Conversation among Corals

Shaueel Persadee imagines a discussion among inhabitants of an undersea community facing threats from the world over which they have no control. Persadee is a student of Biology and Environmental Sceince at the University of the West Indies and education officer at the Pointe-a-Pierre Wildfowl Trust. He also writes a creative blog https://shaleics.wordpress.com/

One great ocean, spreading around the globe, its waters connected by a complex variety of courses and transformations. One great sun, shining down from the heavens, spreading light and heat more intense than the world could ever hope to use. Yet, beneath the rolling waves near some tropical islands, where the water is blue as the sky, and fish still swim in schools rather than in solitude, there lies a different world. This world of colourful cities and fascinating fellows not only depends on the mercy of the sun and the sea, but the mercy of those who live above the surface of the water.

Normally all citizens would carry on their merry lives, staying moderately still to those whose eyes cannot perceive the simplest and subtlest motions, while flaunting bright and extravagant displays that seem to magically grow grander given time. With pleasant words they greet each other and their mobile neighbours, who swim and crawl and run along, hustling and bustling about their business.

  

A Caribbean coral reef. IYOR Image Bank, The Ocean Agency

         

However today is no normal day, and none of the citizens of the city are in any sort of joyous mood. A range of emotions sweep across, like a great wave that crashes to the shore not far away; this wave crashes here, bringing anxiety, panic, fear, sadness and outrage. The roar of the rushing water overhead is loud, and so each speaker must pitch his voice in booming announcements across the reef.

“Methinks some mischief is afoot,” the Staghorn coral says, raising his antlers high and his voice with it.

“It’s the surface dwellers. Those foul humans are screwing up everything as usual,” the Fire coral cracks, her tongue unrelenting in her speech.

“Let us be patient and discuss what we know, rather than jump to conclusions and assume the worst,” wise Brain coral says, always striving for diplomacy in all matters. As each representative speaks, kind little Sea Pen documents it all, recording a history of her time for the future generations of coral.

“I’ve seen them. Sailing past here on their boats, some of them even swimming in our cities. A few have even dared to try and touch us. Let’s not forget what happened to Ms. Pillar…lost quarter of her body in a few moments, after a pair of rough hands saw fit to take piece of her with them,” Staghorn states, and the Pillar coral off to the corner of the reefs sighs a low hum.

“And the hooks, don’t forget the hooks. Piercing, stabbing, gripping, ripping, tearing, killing…our kind little fish friends. The same little squirts that we see grow up from eggs. Gone with a metal spike in the mouth…if they’re lucky. And if the hooks miss, well, just look at me!” The Fire coral shrieks as she finishes, and where once she had beautiful white tips at the edges of her ‘hair’ as she calls it, now there is nothing. Her bald spot.

“These are all valid complaints, dear friends. All of these are greatly concerning to us and we must surely find a way to address these issues. However, I must remind you that the issue we are discussing, while it may stem from the surface dwellers, is different in nature. Perhaps we can hear from one who has experienced it before,” Brain coral offers, and for a moment, there is a hush. Then, a meek voice raises out from somewhere in the city. It is the Star coral.

“I-I-I do believe that I-I’ve faced this situation before. I was doing my favourite thing in the world, sitting and staring at the night sky. It was a beautiful full moon that night, and all the stars were out in glory. It was a nice time to be a star coral. That’s when I noticed it. A jellyfish it appeared to be, floating down, bobbing with no real purpose, just content to let the currents carry it. Lower and lower it descended, and then it touched me. I felt no stings, not even the tiniest jolt and before I realized something was wrong, it was too late.

“This monster from the surface world covered me, I could barely see through it. The night sky disappeared, and I was blinded. The worst part of it all, I was helpless. Absolutely nothing I could do to get it off. I could not see; I could not breathe. I felt death coming. Yet hope came first, in a passing sea turtle, who with his great beak, picked it off, and though I tried to warn him that it was not a jellyfish, he had already gone too far. And the monstrous creation, which I know now is called a plastic bag, had as well. I saw that turtle float by the reef just hours after, a grim sight as the sun rose; the shadow of a dead body blocking my eyes from the sky once more.”

A great silence falls over the reef as the story ends, for none of them has ever heard of such horror, nor experienced it. At least, not yet. As if to punctuate the story with a full stop, a new object floats down from the surface, this one with a fixed cylindrical shape, and it floats right into Fire coral’s bald spot, where it gets stuck.

“Get it out, get it out!” she shrieks and panics, frantic and enraged all at the same time. None of them can do anything. They cannot move; they cannot help. This will be their fate, and though none of them will admit it, slowly and sadly they all accept it. Little Sea Pen starts her final entry, to record the events about to happen. She starts, “The End.”