Ouroboros

Something Special

As weeks passed, and the day of Coda-9994's departure drew nearer, Dr. James Morris found himself less and less able to sleep at night, partly because of his work and largely because of the elephant in the room. After it was all said and done, he would never see Coda again. That thought alone frightened him, that and the fact that Coda was more likely to die alone on Ouroboros and be replaced with a clone than to live and tell the tale. He wondered how many times the cycle would repeat before he snapped completely. Nevertheless, for Coda's sake, he tried to keep a smile on his face.

One evening, Jim sat in the dinghy, waiting for Coda to complete his task. He watched the whale's headcam livestream from a tablet computer. A steady click-click-click resonated through the speakers as Coda searched his surroundings for the hunting practice lure. Jim knew he wasn't far from it now, and that it would only be a matter of time before he witnessed the whale's sheer prowess as a predator.

He switched his view over to the lure's camera and propelled it away from where Coda was approaching. The clicks grew louder as the whale got closer. He navigated the lure carefully, moving it at the exact highest speed at which it wouldn't make enough noise to alert Coda. Still, the clicks grew louder. A moment later, the shadow of a whale appeared in the distance on the screen. Time to put up a fight, Jim thought. Coda let loose a shriek so loud the speakers cut out, then the camera went black.

He switched the view back to the headcam. Coda had the lure in his jaws and was racing back toward the dinghy. Jim turned the camera off and waited. A few minutes later, Coda leaped clear out of the water right next to him, landing with a heavy splash that nearly capsized the dinghy. Jim sat soaking for a moment, gasping to catch his breath, then said one word into his microphone. "Showoff."

Coda lifted what remained of the lure out of the water and placed it on the dinghy. Jim laughed a little. The metal was flattened like a crushed soda can and perforated with massive holes roughly the diameter of the whale's teeth. At the sound of Jim laughing, Coda buzzed softly and slapped the water with his flukes.

-   Did I do well? –

"You did a real number on this hunk of junk," he chuckled.

-   As opposed to an imaginary number? –

"Smartass," said Jim. "And imaginary numbers are entirely real. They simply don't exist in this dimension."

-   I suppose there's also a dimension where you find me amusing. –

"I think you're hilarious, pal," he assured. "I'm just feeling drained. I don't know if you know, but I've been sleeping under my desk the past few days."

-   Sounds bad for you. Also, you should probably polish your bionic arm before going out in public again. It looks nasty. –

Jim looked down at his artificial hand and wiggled the salt- and scum-crusted fingers. "Could've sworn I..."

-   Go home and take a shower, damnit. And a good long nap. Anything to get yourself looking and feeling better than a dead hagfish. –

Jim wrinkled his nose. "Thanks for that image. And your consideration, I suppose. Unless there's some ulterior motive."

-   I simply wanted to finish filling Amelia Sullman's computer storage with badly edited pornography. –

He raised his eyebrows.

-   I'm kidding. –

Jim drove the dinghy back to the dock. Coda followed him all the way, drifting silently alongside the vessel. Though Jim knew there was a great deal going on inside that massive head, the whale looked deceptively tranquil, almost cloudlike. He imagined what it would be like to swim beside Coda in the deep, with no one else to see and only curiosity to guide them.