Novo Cetus

Chapter One

Chapter One

Whales lob-tailed nervously at the surface. Elders sensed a storm brewing above the waterline. A score of sperm whale headed leeward.

For days, the pod skirted a weather front that churned up small fish, crab and shrimp from the deep waters, which in turn, produced hundreds of squid to eat. During this feasting time, a mother sperm whale taught her calf to dive deep. The sensation created as his ribcage condensed and his lungs flattened startled him. He entered the midnight zone, the depth where light no longer shone, and the total darkness felt empty and cold. In contrast, he was thrilled as he powered through the surface and felt the dry, warm air on his cold, wet skin.

The hurricane edged closer and the matriarch Gray, named for her smooth gray dorsal, drove her family out to sea. She watched the mother, named Hope, prod her new calf to keep up. Hope delivered the only calf to survive this birthing season. Marauding tribes of killer whales were relentless and picked off all the family's new ones. Years ago, Hope had been an "only" as well. She survived through a season of violent storms - one after another, each storm snatching a baby. The clan saw balance in Hope's delivery of this lone, surviving calf. They looked forward to the meaning this would have for their clan.

With no other calves to nurture and teach, every mama fostered him. They amused him with their name-stories. Each tale carried a warning or a celebration born from the experience of the individual. His favorite stories boasted epic battles with giant squid of the deep that flared many colors, from the angry warning-red of the morning sky to the putrid-purple of dying flesh. These clashes left many clan members scarred deep with pockmarks from the beast's serrated suckers and yawning gashes from clawed tentacles that tore away flesh.

The front edge of the storm produced huge waves that rolled over Hope and her calf. Scared, the calf swam erratically - randomly clicking. Hope pushed and prompted her baby away from the approaching storm. He became confused as the murky top-water boiled and the storm swept over them. Hope dove to avoid a swell poised to slam into her. She clicked a dive command - and dove.

Disoriented, the calf lost track of his mother. The colder saltier water, upwelled by the hurricane, tricked him - his senses telling him he was deep when in fact he was not. The water roiled around him, and he somersaulted through the storm surge.

Fighting exhaustion, punishing waves in the eye-wall of the storm shoved him underwater. He remembered the game he played with his mother and powered to the surface. Instead of breaking through the top-water into the warm and dry, the hurricane's strong winds and driving rain slammed him back underwater. Determined, he raced to the surface, never feeling the warm, but always getting air. The storm moved on and towed the little one along with it.

The calf tried to stay alive in the violent storm. He was well fed and well taken care of before he went lost. Everything he learned with his clan had seemed like a game, but now he used his games to stay alive. He remembered the story one mama told of her brother who went missing for a while. The brother was young and only suckled. The brother returned weak, eyes sucked back into his head and his smooth youthful flesh furrowed and sagging. The brother had not thought to eat the fish while he was lost. The mama cried when she realized he had not learned from the games he'd played, like the fish game - taking the fish into his mouth and swallowing great gulps, holding still to feel the fish wiggle and flop all the way down. She grieved still, because brother had not lived many seasons after his return home. This lost calf had learned the lesson of the fish game - he would die of thirst if he did not eat the fish.

Meanwhile Hope's survival instinct took over as the storm raged around her. The hurricane churned the water to a tenebrous soup. She questioned whether she'd practiced a blind swim with her calf. She made as much noise as she could, hoping he would hear her over the clamor of the thunder and crashing waves. She moved away from the storm at a pace her baby could keep up with. It was a long underwater swim through muddy water. As soon as the sea cleared, she headed toward the surface. He loves this game, she thought. She broke the surface and felt the dry on her wet skin. She turned to see him fly up out of the water. It never happened, and her heart sank.

Hope found her clan far from the storm's path. Her sisters happily nudged her; thankful tributes of her survival joyously clicked throughout her family. The happy clicks and boings trailed off as they realized she was alone. Like a thick fog, sadness rolled over the pod. Heartbroken leviathans launched their bodies toward the surface, breached the top-water and then crashed back into the sea. Gray knew the rhythm of the water. She called on the clan to search for the lost calf. Several whales followed Gray and the current, while others followed Hope as she headed back into the storm. Adults and adolescents fanned out in search of the lost calf. The sea was thick and gloomy from the tropical storm. Gray knew her clan's sonic clicks would fall a short distance, pushed deep by the heavy water. For several days, they sifted through the dense sea. Their haunting coda echoed for miles as the clan called out for their lost little one. Days of searching produced nothing. Gray and her tribe circled around and joined Hope and her group; their quest was over. This season's only calf was gone.

Hope continued her search alone. She knew the routine of her pod - where they would head when the water turned colder. Previously, she and the others hunted for the calf where he should have been, so she headed in a direction he should not have gone. Against the current, she swam clicking a mother's coda.

The tribe prepared to celebrate the life of the little one they'd lost. Generations of loss - the strong to whalers, the weak to predators and the environment - resulted in a culture that celebrated the lives of those who passed on. A joyous celebration of the bold and confident calf replaced the sadness displayed when they discovered he was missing.

The clan focused their sonar. At the intersection of this sonic convergence appeared the playful image of the calf as he corkscrewed up to the surface and exploded into the warm dry topside. The broadcasted image of the small whale playfully lob tailing and breaching brought high praise and loving comments from the clan. Many shared stories of his life and his disappearance. His time would be archived and re-counted for generations as a cautionary tale.  

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