Archive for the 'short story' category

shift. a short story from eno. magazine

May 03 2012 Published by under short story

The old winch groaned under the strain of a full net. Captain Willis sighed. A heavy haul was a bad sign.

“Well, that’s the last cast this season, probably the last I’ll ever do.” He had said the same thing the year before.

The net cleared the ship’s deck. It bulged with the unmistakable quiver of a thousand tire-sized jellies, each one a tiny ecosystem. We dumped them into the shaker tray that violently separated the worthless goo from the precious catch.

I grabbed a few jellies to measure before tossing them over the side. They were smaller this year, a good sign. Something was eating them.

I turned back to the shaker. The captain was smiling. At the bottom of the catch bin were eight hollow-eyed shrimp, the largest haul we’d had all week. At current market price, they would cover the repairs to the winch, with a little left over for fuel. We counted sixty-seven hollow-eyes in the Miss Amy’s hold. It had been a very good week.

Interested? Check out the rest of this story in eno.

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The Poisson Moon

Nov 14 2010 Published by under short story

The following is a short setting description I wrote as a back-drop for a longer science fiction story I'm working on based on imagining what the ocean would look like in the future if all fisheries collapse and we continue to find new and novel solutions to the world's problems.

Marshallberg Harbor isn’t the same since the Great Fisheries Collapse of 2031. The ships, some nearly 100 years old, still go out once or twice a week to catch what few shrimp remain. The fishermen, remnants of the last generation that lived off the sea, scrape out a living selling novelty ‘wild-caught earth seafood’ to adventurous tourists that fly in to experience life in the golden age of fishing. The old space port, as run down as the fish house it replaced, once exported seafood by the ton. A Marshallberg shrimp could have been on a restaurant table in Singapore 15 minutes after reaching the dock. Nothing has left Carteret County for over 30 years. The Poisson Moon changed all of that.

No one else really fishes any more, not even recreationally. There just aren’t fish to be caught. The few fishermen left will last only as long as their rusty vessels. The skills no longer exist to repair a wooden hull or fixed a 20th century diesel. We thought that with the Poisson Moon the pressure on the world’s fish stocks would vanish, that the ocean would recover from centuries of abuse. With the Moon sating the demand for volume, a second golden age of fishing could begin, but the Moon had unintended consequences. Now the only large creatures that thrive in our oceans are jellies.

Marine Science has become simpler, at least. With the Poisson Moon regulating the tides – low tides at 0600 and 1800, high tides at 0000 and 1200 – most coastal organisms have adapted to a consistent rhythm. We don’t have to worry about the confounding variables associated with studying what few intertidal animals remain. There are no more wild variations in tidal amplitude, like the now Desert of Fundy used to have, nor secret tide pools that emerge on odd cycles to trap un-expecting creatures. With two moons providing lunar cues and no predators to speak of, the great nighttime migration of bioluminescent jellies to the surface is the most magnificent event on the planet.

The Poisson Moon is always full, always brilliant. There is no such thing as night anymore, just a prolonged twilight that lasts exactly 12.2 hours. The creatures that once cued to a monthly cycle are now gone. Many years ago we wondered what effect the Moon would have on sea turtles and other nesting marine life. Would the hatchlings be able to find the horizon or would they wander around in circles, blinded by the Moon?  The question was moot, since no sea-turtle returned to its nesting beach after we built the Poisson Moon.

The benefits to the human race are undeniable. A new massive satellite, in perfectly controlled orbit, evens out the tides, calms the wildest storms, even gives the Gulf Stream an extra push, making England’s climate just a little pleasanter. Shipping food to the few remaining Pacific islands that lack the resources for a basic space pad is now safe and reliable. There are no sudden storms to drive a ship off course or delay its arrival. The great oil derricks of the deep sea are unconcerned with hurricanes or rouge waves. Our oil supply, like our food supply, is safe, cheap, and reliable. The Poisson Moon is so massive that it even counteracts some of the less desirable aspects of the Earth’s tectonic forces. By delicately manipulating the Moon’s orbit and gravitational field, the massive continental plates are gently calmed. It’s been 18 years since we’ve detected even the tiniest tremor, still longer since the last volcanic eruption.

The biggest changes are within the Moon itself. Physicists, geneticists, and aquaculture experts, all working together to produce the perfect fish – as big as a Bluefin tuna, able to convert phytoplankton into enormous biomass, fast growing and even faster reproducing, and, most importantly, able to thrive in the zero-gravity environment of the Poisson Moon, the largest fish tank ever built. Powered by the sun, with more volume than any earthly ocean, it feeds the world a never-ending supply of fish. From within this unfathomably massive sphere, 800 billion tons of fish are harvested every year. As per international agreement, these fish are delivered, proportional to population, to every nation in the world. The Moon’s monolithic presence in the sky is a reassuring reminder that we will never go hungry again.

Of course there had to be trade-offs, but what could ever be more valuable than the peace and security that the Poisson Moon provides? The world’s fisheries were dead or dying. The whales had gone, the sharks had gone, the billfish were extinct. There’s nothing left but scuttle-crabs, plastivorous trash fish, and jellies, miles and miles of jellies. What good is an ocean of jellies? Sea-level rise, one of the greatest concerns of the 21st century, is now just a footnote in history. The water to fill the Moon had to come from somewhere. Our beaches are calm now, mellowed by the Moon. The ocean is at peace. Sailors no longer fear rough waves or inconsistent winds. Coastal nations, now much larger, no longer face risk of tsunami. As the Earth’s tectonic plates settle into their permanent positions, the last hydrothermal vents will shut down forever. Our planet is, at last, still.

It’s funny, the ancient mariner Jacques Yves Cousteau once opined that “people protect what they love”. The ocean has died and here we stand, beneath a Poisson Moon, sacrificing everything to protect our seafood.

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