Published in Analog Magazine Jan/Feb 2024
Seattle Institute for Biological Studies
Endangered Species Oral History Project
Nyx: female Humpback Whale
Entry M34-00761 as told to Dr. Denny Adjuk
16 May 2068, 23:00 GMT
You already know the ending—the fading whoops and whistles, the lonely clicks echoing through canyons, the last whale song sinking into bone-rattling dirge. Our ending was never a surprise.
Instead, I will tell you about the beginning. The moment when possibility lay open. What you call “in the beginning,” the humpbacks call “day before yesterday.” For us, it is a moment pregnant with creation but also the kernel containing all destruction.
Before this world we live in, there was the Deep Stillness, a place holding no thing—no reefs, no trenches, no krill nor herring. The Stillness was an infinite ocean of what could be.
Qi-ah, the First One, swam through the Stillness with her daughter, Aan-ah, and that place that was not yet a place felt whole. Existence required no more than this—two hearts connected, adrift in a sea of all that would become.
#
Denny arrived at the Institute early. He and Sarah had spent the morning arguing again, a flood of words that filled his belly like icy saltwater. He had left the house eager to get to the bay, needing to separate from her before they said things that could never be taken back.
A flock of gulls, a smear between water and sky, whirled low in a squeaking mob. Below the birds, Nyx rolled and arched her mass away from a pod of dolphins pestering her. Seawater streamed from the barnacles encrusting her underside. The water around her roiled as the dolphins dodged closer then flitted away.
Denny waved to catch Nyx’s attention, and she rolled her pectoral fin above the surface. The giant blade cut downward into the pod, scattering the dolphins like a starburst. They sang a chorus of complaint before laughing and swimming off. Nyx bent and dove; her dark fluke paused above the surface before slipping underneath.
Denny glanced over his shoulder at the empty building; no one else had arrived for work yet. The Institute’s windows reflected the gray light off clouds breaking the morning sky. A dark storm crawled near the horizon.
A moment later, Nyx breached at the dock. She listed left, and a single eye peered up at him. Denny wiggled with the buzz of their implants reestablishing contact. He pressed the silver disk at the back of his neck; the pressure mitigated the tingle zipping along his spine. Electrical impulses fingered through his temporal lobes, and Denny involuntarily whispered a line of gibberish. Nyx’s thoughts murmured across the membrane. Dolphins ink squid beside pumpkin pie.
Stop, Denny said.
House deep water because of hammer, thought Nyx.
Denny signed the signal for dialogue, waving index fingers back and forth at his lips.
Nyx paused.
The damned phono-semantic software, the program that created the illusion of fluid speech, had slipped its calibration again. He repeated the conceptual pattern to resynchronize it: Queue at five, three, one, he thought. After. The morning. A Seagull. Our swim. Darkness.
He waited for Nyx to complete the reset. She responded: Six, four, two. Under. The bottom. My meeting. Green. A gentle tone signaled the software had calibrated. A visual spilled into Denny’s occipital lobe, flashing the image of pestering dolphins splashing and spitting water.
With the link established, Nyx said, isn’t it funny? Dolphins are the most spiritual beings on the planet but also a bunch of complete assholes.
Denny laughed. They think you’re playing with them. He sat on the dock and let his bare feet dangle toward the water’s surface. He gulped coffee from his thermos, and the scalding liquid burned his tongue.
Nyx swished her tail, and Denny realized she had registered the burn also. Yet another phenomenon the tech department couldn’t explain or fix.
Nothing like pain in the morning, Nyx said.
Denny smiled, unscrewed the thermos top, and blew on the coffee. Part of me must need to suffer.
May I introduce you to a pod of dolphins?
Denny smirked. That’s your cross to bear, my friend.
Nyx let herself sink into the water along the dock. You’re here early, she said.
I gave up trying to sleep. Denny screwed the lid onto the thermos and took a smaller sip.
The dream again?
Yeah. It empties me.
Me too, Nyx said. Can you talk to Tech again?
He had spoken with the Institute’s technology department several times concerning the dream. They suggested Denny had forgotten to disconnect before he left in the afternoon, but it didn’t make sense, and it wasn’t true; he had disconnected. He and Nyx were sharing the dream more often now.
Denny circled a finger around the rim of his cup. They already think I’m crazy.
Nyx resurfaced along the dock. Maybe you are crazy. Maybe you should visit a healer.
Except I’m not crazy, Nyx. You’re having the same dream.
Yes, but I still think it’s your dream, not mine.
He shook his head and laughed. In the dream, we’re always under the fucking water. How is that not your dream?
Nyx clicked and growled the sounds of her laughter, then slipped back beneath the surface. The gulls are back, she said. Probably a school of herring. She flicked her tail to move into the bay. I need breakfast. Come along if you want.
Denny stepped into Karma, the sixteen-foot sailing dinghy tied up to the dock. He had learned to sail after Nyx had complained about the engine noise from the old powerboat. Sailing required more work, but he preferred it—sails luffing, water breaking at the bow. Sailing in the bay made him feel calmer. He needed that this morning.
The fight with Sarah had left him raw. He didn’t want to leave Oregon, leave his work with Nyx. Sarah knew the demands of this job when he’d taken it five years ago. Nothing had changed. Except maybe her.
#
Seattle Institute for Biological Studies
Endangered Species Oral History Project
Nyx: female Humpback Whale
Entry M34-00765 as told to Dr. Denny Adjuk
02 June 2068, 21:00 GMT
Qi-ah—the First One—watched her daughter fin among the stars which Qi-ah had created to light their way. In this starlight, Qi-ah saw that Aan-ah had grown long and sleek and powerful. But lately, Aan-ah had also grown restless.
In that time, only mother and daughter existed within the Deep Stillness. Above them lay the Void, a dark and cold place. Aan-ah skimmed the barrier separating the two worlds with her long fin, leaving ripples of starlight shifting through the Stillness.
“Who’s calling me?” Aan-ah asked her mother. “I hear a voice above.”
“There’s nothing there, Aan-ah. All is here in the Stillness.”
“But it’s there, just above us. Whispers in the Void.” Aan-ha tilted and bent. Without asking permission from her mother, she plunged through the barrier separating the two worlds, slipping gracefully into the Void.
Qi-ah called out, as Aan-ah vanished above her. Soft starlight rippled through circles. Clicks and whoops washed over Qi-ah; her heart raced as she waited for her daughter’s return. She waited. In the Great Stillness, she waited for her daughter. The steady zhuuu-zhuuu-zhuuu of the Great Current filled the space between stars. Qi-ah held her breath, watching and listening.
When Aan-ah fell back from her breach, her radiant body burst downward into the Stillness, snatching light and splashing whistles and moans throughout the cosmos.
Qi-ah’s heart burst with joy. With a mighty tail-thrust, she drove toward her daughter. “Why would you enter the Void?” she asked. “There’s nothing up there for us.”
Aan-ah glided to her mother’s side. “There is something there, mother. Calling to me. But every time I draw closer it pulls farther away.”
Mother and daughter moved in a lolling rhythm through clusters of light. “Our world is here,” said Qi-ha.
Aan-ah moved closer and let her fin touch her mother. “Even now I can hear the voice calling to me.”
Qi-ah knew from that moment that her time with her daughter grew shorter.
#
Karma slipped through the water on a growing breeze. The storm churned closer, but there would be calmer winds inside the bay for a while. When Denny reached the seabirds, he heaved-to, backwinding the jib and setting the tiller to lee. The boat came to rest on the surface over Nyx.
A vibration brought Denny’s attention to his wrist. A message from Sarah: I’m sorry about this morning. We’ll talk tonight. After their fight, she had said I love you. He should have said it back, but a silence, too tight to pry loose, had lodged inside him. The words felt sticky and swollen.
Nyx said, There’s plenty of fish down here. If you haven’t had your breakfast yet, come on down?
No matter how many times you say that joke, it doesn’t get any funnier, Denny said.
Nyx peered from the water and laughed. It amuses me. She moved closer to the boat and let Denny rest his hand on her rostrum. He liked touching her. His arm stretched out like a compass needle, orienting their connection and calming him.
We should talk, said Nyx.
You sound like my wife.
Des Moines, again?
Denny nodded; he had already told Nyx about Sarah’s job offer, and it hadn’t been easy.
Have you told the Institute you’re leaving?
Denny glanced back towards the still-quiet building. We haven’t made a decision, but I’m pretty sure she’s already made up her mind. Her boss is pressuring her for an answer. He reached back and gripped the tiller. They’ve offered her more responsibility, more money. A lot more money.
Nyx rolled beneath the surface. It sounds like our time together is nearing an end.
Denny stomach tightened, coiled and knotted with tension. I made a commitment to the Institute, to you. My place is here.
Your place is with Sarah.
I’m tired. Sarah and I fight all the time now. He reached down to coil the lines in the cockpit. She suggested we live apart, meet for long weekends. But shit like that never works out.
Tell your wife you’re going to Iowa. Take it from someone with no one. You don’t want to be alone.
Denny laughed, but it sounded unconvincing even to himself. You’re not alone, Nyx. You have me. Water lapped against the boat’s hull.
You’re good at avoiding your feelings, Denny.
You wouldn’t understand. Human relationships are complex.
Wow! That’s loaded with speciesism.
Jesus, Nyx. I didn’t mean it like that.
Nyx sank deeper. Denny had managed to piss off everyone he cared for, all before lunchtime.
I’m just saying you don’t know everything between me and Sarah. Light glinted and popped off the bay’s opaque surface. You wouldn’t understand.
You have someone who cares for you. Why would you ever let go? Maybe you’re the one who doesn’t understand human emotion.
You don’t know what I’m feeling.
Neuro translator. Remember?
Bull shit! Denny’s jaw clenched. That’s not the whole picture, and you know it. He didn’t want Nyx to know how helpless he felt.
You’re so wrapped up in fear, said Nyx. You’re paralyzed. She pushed her thoughts deeper into him, letting her words roll out with staccato jabs. Afraid to move, to change, to reach for anything more. What are you so afraid of, Denny?
Fuck you, Sarah.
It took Denny a moment to register what he had said. His face flushed warm as the silence spilled between them.
Nyx said, you’re arguing with the wrong person in the wrong place. You should be talking with your wife. Not me.
Whatever, Nyx. I’m not afraid. I just don’t see any point in changing what’s working. Denny sighed. A long moment passed between them. Sometimes I wish Sarah had a neuro translator, then she’d understand.
Then you’d understand.
There’s that, too.
Nyx said, If I had a Sarah in my life, if I knew there was another whale out there, anywhere, I would’ve been gone yesterday.
Denny shifted. The shore seemed farther away now. A haze softening edges.
I’ve been thinking of leaving, Nyx said.
Leaving?
Leaving the bay. Leaving the Institute.
It’s not safe out there. It was irrational, but Denny pictured the clusters of humpback carcasses, the distended tongues, the dark eye sockets.
Nyx moved closer. The virus is gone, Denny. There isn’t anyone left to spread it.
The virus didn’t kill all of them, not at the end. There are other dangers out there.
I came here to tell our stories, share the humpback’s soul. I didn’t want to see that lost. Nyx whistled a long and gentle sigh. I’ve done that now.
There’s nothing for you out there, Nyx.
Denny felt her react, a pang of loneliness buzzing from spine to gut. Her feeling of loss mixed with his own regret.
I might not find anything, but maybe the point is to look. Create a chance for more.
He sensed the pressure build around her as she sank heavy and deep into the bay.
#
Seattle Institute for Biological Studies
Endangered Species Oral History Project
Nyx: female Humpback Whale
Entry M34-00772 as told to Dr. Denny Adjuk
11 July 2068, 22:30 GMT
This is the story of the Great Mother, Aan-ah, and the creation of the world. My people have held this story since the beginning, passing it from mother to daughter so we may always remember the sacrifice made for us.
One night, Aan-ah seduced Itaruk, the Great Current. As he surged around her, Aan-ah’s fins splayed at her sides, and she pinwheeled gracefully in the heart of Itaruk’s powerful torrent. Itaruk ravished Aan-ah, stealing her heat with streams of stardust pulled from the Stillness.
Aan-ah let herself spin in Itaruk’s powerful current until she felt him lose control and grasp her. In that moment, she bent and reached for the Void, knowing Itaruk would be unable to let go; he would follow her into the hollow place above.
As they slipped into the Void, Itaruk’s current sucked starlight from the Deep Stillness into that place. Aan-ah swam toward the whispering voice, lifting ever higher. The current trailed behind her. At last, she knew the whisper she followed came from within her own breast. Where Aan-ah went, the voice and the light mixed to burst into massive coral reefs, jagged and new. Schools of fish and shoals of krill swirled into existence. Seagrass, Algae, crab, and shark—all life formed and gathered in her wake. Trenches fell and mountains rose. The life-giving air and the creatures living within it formed above them.
Finally, we whales were given life. We became the protectors who traveled that sea-road, following the current and watching after Aan-ah’s creation.
When Aan-ah finished, she witnessed her efforts and rested. This new world, full and heavy, began pulling away.
Below her, long, sad notes spilled from the Deep Stillness. Her mother called to her, and Aan-ah called back. Their two songs reached through the growing distance between them and wrapped together in a forlorn chorus bending around planets and careening past moons. The universe filled with this new song that no one had ever heard.
Later, all the world would recognize this song between mother and daughter as the song of endings and the song of beginnings.
#
As Nyx settled near the bottom she said, Everyone loved retelling Aan-ah’s creation story, especially when we all realized our end was near, that a world without humpbacks looked inevitable. Aan-ah’s story comforted us. It reminded us we were special. We had existed for a reason. Nyx sang a long and deep drone, as if tuning an ancient instrument’s lower register. When the murmur stopped, she said, But I always liked Qi-ah’s story better.
Qi-ah? asked Denny. Mother of the Great Mother?
Yes. Her name means ‘to weep’. My own mother told me Qi-ah’s story before I left the pod. But it didn’t wash over me until I became much older.
A single image from the dream flashed into Denny’s mind: a dark figure bulked in silhouette against a pale blue field. The image fell into him, sank with a weight threatening to drag him toward some unknown bottom. He longed to call Sarah but didn’t know why.
I want to share something new, Denny. An origin story.
Absolutely, Nyx. Let me start the recorder. Denny’s pulse quickened. It had been years since they visited the creation myths.
We don’t have much time, Denny. The storm is moving in sooner than I thought.
We’ll be okay. Let me set up. He bent toward the receiver mounted into Karma’s cockpit. He dialed the settings to transmit the recording back to the Institute. He would transcribe later, when they got back to shore.
“Endangered Species Oral History Project,” he said, labeling the entry. “November 25th, 2071. Greenwich Mean Time 17:15. Nyx: female Humpback.” Denny turned on the transmission wave graphic to confirm the recording. Ready when you are, Nyx. He waited, letting Nyx approach her story in her own time. Finally, the wave graphic lifted with both her thought and whale song.
This is the Song of Qi-ah. In the past, I’ve kept it close, but it’s time to share it. Nyx began to sing in long mournful notes. Daughters. You must hear our song. This is the song of all mothers. The song of Qi-ah, the First One, who watched her own daughter, alive and strong, leave home to create our world. This is the song all mothers come to know. This is a song of goodbye.
On the first day, Qi-ah came upon her daughter Aan-ah giving herself to Itaruk, the Great Current. In silence, she watched with growing sadness; she knew that today, she would lose her child. Qi-ah watched her daughter plunge into the Void, dragging Itaruk the Great Current in her wake. Qi-ah listened to the song of creation. Light surrounded Aan-ah, and a world manifested around her. All life swirled into place.
Beneath her words, Denny sensed Nyx lifting from the bay’s bottom. She moved toward the rocky entry. Whatever had gone wrong with the transmitters now allowed him to know more than just her words. Nyx was leaving.
A heavy buzz at his wrist snapped his attention away from Nyx’s movement. A text from Sarah: We need to talk, Denny. My boss needed an answer this morning. I’m so sorry. I just told him I’d take the position in Iowa.
Denny’s world pulled apart. Nyx was leaving. Sarah was leaving. If he just sat here, closed his eyes and held his breath, maybe it would all snap together. Rain fell onto his face. The weather had changed and he hadn’t seen it coming—or he’d ignored it. The wind blew harder, and whitecaps spread over the water’s surface. Denny released the jib’s sheet from its cleat, and the rope burned through his grip. Pain filled his hands and left tears at his eyes. He didn’t want to be left alone. The wind at the mainsail heeled the boat leeward. Denny moved the tiller off wind and the sloop plunged forward. He had to hold on.
Nyx swam toward the open ocean and continued her story.
Aan-ah called to her mother, but Qi-ah was in awe. She watched her daughter work, and the unfamiliar beauty paralyzed her. The sunlight passed into that world and new colors filled the ocean. Again, Aan-ah called her mother, but Qi-ah felt small beside this new and beautiful creation. A fear rose within Qi-ah, telling her to stay in the Deep Stillness, to hold the familiar. Aan-ah’s world pulled away from the Great Stillness, and the distance between mother and daughter began to grow. Aan-ah called to her mother a third time, and seeing the distance between them explode, fear consumed Qi-ah. Wanting to be with her daughter, she surged toward her, but it was too late. Aan-ha’s world had pulled too far away, become too different.
Qi-ah called to her daughter. Aan-ah called to her mother. Their calls were songs of love and longing.
Nyx broke from the bay. Denny sensed her beneath the surface, swimming beyond the outer buoys. He cut his sails into a close reach and skirted along the wind just behind her.
What are you doing? Nyx said.
Don’t leave.
The storm’s too strong, Denny. Turn around.
He adjusted his heading, backed off the wind just enough to build up speed, letting Karma cut through rain. He wouldn’t be left behind, not again. Dark water swelled with memories—goodbye, Denny—turning to leave—a distant voice—Sarah crying in the dark—warmth fading from sheets—clicks fading through starlight—sunlight slipping through empty rooms—goodbye, goodbye, goodbye. He gripped the tiller, hurtled through barriers. A gust whipped down and across the water, sending rain stinging into his eyes.
He said, After Aan-ah left to create the islands and the reefs and the life in the sea, after her daughter rose above—Qi-ah was left alone, wasn’t she?
Yes.
All this time, we’ve been dreaming about Qi-ah, haven’t we?
Yes. We’ve dreamt it together.
Rain mixed with tears to blur his vision, but he saw the life waiting for him, a life alone. Turn around, Nyx. Please.
Goodbye, Denny.
Karma crashed through water as it cut from the bay’s protective enclosure. Denny eased to port, stopping the bow from pounding the rising waves. The tiller stiffened and the boat skipped sideways. Karma lifted and fell as the violent swells rocked the hull from side to side. He grabbed the gunwale and braced himself as the mast dipped into the sea. Sails filled with water, and Karma careened. Denny tumbled from the cockpit and, for a moment, floated over the water’s surface. The air screamed with wind and rain.
Silence. Cold. The sudden calmness of seawater pulling him toward bottom. He scraped and clawed, fought for the surface. Just as he broke into air, a sharp blow of metal rattled onto his head. The mast struck him again. Muscles went slack; he gagged for air, and the surface slipped away.
I love you, Denny. Sarah waiting in the dark. No more room for silence. He stood and pulled her closer. I love you too, Sarah. Soft light lit the edge of her figure, shining with a phosphorescent blue, reaching through a vast darkness. Sarah’s image faded, melting with the distant clicks of whales. Bop-bop-bop-screee. A mournful call like a finger pulling along a guitar string. I love you, Denny. From the steamy darkness, a mountainous form moved into focus. It hovered beside him, cool but comforting. Whup-whup-whup.
As if waking from a dream, Denny sensed something giant and solid move beneath him, lifting him towards the surface. His lungs burned for air. He kicked and pulled. Light on the surface spread above him. Sarah was leaving. He reached up for her, scrambling to cross the void between them. He had been chasing in the wrong direction.
Denny’s head broke water and he gasped for air. Sarah!
Nyx moved under the mast and righted the boat. Denny grasped for Karma’s gunwale and clambered into the cockpit. Cold seawater sloshed at his feet.
Nyx lifted her head from the water. Denny, are you alright? You almost died.
Denny’s shivered, hugging himself for warmth. The boat dipped and rose on building waves.
Let’s go back to the bay, said Nyx. This was a bad idea.
Nyx had lost something, like a flame had been doused inside her.
Karma shifted, threatening to capsize again. Denny reached for the tiller to steady the boat—to take back control. With his other hand he reached over the water toward Nyx. She moved closer, but the waves thrashing the boat made her approach dangerous. Denny stretched out, a fleeting touch, but enough to ground him.
I’m going back alone, Nyx.
No. You were right. There’s nothing out here.
Then go out and make something, he said. His stomach clinched, hollow and taut. There were no more words between them now, just currents of emotion passing through space.
He shivered in the chill wind as he scrambled to un-cleat the halyard and shorten the main. With sails set, he pushed the tiller off wind and the boat lumbered through waves before picking up speed. Exhausted, he hunched in the protection of Karma’s hull, gripping the tiller and slipping toward shore. The open water roiled with chaos and disruption. The storm hadn’t ended. Not yet. A different world lay ahead. A world without whales. A world without Nyx. Beginnings require endings. On his wrist band, he sent a text to Sarah: I love you, too.
He sensed Nyx at the farthest point of the transmitter’s range. She swam with powerful strokes now, racing through open water. She was happy, her heart pounding. He felt it. The joy. The excitement of not knowing. And in her wake, she carried the past into the future, like currents of starlight pulled into a void. Nyx swam fast and hard and breathless, and as she swam, all around her, a new world of possibilities swirled into existence. It no longer mattered if she was the last whale. She swam like she was the first.
END