DARWIN

Thursday, March 15, 2018

I groaned in pain, groaned in despair. Am I dead yet?

I checked. No, I could still hear the waves and the endless chatter and the growl of the engine. No, my stomach continued to churn and froth at every heave-ho of the deck. No, I was still basking in the scents of water and salt and strong sunshine... No, I was still very much alive, which was unfortunate: death, unconsciousness... I would've taken just about anything  to get out of this atrocious heat. Instead, I had to suffer.

Thomas, my swim buddy, was unsympathetic to my torment. That, or he was just ignorant; it was probably the latter with this fool. He prodded my knee with his foot for the sixth or seventh time and said, "Hey, what's the matter with you? Why're you all laid out like that?"

"Let me die." My words were agonized.

"What?"

"Let me die." I said it a little louder, but I don't think he heard me over the boat's droning engine, or the roaring white surf that was rushing by not far from my head  —  I was partially hanging over the side. It was as close as I could get to the deep, cool blue right now: the enclosure was still five minutes off, which was five minutes too long for me.

In the meantime, the sun had boiled the sky white overhead, and was attempting to cook me like an egg in my diving suit and equipment. And it was succeeding  —  I felt dried out as an old prune, and I braced my feet on the deck of the speedboat, trying to push my face down closer to our frothing wake to catch some sea spray—

"Mr. Blakesley, what are you doing?"

I jerked upright to find six of my classmates turning around to stare at me, and chuckle as I came back from the dead. Ms. Scales, my biology teacher, wasn't so amused: she stood beside Ms. Kayla, one of the Water Safari's program coordinators, hands on her hips. I drew my shoulders in, unsuccessfully trying to make myself small.

"Nothing," I said. Had my skin color not been so dark, I probably would've been red as a Charmeleon. "Sorry. I was just hot."

She wasn't impressed. "You'll be in the water in a few minutes," she said loudly over the engine. "Didn't you bring any sunscreen?"

"Yes ma'am." And a lot of f*cking good it's done me. I'd slathered it on the moment we stepped off the bus, but somehow I was still cooking like holiday roast. And I'd bought the cream with the highest SPF available! Summer, I thought as Ms. Kayla continued her spiel. F*cking summer. The stupidest and most awful part of the year, and I was right smack dab in the middle of it, with nowhere to run. Or hide.

I must've accidentally said some of that aloud, because beside me, Thomas tucked his hands into his armpits and curled in on himself a little, snorting loudly. Ms. Scales ignored him, though, probably because snapping at Thomas for every little thing only made you tired, as other teachers had learned the hard way. Generally ignoring him was a lot easier on the blood pressure. 

"All right, guys, we're approaching the enclosure," Ms. Kayla told us. "See those buoys out there? They mark the edges of the Water Safari Zone. Any Pokémon that you find within their boundaries is fair game."

Some of my other classmates leaned out of their seats and over the boat's side to see what she was talking about; I took the chance to ease back again, just as surge of surf splashed the side of my neck, cooling my feverish tan. From here, I could see it: up ahead was a line of bright red buoys the shape and size of beach balls, connected to one other like beads on a string by cords of blue and white rope; there were a ton of them bobbing helplessly on the white-capped waves like a gigantic necklace and enclosing the center of Slateport City's atoll. Inside were even more: these were different colors, and stretched into the distance in long lines, maring routes that we could take once in the Zone. Different Pokémon lay along different buoy lines.

"We get to use all of that?" one of the girls from my class asked. "This whole huge space?"

"Don't worry," Ms. Kayla assured her. "I know it seems daunting, being let loose in a Safari Zone this huge—"

"She means awesome," Thomas muttered.

"—but we've got some very helpful volunteers in place to make sure that everyone stays safe," the woman continued. Glancing out at sea, she smiled. "Ah, look! There's one of them now."

We all turned to look into the glare; shielding my eyes, I spotted a great serpentine form undulating through the waves, threading through the water like string through a length of felt. The coordinator stuck two fingers in her mouth and whistled loudly, and the Pokémon lifted its giant head from the water: a Gyarados, sporting a large red sash around its middle. My classmates chattered excitedly as it swam near, and then shouted and shrieked in astonishment when the Pokémon submerged, passing under our small speedboat and setting us rocking back and forth as it did. Behind us, the line of boats carrying the rest of the sophomore class suffered the same treatment. Ms. Kayla snorted.

"That's Arthur," she told us. "And that's his way of saying hello. Antics aside, you don't need to be afraid when you see him swimming about in the Zone: he's one of our patrol Pokémon, and their job is to make  sure that no potentially dangerous predators have wandered into the enclosure. There'll be others too, and you can spot them easily by the red cords they wear. Look." She pointed out to sea again, just as a small blue island surfaced not far away, spouting water. "That Wailmer over there is Cindy. And... Oh, see those Gorebysses? Needle and Katana."

She indicated other patrol Pokémon in the surrounding waves, most of which were following us to the Zone; a series of sharp whistles brought them to the surface, and they leapt at her outstretched hands as she held Poffins out over the railing. It was a pity that she wasn't on my end of the boat — the jumping patrol Pokémon were throwing a lot of water up on deck, water that could've brought down my raging summer fever if it had splashed anywhere near me.

"These Pokémon are trained for search and rescue," Ms. Kayla continued as a leaping Dewgong snatched a treat out of her hand. "If you need help for any reason, at any time, turn on your flashlight and the nearest patrol Pokémon will bring you to the surface and tow you back to one of the boats. Okay? Everyone remember how to turn on your lights?"

"Darwin!" Ms. Scales snapped.

I sat up straight again, fumbling with my light like the rest of my group. I finally got the damn thing to turn on after hopelessly fooling with it a full minute longer than everyone else; I'd been too busy melting to pay much attention during the equipment and safety demo.

After peering around, Ms. Kayla looked satisfied. "Good," she said. "Looks to me like you're all ready to enter the Zone." She gripped one of the poles rising from the deck. "We're almost there."

Beside me, Thomas snickered again and leaned over. "Man, would you have been this out of it on a field trip to Sinnoh?"

I blinked at him, sweat dripping from my eyelashes. "What?"

"Don't 'what' me, Snowman. I've got an uncle just like you: lives and breathes weather close to absolute zero, but turns into a puddle when the thermometer hits anywhere near fifty degrees."

I tried not to be impressed that he actually knew what "absolute zero" meant. "I'm not from Sinnoh."

"Could've fooled me. You seem like a guy born for a colder climate."

I grunted, miserable. "I'm fine. It'll be better once we're in the water."

"I hope so." He smacked me on the back, nearly putting a dent in my spine. "Because I ain't hangin' around to make sure that you don't go from a solid to a liquid. I may be your swim buddy, but the only thing I'm gonna have eyes for is my new Pokémon. You feel me?"

***

A few minutes later, the boats were parked and we were in the water. Miracle of miracles, I came back to life: with the baking heat banished above several yards of water, for the first time since I stepped out of the AC on the coach I was actually able to concentrate on my surroundings without feeling like my brains were melting straight out of my ears.

I agreed with Ms. Scales: water really was the miracle molecule.

Thomas jabbed my side — even in his scuba-diving equipment and thick goggles, it was impossible to mistake his grin. He gave me a thumbs-up and then pointed a couple of yards away, where some of my other classmates were swimming steadily down a sandy slope, guided along by several Pokémon wrapped in red cords. We went after them, flailing our arms out and looking pretty stupid as we did so. We learned how to swim freshman year, but after that I hadn't really bothered to polish my technique, and I think Thomas was terrible to begin with. Halfway to the entrance of the Zone, a Dewgong with a sash wrapped around her tail met us and pushed us the rest of the way through with her fluke. I couldn't be sure, but I suspected she was laughing at our clumsy form.

But once we passed the threshold, I forgot all about my stupid swimming, and the stupid heat, and my general exhaustion at having agreed to take part in this stupid field trip. An alien world had opened up before me, a huge sunlit basin stretching out to the blue horizon. In the center, a plain of white sand as undisturbed as the surface of the moon. At the outside, the field turned to dunes, carpeted by a forest of underwater flora, bunches of coral, and fans of waving greenery. Large stones furry with sea moss and algae lay piled about in heaps, and crusty formations bristling with tube worms and barnacles lined the top of the slopes, their colors so bright that they looked like flowerbeds at a farmer's market.

And it wasn't just the flora that gave the basin color: the whole place was teeming with Pokémon, with groups of water-types swimming by me, us, in huge sheets and glittering schools. A tailfin brush against my back as a Magikarp drifted behind me, heading with a school of twenty others for the coral. At the seabed, Staryus basked in the sunlight. Luvdiscs and Feebases circled the clusters of reef, darting in and out of the colorful forest. Corphishes burrowed in the sand, and Horseas curled their tails around the stalks of kelp, resisting the pull of the current.

I'd never seen anything like it: I was floating in a natural aquarium, and for a moment I just had to drift there and take it all in. I was amazed that I was actually here, seeing such a thing in real life: me, Darwin Blakesley, who never really went anywhere. Me, who had seen little to nothing outside of Rustboro City, my home town. The feeling was a little surreal.

I basked in awe for a little too long — when I finally broke out of my daze, I realized that Thomas had vanished.  If I could've cursed out loud, I would have — Ms. Scales had told us not to lose sight of our swim buddies or else, and despite her wholesome looks, she was a woman from which you took threats seriously. Refocusing, I scanned the basin, searching for my partner.

Unfortunately, the rest of my class had already descended into the Zone, a crowd of black diving suits that all looked the same. Now I did curse — inwardly — and I kicked my legs, diving into their midst. It was the weirdest sensation, swimming down into the underwater valley: the Zone was so large that it almost felt that I was flying, or swimming through the air.

When I reached the seabed, I came in a little too hot and disturbed a sunbathing Staryu, who promptly spiraled high above me and gave me an irritated look. Thrusting my arms out as though I was making a snow angel, I scanned my classmates as I slowly passed them, searching for Thomas's wide shoulders and long legs. All of them were either searching for Pokémon or approaching their chosen candidates, Safari Balls in hand. Already. But of course they were: the students at Rustboro Trainer High School were not known for playing around. We had people like Sergeant Marshall to thank for that.

But I was going to be the exception to the rule if I wasted my time looking for my swim buddy much longer. An hour and a half, Ms. Scales had said. And then the noon group would be coming in for their chance to complete their assignment. Believe it or not, that actually wasn't a lot of time to track down and catch a water-type, especially since we didn't have our point Pokémon around to help weaken them. That was the frustrating thing about Safari Zones: you had to rely on your wits and stealth to catch your target. Both of which I was lacking, hence my need of every minute possible to focus on my candidate.

Dumb bastard! Where are you? I swore silently as I stroked to the outer confines of the enclosure, following a line of sun-colored buoys bobbing up above that marked this as the Yellow Route. I also kept an eye on where the red buoys were -- Ms. Kayla had expressly forbidden us from venturing past this perimeter. The seascape beyond was a frequent hunting ground for some of Hoenn's more dangerous water-types, she'd said.

I could believe it — as I moved along the Yellow Route, the terrain grew less cheerful, and emptier. The sand remained, but the reef, underwater flora, and Pokémon began to thin out, grading slowly into an empty blue void lined with a white carpet as continental Hoenn approached the true open ocean. I waved my arms out to slow my forward momentum when I spotted huge pits in the seafloor farther afield. Wait, no, not pits — cliffs. The seafloor terminated at a rugged precipice not far ahead, probably where the continental slope began to lead down to the abyssal plain like a stairway.

Still, it wasn't as barren a waste as it sounded — there were patches of seaweed growing up here and there, and a few spiky-looking stones stacked up atop one another nearby looked like Cloysters waiting for unsuspecting prey. To my surprise, there were also three or four Squirtles swimming about, nibbling on the scant sea grass. There was a lot more flora back towards the zone's interior, though — that they preferred to dine out here told me that they weren't looking to be stuffed into a Safari Ball anytime today.

I glanced back up to the surface, to the buoy markers. To my surprise, the yellow line enclosed this point of the zone, straining a little ways past the cliff edge. I supposed that it was a safe place to chase down Pokémon, seeing as we couldn't exactly fall off the precipice. But would Thomas really come out this far...?

Yes, he would — a moment later I spotted him and three of my classmates peeking out from behind a heap of mossy boulders, their sights set on the grazing Squirtles. One of Thomas's electric-blue braids had escaped from his diving hood, differentiating him from the rest. That along with his wide, determined grin, one that said he wasn't going to be leaving the water until he'd caught himself a Squirtle. I couldn't blame him — only a fool would bypass a chance to add a Blastoise to his party. Though I had to wonder if he was capable of getting a Squirtle that far; last I'd heard, his Kecleon needed a lot of work.

Not that my point Pokémon was doing much better.

I shook my head before I could start worrying about that again. One heart-wrenching problem at a time. Today's was actually catching a water-type Pokémon, so that I didn't fall behind or — Arceus help me — flunk out of the Battle Branch. And believe you  me, if you gave him a reason, Sergeant Marshall would take it. Coming back without a water-type Pokémon would be just the thing to make the prick rub his hands with glee.

The problem was, we weren't supposed to stray ten yards away from our swim buddy, so until Thomas caught his stupid Squirtle, I was stuck out here at the edge of the atoll because I actually followed the rules. Stupid idiot... Why didn't he ask me first before he ran off?

But that didn't mean that I was out of options. There were some Pokémon out here on the brink, like the aforementioned Cloysters. And now that I looked, I spotted some Clamperls hiding between the cracks of some of the rocks, a couple of unfriendly-looking Omanytes that went scuttling for the shadows... And, out of the corner of my eye, the scaled body of a Corphish making his way along the edge of the ridge, slowly crawling down the other side.

Jackpot.

Corphish had been one of my prime candidates long before we'd set off on this venture — when Mr. Mason, my homeroom teacher, had announced the upcoming trip to Slateport's underwater Safari Zone, I'd spent a long time researching water-type Pokémon that would be the most beneficial as the second in my lineup. I'd come to the conclusion that the most supportive water-type for my team would be one that could operate on land as easily as they could in water: Corphish, Staryu, Marill, Mudkip, Lotad, and even Spheal. But since Marill, Mudkip, and Lotad were freshwater types, and Spheal could only be found in polar Hoenn (if anyplace in Hoenn can actually be described as polar), Corphish and Staryu were my two best bets. And I didn't see any Staryus around this part of the Zone.

But I could see the Corphish clearly and, more importantly, he couldn't see me — as I began my awkward approach towards him, I found myself descending the from the top of the cliff to deeper level of the seafloor. It was desolate and cold, but sandier than the lip of the precipice above: a carpet of silt wound between lumpy rock formations fuzzy with algae, the only plant life to be found down here. But a striated column of stone up ahead was swathed in something strange, and decidely man-made – as I followed the Corphish closer, I saw that it was a net, a cast-off that had gotten itself snagged around the rock, torn halfway down the middle.

Something about this formation seemed ominous — the water around it appeared dark and unfriendly, an almost reddish brown in the light, like spilt blood. I had no doubt that marine blood had been spilled because of the net — thanks to Ms. Scales, I knew all about the perils of discarded fishing gear and the phenomenon known as "ghost fishing". I wondered how many unsuspecting water-types this net had killed before it had retired to this shallow canyon in the sea floor.

The Corphish scuttled across a piece of the meshwork halfway buried in sand and then began scratching at the base of the boulder, tunneling into a small crevice chiseled into the foot of the column. Soon he was in the sand up to his tail segments, probably making a burrow where he and his mate could lay eggs. He continued his task busily as I moved as quietly as I could over to him.

I was not surprised that he didn't even bother to look up as I grew closer — even though it was part of the Yellow Route, this part of the zone was pretty uninviting, and the Corphish probably thought that the humans wouldn't bother looking over here for a Pokémon. They're probably where all the hotshot Pokémon are, in the basin, he thought. Besides, I'm boring, he thought.

Not to me. I moved slowly, willing myself not to make a sound as I maneuvered into position: with the light falling before me, and my shadow behind. I twisted a Safari Ball from my belt. Just a little closer, and surprise would be my ally, rather than another Pokémon at my command; Ms. Kayla had told us that startled Pokémon were as easy to capture as wounded ones, and so far this Corphish had no idea that I was even there — once I released the capture beam, the shock at being jumped would all but completely incapacitate him. All I had to do was push the button, and—

The Corphish stilled. Then, without explanation, he dove and was gone, disappearing into the sand.

What the— Frustration went off inside like a firecracker; I turned, wishing that I could tear whoever had scared away my target a new one, but there was nothing there, nothing save for sunny water, the cliff face, and rocks. Did the Corphish have a sixth sense for detecting sneaking Pokémon Trainers? Dammit! How did he know I was there? I lifted my hand, wishing I had some free hair to fist– with the way this day was going, my fear of repeating the tenth grade was going to become an ugly reality.

I dug my nails into my scalp instead and sucked in a deep breath of canned air. I estimated that we had less than thirty minutes left to catch our Pokémon — bellyaching wasn't going to make the task any easier, only more unpleasant. Corphish are a dime a dozen; Find another one.

But before I could kick my legs and ascend, a wave of gooseflesh wrinkled my arms and the back of my neck. I froze, confused by the sudden intense fear that worked its way up through my sternum like a burning chill. Heart skipping a beat, I turned, searching for whatever might've caused the sensation. What's happening...? Am I in danger? I had no idea – my body was locking up of its own accord, the reaction completely divorced from my mind. I don't see anything. Just rocks and water, and that net. Nothing to see, and certainly nothing to fear.

Then I felt it. Again; I must have missed it the first time, even if my body hadn't. It moved past me, brushing against my skin: a strong outward ripple, a shift in the water with a force that could have only been made by something close by.

Close by? How close by? I took in the surrounding terrain once more, fearing what I might see that I hadn't before. It took me a moment, but at last, I spotted it at the base of the rock formation, something hidden in shadow and torn netting. Something big. Something hungry.

Something with teeth.

Hundreds of them.

(Ver. 3.0)

--

Ocean Conservancy Facts: Ghost Fishing

According to https://www.ghostfishing.org:

"'Ghost Fishing' is what fishing gear does when it has been lost, dumped, or abandoned. Nets, long lines, fish traps or any man made contraptions designed to catch fish or marine organisms are considered capable of ghost fishing when unattended, and without anyone profiting from the catches, they are affecting already depleted commercial fish stocks. Caught fish die and in turn attract scavengers, which will get caught in the same net, thus creating a vicious circle."

BONUS: Where the hell are they?