I spent several days exploring Okaloosa Island at the beginning of October, and snapped a few beach photos—
Chief Explorer’s Log - Entry 344
Our ship landed on the aquatic world of Perlina 7 after approximately eleven months and nine days in space. Our mission directive is more urgent than ever! We must find her—
Dr. Nuria Navigata, a rogue biologist from Earth who holds the only key to saving our planet.
Thirty years ago, she transcribed the songs of the last living mermaids into her own DNA and boldly shifted her existence to their species. Later records indicate that after her pod sisters were killed protecting coral reefs from coastal dredging, the doctor chose to live out her final days in self-imposed exile on Perlina 7.
But with AI nanobots now infecting sixty percent of Earth’s water supply and rendering it toxic on a molecular level, we must find Dr. Navigata and plead with her to teach us the lost language of water. This primal sirenade precedes the evolution of humanity to land-based organisms, and is now the only viable method to halt the total desiccation of our planet—
However, our exploratory expedition on Perlina 7 is impeded by hostile vegetation. Tiny sprite burrs attack our uniforms with lethal spikes that draw blood at first hook. I regret that one ruana was lost in a futile attempt at evading this foliage.
Specimen A: Petite orbular spitecants
Far more deadly is the glow of the shoreline flowers. These petal sand traps allure the unwary gazer, trapping them in a trance even as the wild tide rolls in closer and licks at our heels—
Specimen B: Lunafloria alluria
There are also signs of massive predators roaming this planet, as evidenced by this deep reptilian track—
Specimen C: Serpenticus colossus
We risked contact with a local sentient, but the squawk-based life form was only interested in our ration packs and refused to answer any questions regarding the potential whereabouts of Dr. Navigata.
Specimen D: Gluttonbeak greedicus
The crew’s morale falls low as withering Suncuppers are the first sign of an ominous shift in climate. A cold snap will soon lock this world in an ice shell for two centuries, placing all inhabitants in hibernation and dashing any chance at finding our target before it’s too late—
Specimen E: Seeding Suncuppers
We must find her and beg the wisdom of the last mermaid, who forsook her first form for the freedom of a different element! But I wonder . . . are we too different to understand each other anymore? I must believe our journey across the stars to this strange sky was not utterly in vain.
Specimen F: Heartbeat, Wingform
Cadet Wilby identified the first hint of the doctor’s presence after discovering these freshly molted mermaid scales glistening in the sand:
I’m certain we’ll find her . . . but will Nuria Navigata wish to teach humans the original melody of water after everything they took from her? I may only hope—
*A poem for anyone who ever felt the ancient summoning of that pearlescent call, deep in their DNA—
The Lorelei's Lure
Mermaids
In my thoughts,
Mermaids
In my genes—
Why else then
My thirst
For deep waters
Chilled and glinting,
Aqua-play,
Me in it,
That tumult of light,
Liquefied.
I desire
To swim in the wet skins
Of cloud,
Fresh sky on my tongue,
To wear mist-suspended veils—
Gems melting into oceans,
Me with them,
Melting topaz-silver
Dropping
In winged tears.
I want to fly—
Soar with the waves,
Foam with the breakers,
Even,
Sing with the mermaids.
*Fresh Ink, 52, p. 125. 2021.
Ink miscellany:
Like many others who create and share using Meta platforms, I was blindsided by the proposed October 30th changes that have since been put on hold for now. I’ve never had a pronounced presence on any of these platforms, so it wasn't difficult to deactivate a bunch of my accounts (author profile, YRLR Facebook page, etc.)—and more may be cut later. However, I know this decision is not so easy for creators and business owners whose livelihood is intricately tangled up in Meta accounts.
The overwhelming onslaught of changes in publishing, AI, bot scraping, and consent to use our digital work can feel very demoralizing. I’m forced into a metaphorical corner where I must ask myself—why do I ink? Why bother sharing anything online anymore?
Simply, the story wants telling. So please save this scrap of autumn sunlight I found lying on my lawn, and keep up your scribbling, too!
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