Inconvenient Evolutionary Developments

When Ollie realized he had lungs, he was terrified to breathe.

Having something is a problem, but using it is a much bigger problem, because use involves intent. He didn’t intend to have lungs, and so, he hadn’t done anything wrong, but one breath, and he’d be a criminal.

Ollie was born in the Atlantic, before being sent to the Pacific by Bobbie, who explained to him that the Atlantic was now overrun with nymphs, whereas the Pacific was in dire need of more representation.

At the time, he was mostly eel, with a splash of jellyfish, but all aquatic. No doubt about that.

It was always questionable what the nymphs were going to be made of, and of course, everybody wanted to be mostly shark, but that was happening less and less, what with global warming and oil spills.

Now you were lucky to be born with eyes.

But lungs?

Ollie had no idea what to do with lungs, but he knew what not to do with them.

Lungs meant you were decidedly not meant for the water, even if you did have supplementary gills.

As far as Ollie could tell, his gills still worked just fine, but then what were the lungs for? Were they simply unnecessary appendages? And how had they developed so quickly?

He had gone to bed without them, and when he awoke on the reef, there they were, on the lower part of his backside, nearest to his tail.

Surely nobody could imagine him wanting something like this to happen?

And yet, the rules were clear.

Growth of any kind that was unbecoming to a nymph had to be reported within twenty-four hours so a committee could review the evolution and decide whether or not the nymph needed to be transferred to land, wherein it would be sent to a cave and banned from ever touching the water again.

Such a thing had happened to Ollie’s great-uncle Dimitri when he woke up one day to discover that he’d turned into a pigeon. Nobody could figure out how something so monumental had taken place. Magic was considered, and then dismissed. Warlocks had too much to do these days without casting transformation spells on aging nymphs like Dimitri, and so the committee ruled that it was simply a case of bad luck, but bad luck got you exiled.

That’s just how it is.

Ollie wondered how he could disguise the lungs. He wrapped kelp around himself and then shuttled over to Zak the Advice Octopus, who was certified to deal with troubling ocean dilemmas and maintain an aura of confidentiality while doing so.

When Ollie revealed his backside to Zak, he knew immediately that he had made a mistake. Zak clutched at all three of his hearts with six of his arms and ordered Ollie to report the growth right away.

“Just having you here could get me in trouble,” said Zak, taking a quick shot of starfish pulp to calm down, “I could lose my license.”

Ollie didn’t see how having a criminal in your home could cost you an advice license, but he didn’t want to quibble. He assured Zak that he hadn’t used the lungs to breathe (yet) and that he wanted to know if there was a chance they could fall off the same way they grew on? Would it be impossible for such a thing to occur?

“Lungs do not fall off,” said Zak, with a bit more haughtiness than Ollie appreciated, but then he noticed the octopus pinch his beak in a manner that indicated perhaps he had an idea.

Zak went over to his bureau, and, after rooting around in what looked to be a very messy top drawer, pulled out a pamphlet and handed it to the forlorn nymph.

“Go here,” he whispered, as though they might not be totally alone, “Ask for Louise Catfishman. But don’t say I sent you. It won’t matter anyway.”

With that, Zak shooed Ollie away, and when Ollie looked at the address on the pamphlet, he understood why Zak seemed so on edge.

Louise Catfishman had an office near the deeper part of the lagoon that even the local landers don’t fish from. Ollie was apprehensive about traveling there, but he also understood the implication of going to a place like that with a problem like his. Despite her name, it’s possible that Louise was...a sturgeon.

“I can take the lungs off for thirty-eight shells,” Louise said, without even looking at the offending organs, “Forty-six if you don’t want scarring.”

Thirty-eight shells would be riptide robbery. Forty-six was more than Ollie had ever seen in his life.

Still, what choice did he have?

It was this or risk ending up like Dimitri, who nobody brought up in conversation at family reunions, even with Dimitri Jr. swimming around trying to get everyone to play charades.

Ollie ran to the shoal and emptied out his account. Even with that sickening action, he was still two shells short, and had to prawn his mother’s cockles at the Crustacean Hut on his way back to Louise.

Sitting in the waiting room while Catfishman sterilized her stingray, Ollie allowed himself to utilize his lungs just once. What could be the harm now that he knew they’d be gone in a little less than twenty minutes?

It was a strange sensation.

This oxygenation.

An opening and then a closure and then an even bigger pull in as he let his lungs go all the way out, only to find that he was sputtering. Choking.

Drowning.

Is this what drowning feelings like?

He needed something.

Something new.

Air?

He needed air.

Out of the waiting room he swam, and up to the surface.

As he breached the topline of the water, he felt it.

This time the pull managed to pull something in.

Something light; iridescent in his capillaries.

He could breathe.

For the first time in his life, Ollie could breathe.

A few yards away, a fisherman, who had wandered into the wrong part of the lagoon after falling asleep at the helm of his dinghy, spotted what looked like a cross between an eel and a jellyfish, spurting out of the water with what appeared to be...lungs? On its backside? Could that be?

The fisherman promised himself he would never return to this part of the lagoon again.

Some things were best left unexplored.