Liberty

   In loving memory of Bubbles.

Speak! Speak! Speak! I tell myself. Just move and speak, it shouldn’t be that hard. The thing is, it’s very hard. Humans don’t understand anything about anything, especially when it comes to listening. They just do, do, do and talk, talk, talk. Why can't I speak, or laugh, or walk? Why, why, why? I pause to listen to my family as they sit down at a table next to me. Listen! I shriek out furiously. I watch a little human child with short brown hair pick up a rod with buttons, or as I call it, the zapper. The human presses a red button on the zapper and it turns on a device which flashes images across a black surface.

This has been my life ever since I left the Pet Express. I remember that day very well. The day started out unpromising with threatening gray clouds hanging overhead and booming noises sounding from the distance which I recognized as ‘thunder,’ one of the words I picked up from humans while residing at the Pet Express so long. As I waited for my weekly pellet of food, I noticed that my neighbor, Marlin, was doing likewise. Marlin and I go way back, but that’s a story for another time. All that’s important between us is that I’ve known him since I was a little fingerling when I was initially shipped into the Pet Express. After witnessing the death of my neighbor, I was horrified, but Marlin reassured me that my neighbor was taking a nap. Since I was young, I believed him. But as time wore on, I began to know better.

Ever since I hatched from my egg, I’ve known nothing about my parents, but I’ve always accepted Marlin as my father. I knew that he was much older than me, so I believed that he must be just as wise as he was old. He was respected by the rest of the animals at the Pet Express and I always felt a deep admiration for him, too. I also knew that Marlin loved to tease and joke about my thirst for knowledge and ceaseless, pestering voice to know things.

Reminiscing over spilled milk was never going to change the present, so I continued to wait patiently for my pellets. I looked over at Marlin’s container and noticed that his electric blue scales were slowly fading into grey and he talked less and less to me. I shrugged the thought off while I waited and waited and waited. And trust me, the terrible service wasn't even as close to the terrible flavor of the pellet, but I didn’t care: Beggars can’t be choosers. Right?

A human wearing some sort of apparel approaches my small plastic container and unceremoniously puts in a couple or so unappetizing orange pellets. I hungrily nibble the pellets up and begin to swim to the surface, crying out for the human to toss more pellets to me. Of course he didn’t listen. No one does listen to me, well, except Marlin. If it wasn’t for Marlin I probably wouldn’t have made it this far. I curled up into a corner of my cramped container and attempted to get some sleep.

***

Huge. Big. Large. Enormous. Mammoth size fingers poking my container. My eardrums throb and I feel like the world is spinning out of its axis. Why, why do I have to be so harassed when I’m just struggling to live? Why do the weak need to be tussled so greatly? Why, why, why? My head is spinning from dizziness and questions. My container gets picked up and shaken. I’m in a hurricane, I think. No, an earthquake. Is that the right word? Or am I at sea? Yes, I believe that I’m caught in the middle of a stormy sea. I hear voices, loud squealing, protesting, and then I pass out.

***

“It’s dead!”

“No, sweetie. Stop touching the little fellow, he’s just sleeping.”

“Flash, flash!”

“No, no, it’s called a fish.”

“Flashy, flash, flash!”

“No, that’s called lightening.”

“Give me my fishy!”

“Can you wait a little bit, honey? If you let me hold the little fishy I’ll play ‘The Wheels on the Bus’ for you. Deal?”

“Yes, yes, yes!”

I hear buttons click and an unfamiliar sound pour out. What’s the word for this again? I ask weakly. I think it’s called music. I hear a rumbling noise and notice that I’m still moving, but very slightly, like I’m getting rocked. Where am I? I ask. No one bothers to listen.

I swim up to the surface to take a breath of air. I notice that we are moving, but how? I didn’t remember the Pet Express moving. I can’t think straight, so I don’t think at all. The only facts I know is that I am moving, I am lost, I am not at the Pet Express, and Marlin is not with me. Panic rises into me, but I can’t think and don’t want to, cursing my curiosity. Everything goes black again.

***

I arise from my slumber with a dreamy demeanor which suddenly grows into immediate panic. Where am I? That daunting three letter question. Where. Am. I. So final and pitiful, lost and afraid. I despise the sound of those words. The world around me is strange and new, but not in a positive way. There are unfamiliar sounds, humans, colors. Is this really my new home? I think hesitantly, but dare not ask it for fear that someone may hear me and answer yes. But, it can’t be. My home is at the Pet Express where Marlin lives.

I swim around my new place and realize that it’s considerably larger than my previous lodgings. It doesn’t matter, I say, Marlin was with me at the Pet Express which made my heart significantly larger than this place will ever make me be. I view my new surroundings, orange plastic rocks litter the floor, reminding me of the same orange pellets I ate when I last saw Marlin, a green plant is centered and buried in the middle of the rocks, and a simple glass bowl filled with clear water. The thing about the glass bowl and the plastic container is that it’s a cage, a fence, a barrier which prevents me from communicating and voicing my opinion. It doesn’t matter how big or small or pretty or ugly the cage is because it’s still a cage which confines and limits my dreams, hopes, and goals. I want a voice, a life, and chiefly freedom. Is that really too difficult to ask? No one bothers to hear my plea. I swim up to the surface for my first gulp of air in my new location. The air tastes the same. So is it me who has changed? I swim down to the depths of my bowl and continue my former thoughts. I want to break free from these clutches, but I don’t see any possible way to break them without dying in the process. So is there no possible way to be truly free?

I hear pounding footsteps as someone advances toward my bowl. I quickly swim behind my plant and wish to be left alone in order to undertake some further contemplation.

“It’s alright little guy.”

No, it isn’t. I’ve lost everything; my friend, my home, even my old container. But wait, your voice sounds familiar. Who are you?

“I know what you’re thinking.”

No you don’t. But I’m almost certain that you are the human who was in the moving thing with me!

“And I brought you a little surprise.”

A new word. What is that word?

“Here you go.”

I hear a small plop in the water. What did that noise come from? I begin to edge closer to the front of the bowl. Something long and red is floating above the water and it’s definitely not an orange pellet. I quickly dive toward this strange object and my instincts tell me, snatch. I listen to them and swallow. I guess that unknown word means yum.

After my little feast, I notice the huge human peering at me from above. I observe a great deal of brown hair covering the human’s face. The human has clear bright blue eyes, reminding me of the color of the ocean in pictures I’ve seen at the Pet Express. I liked the looks of him and quickly addressed it by giving a sharp nod to the human and swimming back to my position behind the plant.

“Did you just nod? At me? No, it must have been the light playing tricks on my eyes. But, wow, you’re a betta fish as in the famous Siamese fighting fish. Incredible.”

I wait until the human walks away from my bowl until I let my guard down. I hear the pounding steps recede and continue my exploration of my new place while pondering the kindness of this human, giving me more things to mull over.

Why would that human reach out to me? I’ve given him nothing and now he probably expects something in return. That’s probably it. I despise having to repay others, especially humans.

“What are you doing?” a voice asks curiously.

“Someone answered me! Someone answered me! Where are you? Where are you?” I answer back as quickly as possible full of emotion, not wanting to lose the direction the voice came from.

“I’m at the top of your bowl, but you don’t have to repeat things twice.” the voice replies back calm and mildly.

I swim up toward the top of the bowl and ask rapidly, “Where are you, I don’t see you.”

“I’m in my shell.”

I swim toward a brown object sticking inside my bowl. “Are you a rock that speaks?”

“No, silly.”

“Then where and what are you?” I peer around my tank until I notice that the brown rock is slowly moving, moving, moving.

“I am a freshwater snail.” the creature replies.

“What is a snail?” I ask. Just sounding the word feels strange in my mouth.

“My job is to keep your bowl clean, or, at least that’s what my family has told me.”

“Your family?”

“You certainly are a curious one. But before I continue answering your questions lets get something straight.”

“Of course! I didn’t mean to be rude. I've just never been able to speak to anyone, except, well, Marlin.”

“Who’s Marlin?”

“The best father in the whole wide world. But as you were saying before?”

“Yes, we need to become proper acquaintances.”

“What?” I ask quizzically.

“No interrupting! Carrying on, do you want to be friends?” the snail asks hopefully.

“Indubitably!” I respond joyfully.

***

During one of our strolls the next day, the snail asks me a question, which is how most of our conversations usually begin.

“What is your name?”

“My name? The humans haven’t officially named me yet but they call me Flash a lot. And I do recall a voice saying that word when I left the Pet Express. Do you know what that word means?”

“I do not, but I’m sure it is the perfect name for you.”

I swim lazily around the bowl and the snail inches along across the glass until I strike up another question, “What is your name?”

“I don’t have one at all, so I believe that I have the complete liberty to choose my own name which will be...Shelly.”

“That’s a perfect name as well.” I respond.

Every day was almost the same in every respect. The human with the hair, which I learned from Shelly that it's called a beard, fed me twice a day, the children tapped on my glass, but Shelly taught me how to avoid them and make them go away, and we have each other for company which made my new life bearable.

Nevertheless, I’ve never gone a day without remembering the Pet Express and Marlin or gotten quite settled into my new place, but that’s ok because life has taught me that there are some things you’ll never wholly adapt to. Some people you’ll never quite get along with no matter how hard you try. But most times, there is a small amount of happiness in your life and your destiny is to find it. Life has taught me that plenty of times. When Marlin handed out his flipper to me, willing to form a friendship with me, a human treating me with unexpected kindness, and finally a snail finding happiness and friendship in me. Life may not be perfect, but my existence should stand as a living testimony to the fact that nothing is really and truly impossible.