An Overdue Guest

It is not often that she chooses to leave the depths at this hour. She regrets it now most of all, an unknown guest trailing behind her in a boat made of metal that seems too new to be of the Lands.

“Please, I’m looking for someone.” It’s old English. From the End of Days. She only knows from her extensive political studies. The people on the Lands, she knows, speak old English to some capacity. She must know the language, one day, she too will be on the Lands alongside the Ministers.

“I will take you.” She responds. “To whomever you are searching for.”

---

In three days the guest is back in their boat, sleeping on calm waters. 

It’s her night to be guard, along with a few of her classmates. She enters the water slowly, the cold doesn’t shock her. She swims slowly to the boat, imperceptibly. There is no ripple on the surface, she is too much below the water to make a difference. She rounds the boat a few times, taking in the lack of inscription. No name. No people. 

When she surfaces, the water glides down her thick, waxy skin. Again, the sound is imperceptible. But when she breaths, there is sound. Perhaps she wants to be found. 

“I’m a stranger, I know, but I am not a threat.” The guest says in old English.

“I am here for your protection and our own. Please do go back to sleep. It’s rude to interrupt a guest’s rest.”

“You didn’t.”

“I will be swimming here, do not mind me then.”

“I haven’t gotten the answers I came here to find, you know?”

“The Ministers haven’t been to your liking?” 

“The Ministers do not trust me. There are things they want me to hide. There are things they want to hide from me.”

“I’m studying to be one, soon.” 

“Answer my questions?”

“Tell me who you are.”

“You will find out soon enough. There isn’t much about me that I can hide. I feel like my origins are plain to see. What happened here? Who are you?”

“Most of us took to the water at the End of Days. After all, there was little left. It only makes sense that some several tens of thousands of years later, the water became our home. Our bodies became the water. My mother used to tell me how we were never really meant to exist literally, that we were fantastical creatures depicted in the stories of old pirates, Greek heroes, children’s movies about the rebellious teenage years of young girls. It’s funny, that so long ago, people predicted who they would become.”

“You’re a siren then? A mermaid?”

“No. They don’t exist. They aren’t real, we are. I suppose we’re just the closest realization.”

“Right.”

“I’m going to continue, then.”

“Please.”

“The wealthy among us left, to conquer the skies — building homes, building a new world on the waterless Moon. They too, inevitably, must’ve adapted. I cannot say how, they do not ever visit their ancestral homes. Those who could not bear to leave their homes, to run to the depths of water, stayed on the Lands. The elders show us photographs and film of the barren Lands at the End of Days. Today, there are trees. The people on the Lands look different than us, far different from us. They are tall and uniformly thin. They do not need to protect themselves from coldness as often as us. 

“We do not live in the water, I want to clarify. There are several islands scattered in the One Ocean where we sleep, where we warm ourselves, where the intellectuals continue their technological pursuits. We do dwell in the water. If need be, we can swim miles in two breaths. we can plunge ourselves deep into the darkness to bring up fish and weed. Our islands are divided by nations, each responsible for their own waters. Our governments extend across the largest domain on Earth, the officials take their jobs very seriously.”

“Sirens who do not live in the water and giants on the Lands. Sirens with governments. It’s all so much to one day wake up to.”

“You woke up here then? You don’t remember your journey here?”

“No, I woke up on the Lands. Some forgotten beach a few thousand miles from here. I’ve been searching for months. For people, my people. I could not find any on the Lands.”

“They live far into the interiors. You would’ve never found them on the beaches. They’re too afraid of the water. They’re too afraid of us.”

“And you? You all have legs. You live, technically, to some capacity on the land—”

“Islands. We are not allowed on the Lands.”

“Yes, islands.” The guest is puzzled. “So if it’s only islands you’ve been on, how can you know so much of the Lands?”

“Over time, many have defected to join the people on the Land — most of them for love, some for principle, few because they honestly preferred the Land. Unity among those of us in the water and those of us on the Land is a lost cause — we are trading partners, but we steer clear of each other. There was no war at the End of Days, so some hundred years ago, our ancestors decided they needed one to once and for all decide the fates of our kinds. Where our territories ended and began. I was never much curious about the Land, quite frankly. But it is hard not to know about our only political partner. Especially since I want to become a minister.

“A good portion of those who left the water find themselves back in some capacity. They tell stories to those of us willing to listen. There are forests and houses, snow in some regions. Although, they insist, it’s nothing like the islands. The Land is stuck farther in the past than imaginable. It’s almost as if, in some parts, the End of Days did not touch them. There are meetings of diplomacy, sometimes, on the Land instead of our islands. During those days, my mother takes me with her. But those days are far and few between.”

“So the Earth is the kingdom of sirens then.” 

“Not sirens. We are still people, just a little different than what we used to be. Years from now, we may be even more accustomed to our water. You insist that I am a siren. There is no such thing, really. I do not find myself craving the fleshy bits of sailors.”

“For that I am very grateful. Although there is not much flesh for you to crave. The meal your Ministers fed me was the first proper meal I’ve had in the months I’ve been here.”

“We don’t know what you eat, whatever they served I hope it was to your liking.”

“Yes. I liked the food a lot. It’s new.”

“You’re not from the Lands?” She asks, just to ensure she was correct to assume this guest’s origins.

“I’m far too short, aren’t I?”

“You look like the people in the photos, in the films. Untouched by the reality of the Earth. The thousands of years of enduring adaptation and change are lost on you…”

“I’m overdue for a visit. It’s been far too long.” The guest smiles. They nudge their head to the night sky above them.

She looks beyond the surface of the One Ocean, the moon reflecting in front of her. Her head moves slowly, upward in the slightest of angles. It doesn’t take much time looking at the stars for her to understand.

“It’s as though you’ve fallen from the sky.”

“We are dying. The skies are not forgiving.”

“You’ve fallen from the sky.”

“There is nothing left.”

She looks at the overdue guest, then to the stars once more. “The Earth has outgrown you. We have outgrown you. You cannot possibly think you’re welcome back?”