the high seas

We are, the stories that we tell our children.

“Mom, why did you tell him that dad’s dead?”

She knew that this day would come soon enough. She’s in her teen years; you can’t shut her up with the story of her dad being lost at sea. Though, quite frankly, that’s the closest thing to the truth.

“Don’t tell me that you still believe that he’ll be back all these years later, do you?”

“It’s not about what I believe. You never lost hope; and now I’m thinking you’re…”

“Not now”, she snapped. She didn’t mean to, but she did. A small price to pay for living in a house with an antsy teen.

“We’ll discuss this later.” She said, more calmly.

She knew that this pot was boiling for quite some time now; they both have been feeling the heat. It’s up to her to make sure that it doesn’t boil over. She made a mental note to do something about this situation. But going there was bad enough for her herself, that she did not linger on what exactly is that she’s gonna do about it. ‘Time will pass’, she thought to herself, not knowing whether it was a good thing or a bad thing.

It was not that the kid didn’t know what happened to her dad, but that his life and career was so blanketed in enigma that she’s not sure of even the things that she knew. 'Even I am not. But the child needs answers; I’ll give her what I can.'

Ephriam did not just work, he was his work; and he was very good at what he did. His dad was a seafarer, and he used to tell stories of how he was brought up at sea, and how the waters were his childhood. That’s how he grew up to be as passionate of a sailor as he was a marine biologist. There was never an adventure too dangerous for him; and he was not a man to jump at the first opportunity of adventure either. He prevailed where others failed because of this preparation and precociousness. He was a man to admire for his methods.

All the strangeness came from the findings of his third Antarctic exploration. He was always concerned of the rapid melting of the sea ice; he always worried that there were untold horrors locked up in that permafrost that humankind shouldn’t mess with. And one day, his worries came true. There were a growing number of strange stories coming out of that region for quite some time then. But they were mostly dismissed as just that, stories. But then, a team of researchers headed down to Ushuaia to interview the locals, and to explore the antarctic waters for any strangeness. The fact they, and the rescue team of members sent from the closest antarctic base, went radio silent for three weeks caused deep concern to the very few who knew of this. The government kept it under wraps, and put together a team to investigate. Ephriam got drafted because of his expertise in the field, and his fame within certain very important circles as Captain Ahab.

“What did he find there?”

“That is something that I do not know to this day.”

“Imagine if we tell the world that the old tales of sea monsters are true; what would that do to people? What we found made us wish that we met with a kraken. There are horrors far worse in our waters, and it is of our own making. Ignorance is the best blanket of safety that I can provide you now”, is what he said. She respected where his heart and mind were in his decision making too much to probe further.

“So, you know nothing of it?”

She snapped back to reality. “As soon as the initial data was sent back, the whole expedition was classified. Noone involved were to speak of its details, not even to their closest family.”

“Why?”

“To prevent mass panic and hysteria. It was too much for the public; something to be dealt with under wraps.”

“Whaddya think happened?”

“I don’t know. While the public facing wing of world governments held immediate meetings to draft plans and stringent policies to reduce, and potentially reverse the damage that we have caused to the planet’s ecology, a small team of experts, led by your father, went on expeditions to study the oceans, to formulate plans, and to put them to action.”

“Is that what he was doing on his ‘trips’ as I was growing up?”

“This air you breathe, and the clean water you drink; you owe it more than you know, to your dad.”

“Did he fix it?”

“Yes.”

“Then why did he leave one day?”

Yes, the question that she was dreading the most. It took her back to the darkest chapter in her life; something she never wished to share, partly because she herself has not made full sense of it yet.

Nine and a half years after its extremely quick set-up, the project finally ended, and all external records of any of it ever happening was thoroughly purged. But he believed that the governments were blindsided by a single win and decided to call it a success, and call it a day. He believed that this win was just the calm before a much worse storm. He grew more and more paranoid about the future his daughter is gonna grow up in, and the thought that the child would be the casualty of his inaction ate away at him. His mental state worsened by the day. He couldn’t eat, sleep, rest… The sea never left him.

One day, she came home to find him crying for help in what little of sleep he got. The meds worked, for a bit; but the thought of mounting trouble did not leave. The fact that the treaties failed, and much of his work was slowly undid did not help either. He was sharp as ever, yes, but had grown far too distant from her, or anyone, to seek help. There was no help for him ashore.

At the end, she had no choice but to let him go. That is the only way she could keep him from dying of incongruence. He loved, and cared; too much; but he was not a person anymore; he became his ideas, his work, and his growing fear of terrible things coming. She still does not know why she did it, to let him leave, and hence doesn’t even have the info to pass judgement of whether she should’ve tried harder. It is a set of deeply disturbing questions she sent off to the sea with him, so that her child could have at least one sane parent.

She replied, “He got so good at his game, that he became the game itself. There was nothing left for you or me there. So, I let him leave, I let him sail.”

There was silence.

“Was I wrong?”

“I don’t know. But I don’t care.”