

Margaret plopped down and sighed. "Shit. I always miss the good discussions."

"You didn't miss much. What we know about their evolution would fit in a thimble."

"Speaking of the creatures," Margaret said, her face taking on a gloomy cast. "I was over there talking to Kathy and Karen and . . . well, they're depressed."

"Why?" her husband asked, his own face becoming gloomy. "I would think that they would be thrilled about working with the creatures."

Margaret shook her head. "The other trainers won't socialize with them."

"That's ridiculous," Conners said in calm tones, but her eyes radiated disgust. "People are nuts."

A quick smile passed over Margaret's lips. "That was our conclusion."

"This whole business has taken on a macabre flavor," Eric said in somber tones." He rubbed his neck. "I don't like this one bit. It's crazy."

Margaret rubbed his back. "I think you and I should head on home."

He stared at her with glassy eyes for a moment before he nodded.