DESIGN FICTION: Diary of a Basking Shark
DESIGN FICTION: DIARY OF A BASKING SHARK
Baltimore, Ireland 2055
The following is an extract from the early diaries of Maya Clarke.
Much later in life, Maya went on to win the Nobel Prize for Biodiversity Science for her work on Artificial Intelligence communication systems and how they can interface with live bacteria.
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My mother said that the way to a man's heart is through his belly. The same it seems can be said of Basking Sharks. They are greedy eaters of the tiniest things. They feast on fresh air it seems and love us for it. And I love them in turn.
It sounds corny, old fashioned. Too serious. But I do love them.
I didn't think I would.
Why would I? Who loves sharks? Boy children, maybe. And baddies. And basking sharks seem so goofy beside the savage grins of the Great White. Remember that picture-meme of the Great White surfacing with the caption 'rare picture of shark after stepping on legos'. That's gas. Remember to Seek and Send that to the Clan.
Anyway, nattering. Today was glorious. It was everything they said it would be. It was a true Communion.
I'm glad I went for the proper robes. The grey shawl with the herringbone GrowTech weave. It added to it. It made it more itself. More authentic, I suppose. Truer to the scene. I think it must be that micro-proprioception thing that Arnaud was on about. That we pick up tiny cues from our body and the clothes we wear. It's why prisoners used to get fat in loose clothes. Why we act more confident in a suit. And why we feel more woven into the fabric of our seascape in the Robes. More timeless. More in touch with the ancient seas.
The boat choice, too, was worth the coin. That wooden aesthetic added to it. Helped to situate us in an older time, even if beneath the surface the hull was a tri-fibre-glass and carbon-floss mixture. I kind of wish I didn't know that; I kind of wish i hadn't asked the skipper. Ignorance is bliss. It would have felt more ancient, more spiritually timeless to think we were using the same boats the ancients used. But that's nonsense Maya - I don't want a Disneyspace version of this. I don't want to pretend. I'd rather know the truth. There's enough in this ritual to be grateful for.
The mantras were worth learning off by heart. Hard to admit; they seemed stupid. But I get it now. To deliberately recite the feeding words, meant more. Meant something that wasn't just the words. I guess it was mindful. It felt like the sharks understood, when I stepped to the edge, when I walked onto the platform, waist deep on the artificial reef and emptied the baskets of plankton. I'll say them again here, "Lig dúinn beatha tú. Deartháir, deirfiúr, máthair, athair. Lig dúinn tú a bheathú ionas go bhféadfá daoine eile a bheathú freisin. Ith le do thoil, le do thoil ithe linn". Let us feed you. Brother, sister, mother, father. Let us feed you so that you might feed others too. Please eat, Please eat with us.
I could have sworn the sharks waited for me to finish. And if I wasn't such a committed Hyper-Rat I would say that they understood. That they looked right at me when I said "Please eat". But they hardly could have. Can they even hear outside of water? I don't know - will check it later. Or maybe I'll just let it linger. The romance of it is warmer than the cold explainability of understanding. Better not let the HyperRats hear me say that one. There's a difference between lying to ourselves and just not bothering to put things under the knife of explainability.
Scáth Mór (Great Shadow) allowed himself to be touched by me. The ritual master said that was rare. Very rare. Rare to touch any basking shark, rarer still to touch Scáth Mór. He was a leader of sorts. And old. Wary of us humans and the damage we have done. He must remember the 2010s and 2020s - they can grow that old. Humans weren't to be trusted then. The fishermen and the pleasurecraft. We used not feed them then. We used not Commune.
Why me? Pure coincidence? Something else. The ritualmaster said I should meditate upon it. I have and I will again. It seemed Fateful. A sign.
Anyway, all in all it was a perfect day. Actually ... The only wrinkle was the girl on the other boat and her screaming when the sharks approached. What did she expect the silly bitch? That nearly scared away our sharks, they must have heard her ... so maybe Scáth Mór did hear me when I said "Please eat".
Let's choose to believe.
Anyway, I've had nothing like it before, and I may not see a day like this again. It was ... holy? Raw? Real? Compassionate, caring ... I don't know how to describe it. But I take the Movement seriously now, if I didn't before. It's not just the right thing to do. It's not just the Hyper-Rational thing. It's much more than that. I can feel it.
I've taken the Pledge and I intend to see it through.