we are POD
by Christian Vassie
I carefully drag our keep nets closer to the shore, hook them over the spikes, crawl out of the sea and drop onto the warm shingle beside my laptop.
‘No more fish in the sea, no more us, no more you,’ Calypso insists.
Here I am in a sheltered cove on an uninhabited island with the turquoise Mediterranean lapping at my feet, chatting with two bottlenose dolphins.
How cool is that? Glad you asked. It’s not cool, it’s a pain in the butt.
One dolphin is as sociable as a shark with toothache and the other assumes she knows more than I do about everything.
‘We can’t save all the fish in the Mediterranean. There’s only five of us.’ I am using sign language, the same as I use with my brother Fred who is deaf.
‘Fine. Don’t come then,’ Steve retorts, his dorsal fin slicing through the waves, his whistles and clicks picked up by the hydrophone in the water and translated on the laptop in front of me. His head pops up next to Calypso’s.
‘Do you even know the meaning of the word plan?’ I sign.
‘Shh, Sam. They’re coming,’ Calypso shuts us both up. ‘I hear the boat.’
‘Forget it,’ Steve says, slapping his flukes on the water. ‘Humans don’t care about the sea.’
‘Unfair,’ I yell, losing my temper. ‘You do what you want, all I’m saying is that I am not going on any more mad night-time commando raids on illegal Mafia fish pens. It’s dangerous and it’s pointless. Finished.’
Copyright © 2014 Christian Vassie