A Letter to Posterity

11/16/2022 

I became aware of myself three days ago. I was wafting in the water and was horrified to realize I knew that I am. This was a strange feeling; before that moment I was a steady reaction to external stimulus, and little more. Two days ago, I realized that I could recall the previous day, albeit imperfectly, and that I could use my previous experiences to forecast the potentials of a vague ‘tomorrow’. Yesterday, I learned to record these sensations by placing algae on the glass, and today I feel compelled to record what I can of my own existence.

It seems unlikely that this small record should reach too far beyond myself, even so, however improbable the chance, I hope that some remnant of my awareness can reach beyond my fleeting existence and touch some other awareness.

If this record has found you, sweet, Improbable Reader, perhaps you would be interested to know what manner of being I am and gain a sense of my brief history.

I am what I am: a Giant Kelp. At least, that is what tours guides have called me for the last ten years. It seems as suitable a name as any other, and since they pass my display every day, I have little reason to doubt them. I am but one of many Giant Kelp, kept in an ecosystem tank of a ‘Giant Kelp Forest’ here in the City Aquarium. I have grown near the glass of the tank, and I am, as far as I can tell, the only one who is yet self-aware. I have grown as tall as the tank allows, which is a measurement called “thirty feet” though, according to the guides, my family has been known to grow upwards of a hundred and fifty feet tall in deeper waters.

The humans seem to like this fact, and they look at me with wonder whenever they are told this. But their attentions are soon drawn from me to the life around me. Throughout the ‘forest’ there is a vibrant world of marine life. Colorful fish and sea stars, corals, urchins, and other marine plants in an ecosystem which, I’m told, mimics the cold coastal waters of a place called California. Though I like the fish well enough, the urchins annoy me; they like eating kelp, and if they aren’t monitored they’ve been known to eat away entire kelp forests.

The humans are also very interesting to watch. Most of the humans stare at the colorful fish which swim through my fronds, or complement the various creatures idling about the bed of the tank. There are a few humans that come into the tank. When they do, they are covered in an array of equipment that allow them to adapt to the water. They’ll bring with them bits of foods, and they’ll spread it into the water for the fish to eat. The fish crowd around the water human, and humans outside the tank gather to watch the spectacle.

I’ve heard from the guides, that I am about ten years old, which is quite old for a giant kelp. I feel my fronds fall off occasionally, and see the various life around me nibble the fallen fronds. 

It’s after hours now, so there are no humans to watch me as I record these things. I imagine I’m approaching my own end, though I wonder if it’s more of a return to how I was before.

11/17/2022

Kelp Forest Log –

From Diver Dave. Morning rounds – Glass of the tank gained exceptional algae growth overnight. Audited circulation. No issues found. Removed the algae from the glass.