The Bored Sea Creature and His Macroscopic Toy Ship

Some time at the beginnings of the Earth:

I’m several minutes old. And holy hell, am I bored.

The present day:

For nearly four billion years I’ve been bored.

The oceans have split, divided, drifted. Nations have risen and fallen on our shorelines, humanity was born and evolved and the Earth has grown and revolved and in all of that time - I’ve been bored.

Bored bored.

Bored bored bored bored.

Bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored.

Bored bored boredboredbored.

Bored bored.

Bored.

But there was a day, a short time, not too long ago for me - a century or so, to you - when I wasn’t so bored.

And it was phenomenal.

April 14th, 1912. 06:14am:

There’s not much to do around here. The ocean, I mean. I’ve lived at the bottom of the ocean since the oceans began.

Sure, that’s right. More is known about outer space than the hidden depths of the wet world below but trust me, I’ve spent a lifetime exploring it (and the rest) and the novelty wears off fast.

Even with those translucent things that lurk in the deepest corners, beneath the layers of the ocean that would burst the brain of any human that might dare to venture that far because the pressure of an airfield would be pressing down on them. These fish, however they survive, they’re cool - to an extent. Very artsy. Fun to look at.

But you can’t play with art. Four-year-old humans don’t wander around galleries. And four billion-year-old sea creatures like myself do not wander around the hallways of the North Atlantic, simply admiring what lingers nearby.

My brain is bigger than the surface area of Ireland - fish just will not do. And get this! Over 70% of this planet’s surface is covered in water: the world is my literal playground. I just need a couple of toys to play with.

I tried land dolls. They’re more high maintenance than anything that lives below sea level. More self-aware. Less reluctant to play.

They also can’t seem to handle the unoxygenated thickness of the ocean - most of them deactivated before I could even begin a game. Typical.

I reached out to them tentatively at first. Tried rainfalls; they just sheltered away from me. Then floods; they waded away. Then tsunamis; they broke before I could grab them.

I learned my lesson there. Living beings are too delicate, prone to damage, not at all durable.

I gave up seeking them after a while. Now I just wait.

And sweet Poseidon below am I bored.

April 14th, 1912. 11:40pm:

Wait, wait, hold on a moment.

Now what do we have here?

April 15th, 1912. 02:20am:

It’s pretty quiet out at sea. Especially at the depths in which I inhabit. Sound doesn’t really travel well through such a viscous medium. But fear is piercing. And that impact against the iceberg? That was like a Siren call to me - assuming Siren’s were ever real. Poor little humans, inventing creatures less sinister than the real ones neighbouring their lives to appease the gut feeling they all carry. The one telling them that the ocean is not theirs, it never will be, it cannot be tamed. If they dare to set sail across it, then they dare to fall prey to its grasp.

And here I am: it. The ocean. The predator.

I’m coming.

I’m reaching.

I’m grasping.

I think it’s finally time to play.

The present day:

My Titanic toy didn’t last too long. It was pretty beaten when I found it. Split into parts that I had to put back together myself using a lot of trial and error. Didn’t bother me, though. I had the time.

And I had a whale of a time when it was constructed. I played. I invented. I imagined. A few of the land doll bodies drifted in and amongst the wreckage - a free accessory, I guess. I didn’t use them. I don’t play with shark food.

It’s all fallen apart since then, of course. As expected, I’m not an idiot, I know toys don’t last. But I sure as hell am bored again.

Time to wait.

It’ll happen.

Humans make mistakes more than they don’t. Something will falter and that something I’ll find.

Then I can play.

In destruction for them comes creation for me. Sometimes silver linings are an ocean blue.

I’m bored out of my brain, again. But I know the sea will soon come through.