Waters of Eden

It had always been known that there was something special about the aquarium. Whether it be in the way the light fractured as it tumbled through the water, casting a miracle of colors and patterns on the wall behind the glass, or in the way the fish, normal upon arrival, once in the aquarium, grew to untold sizes, their scales becoming deep and vibrant, their bodies gliding through the blooming sea grass with a newfound passion for life. These things were well observed but never discussed. Even the staff, once they had dipped a hand in the liquid blue, grew happier, luckier, and more successful. But what was truly of miraculous nature, was what came of the waters after the explosion of worlds.

The war, nuclear in nature, only lasted a few days, but its reaches were all-encompassing. Or nearly. What was left of this world: an aquarium, nestled peacefully in the charred face of a city. The years passed like this. The only life: that which fed and flourished in the waters. The nuclear winter was harsh, but the darkness was held at bay by the light which that water had captured and now held, feeding the grasses and sea plants that swayed and danced in it. Ash, dust, and death swirled around, but the aquarium knew nothing but water, light, and life.

And in this haven, a new growth began. The first creature to leave, green and gilled, yet learning to breathe the poison air, crawled from the top of the aquarium. She advanced, confident yet cautious, as her webbed fingers pulled her slippery chest over the lip of the glass, her eyes cast inquisitively at a sky observed for the first time in decades without the lens of the tank’s surface -it was yellow and brown, the choked clouds, a harsh red, the ground beneath, scorched. She could not tell if it was beautiful or horrifying.

Beneath and around her, those who had dwelt their whole lives with her now froze to witness with dread and anticipation, as the creature continued her advancement. Gravity, a nonevent in the underwaters, took hold of her all at once as she leaned further and further over the edge, expecting herself to float out across the land as she always had.

She fell.

A gurgling scream, the first sound she had ever uttered into air, echoed uselessly across the barren land. Her body struck the ground, her arms and finned tail flopping as the dirt clumped on her moist skin. Pain, which moments before had been an impossibility, became her entire world all at once. Her death, the first since the explosion of worlds, was fast yet agonizing to the onlookers from behind the glass. The watery world held its breath for days. And for many years, the edge of the aquarium lost all allure.

For many years, but not forever. Her skeleton, long buried in ash and dust, became more of a folktale than a reality in the minds of the inhabitants, who had grown in both physical form, intelligence, and restlessness. Soon enough, the world outside became an irresistible temptation.

The next to venture to the edge was more wary than the first. His long, tentacled legs reached into the air above him. He spent weeks edging himself closer to the rim, until one night, he spent the entire passing of the moon with his four wide eyes peering above the water at the frozen stars, an indescribable feeling pounding through each of his hearts. There was a sadness in the water the day he dangled one of his eight, rubbery legs over the edge of the tank, his fingers, no longer webbed, clasping the rim.

He had been practicing breathing the air, and although it felt like an intruder in his chest, he knew he could survive on it. Unlike the first, he noted the odd pull of the ground beneath him, and he gripped tight to the edge of the tank, his tentacles suctioning to the outside of the glass as he lowered himself awkwardly toward the ground. He turned his head, leaving his world behind him as his body spread in an array of tentacles across the ground. The only thing stronger than the terror and discomfort he felt in this place was the overpowering drive to keep going. And to this he obeyed, moving forward, the glow of the glass haven becoming nothing more than a dream of better times.

The rest would follow him, for, in this, they had no choice. They would all, some slower than others, venture across the diseased face of the Earth, growing mistrustful, angry, and exhausted as they searched for something. What, they did not know. Their bodies would become strong as their minds grew callous. Some of them would die. Some of them would wish they would die. And some of them would live. And their offspring would live. And all memory of the aquarium would fade with the passing of generations.

She would crack and crumble her waters seeping from her, turning to sludge as they mixed with the Earth below, her sanctuary consumed by the bludgeoning of the sun outside and the loneliness within.

Yet, on the rare occasion of rest, when their minds were soft as they had once been, she would come to them in the warm tickle of a dream, and they would wake with a curious smile, thankful for something they could not remember but that had momentarily consumed them. Within that instant, the wearisome sensation of reality would give way to bliss. With a sigh, they would rise to meet the day, hardening their hearts against this yearning. Secretly though, every night, they could not wait for that dream to call them home, even if only for a moment.