Cerulean (One Thousand Blues) (9 page)

“I’m heading to help you, Jesse,” Danny yells. He lowers the sails, then hurries over to the rusty anchor. As the crew focuses on a certain area of the sea, I head to the side to watch. More questions bubble up. Why is their boat out here? What is its purpose? I haven’t seen anyone acquiring food. Having watched the group focus over the last few hours, the journey is clearly not for entertainment either.

I want to question Captain, but I stop myself. Under the waters, such inquiries are forbidden. The Committee considers such questioning a form of insubordination. Instead of answers, one receives infractions, consequences, heightened supervision. Captain claims he believes in a consensus model, but I cannot take the risk of angering him. What if he sends me back to the seas? How would I survive now that I have been stripped of my Skin? When I am alienated from my Pairing?

Maybe when we reach Land… I silently review my growing list of questions.

“Drop the anchor!” Captain calls. Jesse and Danny work together to heave the weighted hunk of metal into the waters, and the boat slowly comes to a stop. “Nicely done.” Captain leaves the steering wheel and looks over the side of the boat onto the water.

A large plastic platform drifts upon the Surface. Large enough for all of us to sit upon, the faded yellow float bobs with the waves.

“Empty again,” Sydney says.

“That’s good. Empty is what we hope to find.” Captain crosses back to the steering wheel. “Mission’s complete, so tonight, we celebrate!”

Danny and Sydney raise the anchor, and the boat begins to move again. Jesse heads over to my side of the vessel. “Only one more night at sea. We’ll be home tomorrow.”

Captain returns to the wheel. My questions pour out. “What is that platform for? What is supposed to be on there?”

Jesse doesn’t speak for a long time. “…Well, um, we sort of—”

“Jesse!” Captain glares at him from across the boat.

“I guess I’m supposed to keep it private. Sorry.” Jesse glances toward the front of the boat, where Captain steers. “Must be hard, leaving your home. I feel responsible for getting you injured.”

I touch the bandage and wince. My wound is still sore and healing. “I might not have survived beneath the water anyway. So many do not.”

Jesse’s eyes grow big. “What happens?”

I whisper, “They commit the Unmentionable. They are just… gone.”

“They don’t tell you what happens—”

“Jesse, go clean the deck. You know the rig needs to be ready when we hit land in the morning.” Captain pulls him aside and seems to lecture him. I cannot make out their words, but Captain stares right into his eyes, and Jesse looks just as serious.

Is it forbidden to discuss the Unmentionable, even above the Surface?

Quickly, before the pain and memories grow too big, I hide them away again. I imagine tucking my grief into an oyster shell, then closing it tightly. The oyster is an amazing creature, protecting itself from harm by converting irritants.

I visualize my hurt and loneliness transforming into the rare and unexpected, like a pearl. If only I had the powers of the oyster.

The slow rocking of the boat, the rhythmic splashes of the water, the balmy warmth of the air—all lull me into the most comfortable trance. I slide my eyelids closed—just for a moment—while I remember the peacefulness of last night’s slumber. I cannot say I miss the isolation of my sleeping pod, where the walls close in and my memories haunt me.

*

The Giants surround the boat, bellowing their song. Their groans and calls echo through the water, and their sounds rise over me. But the music transforms, and the Giants sing in the Universal Language. Their long, slow songs transform into a fast-paced melody, unlike anything I have studied.

“The Giants have followed me!” I toss and turn under the white sheet and jolt awake.

“What a dream that must be! Giants—haven’t heard of them except in library books.” Sydney sits by my side, her arms hugging her knees.

“No, the Giants are the largest of the whales.” I pull myself next to her. “I must have been dreaming of their song.” But the music from my dream—the fast-paced, catchy rhythm—has not stopped.

I look across the boat to where Jesse, Captain, and Danny are gathered in a small circle. Captain moves his fingers move rapidly over a strange object. I walk over and peer closely; he quickly flicks the long strings on it.

Jesse holds a cylinder between his legs and taps it: first with his fingers, then harder, with the bottom of his palm. Danny holds a round object in each hand, shaking each as Jesse taps the cylinder. But it is Captain whom I return to, for his object sings to me, playing the same highs and lows of Whale-song.

“What is it?” I whisper, not wanting to disturb the Human-song.

“This instrument’s a guitar.” Captain stops playing and hands it to me. “You look like you want to give it a try. Just stroke the strings, is all.”

Who would have imagined that humans could make their own song? Why was this abandoned when we went underneath? I rub the…
instrument
… reverently, before running my fingers across the strings. Twangs reverberate, but sound nothing like the song that was playing. I try to stroke the strings faster, then slower, but the pretty melody never appears.

“Stop teasing her.” Jesse turns to me. “You have to learn how to play. There’re chords and different notes and all to memorize before you can make music.”

“I can teach you, if you like.” Captain takes his instrument back.

“What is the purpose of this song?” The whales carry valuable information from afar. The dolphins help us to communicate in a land without air. What is Human-song for?

“The purpose?” Captain smiles. “You underneathers! It ain’t got no purpose besides sounding pretty and helping us pass the time.”

An archaic word comes to mind:
entertainment
. In the A.W., humans spent time and money on creating ways to have fun. Some people’s specialties focused entirely on pleasuring people. In the learning pod, entertainment sounded so strange. But here, listening to Human-song, I finally understand.

“Well? Would you like a lesson?” Captain offers once more.

“I—I think I will just listen.”

They begin playing again, and I let the song roll over me: the ups and downs of the melody, the underlying beat—so similar to my heart—and the voices of everybody singing. Human-song is beautiful.

Danny walks over and pulls Sydney up by her hand. He spins and twirls her to the tune of the song. In the bright light of the moon and the flickering glow of the lanterns, she throws back her head and laughs.

Jesse sets his instrument down, then sits next to me. “Do you like dancing?”

“Dancing?”

He points to Sydney and her partner. “You’re staring at Danny and Syd. I thought you might like dancing.”

Another new word:
dancing
. “We do not have… dancing… in the waters.”

He grins at me. “I get to be your first dance partner?”

“I am not sure how…”

Jesse pulls me to my feet. “Think of the fun I’m going to have teaching you.”

Fun
. Such a powerful word, but so easily tossed around up here, where smiles and laughter and joy seem part of everyday life. Jesse still holds my hand and he begins to move—his feet, his body, his arms—to the beat of the music. At first, I am pulled with him. Later, I watch and mimic his movements.

My body revels in the fast motions. Unable to swim, my muscles have felt cramped and tight. This movement feels so good. Without warning, Jesse spins me outward, then draws me back. I sigh as the song ends, not ready for it to stop.

Jesse leaves me to whisper something in Captain’s ear. Captain pauses the Human-song to stare at Jesse, then he shrugs and begins to stroke the cords once more. The song slows; the melody is more drawn out.

Jesse grabs my hand again, but this time, he rests his other hand along my back, pulling me close. He sways to the soft melody. Jesse still smells of the ocean, of home, and I place my face closer and sniff deeply. His lips lower and brush against my hair.

Our movements remind me of seahorses, swimming in unison with bodies wrapped around one another, and I freeze. The seahorses’ connected swim is their mating ritual. Is this
dancing
a human mating ritual?

My cheeks burn as I pull away. “Thank you for the lesson.”

Jesse stares at me and runs one thumb down my cheek. “My pleasure.”

The sky twinkles and glistens. The moon hangs low. Stars—too many to count—fill the remainder of the vast nighttime space. There are bright stars, twinkly ones, and some almost too dim to see. The moon and the stars, Human-song and dancing—my mind rings with all the wonders this day has held.

I stare long into the night, watching the stars dance across the night with a backdrop of music and laughter and joking.

Questions still plague me. Why would the Authority keep this beauty and joy from us? Why would he deny us the Surface?

13

The next morning, Captain calls, “Let’s get our rig back to shore.”

The boat is sailing home… toward
Land
. I will finally get to see the wonders I have dreamed of. Tingles of excitement run down my arms, then widen to engulf my entire body.

“Li’l mermaid, are you ready for your first trip onto the island?” Captain grins at me.

I am ready—to smell a flower, stick my toes in the sand, look up into the trees—to experience the namesakes of friends and family. I cannot wait to arrive at Land.

I wait at the front of the boat, but see only ocean. Lingering doubts arise as I watch the waters. To leave my home, to say good-bye to the waters…
Am I making the best choice?

But what other option do I have? The Authority would not let me return to my normal way of life, and the monotony of my daily routine was draining me. Besides, I have no one left to return to. Maybe I should embrace this new experience. Perhaps change presents as an unexpected opportunity.

Sydney shouts, “Land-ho! We’re home!”

An island appears, green and lush, surrounded by the cerulean of the seas—my first glimpse of Land.

Soon, Land spreads as far as I can see. As we sail closer, I can make out more details: tall swaying objects rise from the ground (
trees
); golden stretches of sand sit close to the water (
beach
); and people, so many people.

Captain steers the boat next to a wooden landing, while Jesse and Danny lower the anchor. Sydney throws loops of rope across posts on the landing, then jumps over to tighten the knots.

“Good journey.” Captain nods his head at each of the crew.

“Good journey,” echoes back, multiple voices blending together.

“Are you ready?” Jesse takes my hand. “Don’t worry. Our kin are friendly. Besides, I’ll be there to help you.”

Jesse jumps onto the landing, then leans back over, and lifts me over the gap. Once we are securely on the landing, I try to take a step, but I stumble against him. He takes my hand again and wraps his other around my waist. The island people have moved near the landing, crowding the front of the small wooden structure.

Captain and the others have entered the swarm of people. As Jesse steps forward, I hesitate. There are fewer people than live in my sector, but they all look so… enthusiastic. The sea of pink and brown bodies seems so different from the familiar blues of our Skins.

Jesse squeezes my hand. “Don’t worry,” he whispers, then we step forward into the crowd.

“Welcome home, son.” A woman, her long black hair tipped with silver, embraces Jesse in an enormous hug. She looks me up and down, then walks away.

A skinny man, wearing only shorts, pats Jesse across the shoulder. “Welcome home.”

Soon hands are hugging and rubbing and squeezing all around me. Some people approach me, trying to embrace me, but I press closely against Jesse.

“Welcome home!” a female voice shouts.

“Welcome home,” other voices repeat.

Jesse wraps his arm around me, squishing me against him. “Good to see everyone! We are going to get some space. Chey just arrived, after all.”

We pass Captain, but he whispers so fervently to the black-haired woman that he does not even seem to notice us.

The questions begin as we leave the landing, but I want to escape them—leave the crowds, the noise, the chaos. Jesse leads me along a small path that heads away from the landing. The path seems to sway with my initial steps, but Jesse does not allow me to fall.

The sound of the people gradually fades.

I breathe in the aroma of Land: fragrant with a bit of sweet, different from the salty-sunshine smell of the ocean and the stale air of the oxygen-pods.

Plants grow everywhere, creating living walls on either side of us. The soil crunches underneath my bare feet. Sunlight still streams through the green growth and gives the air an emerald sheen.

Jesse points out the names of new things as we walk. There is so much to remember, so much to take in. The path…
trail
… winds its way through unusual plants. I want to stop and look at everything. I pause at a delicate pink growth, stroke its soft velvet…
blossoms
, smell its aroma… so different from the sea.