A story I'm very proud of. So proud it was published twice. What began as a porn story kickback for buying Felix and the Sacred Thor became something more. The prompt was "orcas and muscles." I was free to do whatever I wanted from there. For some reason my mind drifted to Seaworld as a refuge for banished oceanic peoples. I was unhappy with the original porn version, so I replaced the ending with where I thought it was going. Celebrity is a hollow existence, and I don't blame Aro for wanting to make an impact. I wish him well on his journey, but it's going to be difficult for people to take him seriously.  He is a nobody under the waves, but on land he is a sex symbol . He wants to educate the surface-people about the civilizations that live beneath the waves, but they're staring at his enormous biceps and gigantic quads. This is the text from the Shark Week anthology, which includes some edits that did not make it into the Allasso 3 edition.

 

On the Surfaceby James L. Steele

The stage had no curtain, rather it used lighting to hide theperformers from view. Right now the stage lights were dimmed tonothing, and the house lights were fully lit so the land-dwellerscould find their seats.

Far above the stage, Aro and his fellow performersstood on the catwalk, leaning on the railing. An ocean of alien lifeto the three dozen watching from the catwalk.

The usual crowd of coastline people: otters,canines, rodents, gators. The tourists stood out among them:reptiles, coyotes, red foxes, wolves, cougars and bears. Then therewere the foreigners: tigers and kangaroos to name a couple. Evenafter ten years, Aro still couldn’t tell distinct individuals of aspecies apart. No one on the stage could. Everyone was equally alien,and Aro was keenly aware they thought the same of him.

This show was designed to combat that. A way toend the mystery. By presenting his world on stage for everyone tosee, it would be that much less alien to everyone. He especiallyenjoyed this vantage point. His people were used to seeing the landcreatures from below. This was the only place in the world where theperspective was reversed.

The crowd murmured amongst itself before the show.He’d come to view the audience as a school of fish: no real leader,but identical in behavior. Even though different people made up thetheater house every night, they reacted the same to everything onstage. They cheered and clapped at the same time, got up, sat downand breathed as one. Fish. Thinking of them like this helped Aro dealwith their alien stares. He shared this technique with everyone whojoined the show, and it helped them adjust.

The house lights dimmed. As a single creature, theaudience quieted down. The performers took position at the gaps inthe railing and raised their heads. Now it was time to forget thepeople in the seats and concentrate on the performance.

The entire theater remained dark for a fewmoments. Then the stage lights brightened from both above and below,and the audience gasped in awe at what was before them.

There was no stage.

Suspended in midair over where the platform of atheater stage should have been was an enormous sphere of water. Belowit, a crystal clear pool.

The audience chittered at the sight. Aro caughtthe usual reactions: “impossible,” “how in the,” “that’sgotta be a trick,” “projection or something.” Aro smiled. Theywere always awed by the first image of the show, and the rest wouldonly be better. The music started. Aro counted beats, waited for theright bar, and then dove into the sphere. As soon as his body touchedthe water, he was home.

 

On land, Aro’s motions had to be carefullypremeditated. In the water, he could move freely. He folded his armsdown at his sides and righted himself. His tail stabilized him and hefloated in the middle of the sphere, legs together, arms at his side,surrounding water absorbing the muffled sounds of the audience. Theygazed at him, mouths gaping. Again. For most of them, it was theirfirst time seeing an orca, let alone one like Aro.

A rare sight even among his own people, he wassix-hundred pounds of solid muscle. He could bench press twice thatmuch, squat three times, and easily curl half. He wore no clothes,but he had nothing to hide, unlike the land-dwellers. As part of theshow, the audience was given a few moments to absorb his presence. Hekept a stoic, dignified expression as he floated before them.

Then the other performers dove in. Dolphins,humpbacks, sharks, and even a few eels. They swam into position allaround the sphere and hovered in place to let the land-dwellersabsorb the sight of each performer. The audience orgasmed. Aro oftenwondered how they even survived being taken aback three times in lessthan a minute.

Creatures of the ocean tended to be massive.Nobody in the show was under three hundred pounds. Each of them wasquite capable of lifting their own body weight. They were hugecompared even to the largest land-dweller, but their bodies werestill streamlined to glide through the water.

The entire cast was painted in their tribalcolors, the same dyes and pigments used in their homewaters. Thedolphins had green swirls. The great white had orange dots sprinklinghis scales. The coral shark had deep purple crisscrossing his naturalbrown spots. Aro, the only orca in the show, was painted red betweenhis black swatches.

The music cued them. The performers pivoted inplace and began swimming around Aro. As they did, water stretchedfrom the pool below. Like taffy, it rose halfway up the height of thegiant central sphere. It pulled away from the pool, wobbled andcollected into a perfect, hovering globe.

The looping dolphins dove out of the main sphere,arcing gracefully through the air and slipping into the smaller one.They swam in formation through it.

Meanwhile another sphere had been rising on theother side. It separated from the pool and collected itself into asecond, hovering at the same height as the large globe. The sharksleaped into it.

Two more spheres rose from the pool and stoppedabove and just behind the large globe. The eels leaped into one, andthe humpbacks into the other. Aro floated alone in the center.

The performers in each sphere swam inchoreographed loops and twirls. Aro waited for his cue, then heglided through the water of the central sphere. His tail propelledhim, his legs controlled his speed and rotation, his arms steeredhim. He swam in large circles, building up momentum. Then he leapedthrough the empty air and slipped into the shark’s sphere. Hecurled up and glided through their formations. Aro looked like theerratic comet swirling around an orderly solar system, changing pitchand angle with every orbit, picking up impossible speed in such asmall space and yet never touching a single shark.

On cue, he leaped straight up through the emptyair into the eel’s sphere and swam through their synchronized waterdance as the music picked up. Aro leaped through the humpback’ssphere, then finally into the dolphin’s.

After building up momentum, he leaped through theair, straight towards the house and into the large globe. He didn’tbend his path around to stay within it—he kept swimming towards theaudience.

The people gasped as the orca flew towards them.At first he appeared to splash out of the globe and land on someone,but the sphere of water had stretched with him. It spread out into asheet, a two-dimensional ocean hovering in midair over the seats.Everyone gazed up at Aro. Children pointed. Adults stared with openmouths.

While the audience had been distracted watchingthe massive orca somehow swimming over their heads, the other spheresmerged with the sheet, and the performers glided through the hoveringocean. The dolphins and sharks swam in formation upside down, givingthe people in the seats the illusion of viewing them from above. Someof the taller ones had to lean down to keep the fins from hittingtheir heads.

Gradually the ocean receded to the stage andre-formed a single globe over the pool. The dolphins gathered on oneside of the sphere. The sharks on the other.

The choreographed opening was over. Now began thesilent play. This was the element of the show that changed fromquarter to quarter and kept the performers from getting bored withroutine.

This quarter’s play was a reenactment of the warbetween the sharks and the dolphins. Aro, the eels, and the humpbackshad discreetly left the stage. Most waited in the pool below fortheir cue. Aro had swum up to the top and waited on the catwalk,watching the house from his usual place.

It was his quarter off from this part of the show.He had performed in all three segments last quarter and was glad fora chance to relax for part of the night again. It gave him time toobserve the aliens below.

He was always curious to see their reactions tothe play. Aro himself had it memorized, and he’d watched audienceswatch the play a dozen times by now, so he knew what their reactionwould be before they ever made it. Fish were predictable.Land-dwellers in groups were no different.

One person caught his eye. Aro strained his eyesto see him through the darkness. He recognized the species only fromphotographs and books: lion. The first lion he had ever seen in hisfifteen years on land.

The play was to the point of the battle itself.Every performer had small packets of a red substance hidden undertheir body paint. When struck, the packet broke and a trail ofsomething that resembled blood poured out. But unlike real blood, itdidn’t dissipate. It stuck together and formed majestic strands inthe water that swirled with the sphere’s rotation. Aro wished realblood behaved so poetically.

He had raised objection to the romanticizing ofthis war while the segment was still in the planning stage, but theproducers insisted it was just for the show. The story behind itwould be well-known. Aro had been skeptical until he saw thereactions. To the land-dwellers, Aro’s ordinary, everyday life wasfascinating and poetic. It made him feel special.

The lion’s reaction to the poetic blood was evenmore pronounced than the audience’s. One of the performers letherself fall out of the sphere and into the pool below in theatricaldeath.

The lion cried.

Aro squinted, trying to get a better look at him.The rest of the land-dwellers watched with calm detachment. But notthis creature. Aro had never seen anyone so absorbed in the showbefore.

The sphere was full of strands of poetic blood asthe final two combatants swam and parried each other. The lion wasthe most attentive in the house. Aro wanted to see his reaction tothe finale, but he had to be ready for his cue. As the show’s star,he was part of every closing performance. Aro took his place above.

In the battle, the sharks won, and the lastdolphin performer poetically fell to his death in the pool below. Thelast shark swam to the foreground and posed victoriously before theaudience. In the silence, the blood swirled around them.

This was true. The sharks had won but haddestroyed the territory they fought over and had to abandon itanyway. That was the reason Aro put on these silent plays. They mayromanticize the battles, but they always preserved the poignantendings. The shark swam alone in the empty sphere with the blood fora minute. Then he himself fell to the pool below, leaving an emptyglobe behind for a few beats.

The stage lights dimmed. The house stood andapplauded.

The UV lights switched on. The blood changed fromred to blue. The sphere expanded into a sheet and flattened out likea tidal wave. Visually, it symbolized that out of the horrors of warcame something wonderful. Mutual understanding and peace. Theland-dwellers took their seats and gazed up in awe.

The lion gasped and sank deeper into his seat.That wasn’t just a typical fish-gasp of amazement. The lion wasenamored. Among an entire school of fish, this lion stood out inevery possible way. Aro pondered it, almost missing his cue. He putit away and dove into the flat ocean. The other performers swam up,meeting in the middle.

The suspended ocean was low enough for theperformers to reach down and touch the audience. Aro was always firstto begin. He held his hand down to a wolf cub in a seat. The cubcautiously took his hand. Aro gave it a gentle squeeze and swam on asthe music sped up. The other performers did the same to as manypeople as they could. It was tricky because they had to stay somewhatin formation to maintain their place in the choreography, but therewas some room for variation.

To the people in the seats, it was like reachinginto the water and touching a new world. Aro figured it was what gavethis theater worldwide fame. No other place in the world allowedland-dwellers to touch another culture like this.

Aro glanced from side to side, looking for thelion. Alas he was on the other side of the theater; no way Aro couldreach him from here. Too many ocean-dwellers were in his way, and ifhe broke formation, he could cause performers to fall out of thewater and onto someone’s head.

When the music reached a certain pitch, theperformers withdrew their hands and crisscrossed through the sheetback to the stage. They jumped above, dove back in and never touchedeach other or fell through to the seats. The cheers and awe-inspiredshouts were their reward.

Gradually the performers returned to the stage,the sheet receding with them and reforming into a sphere. They swamaround for the finale. The UV lighting now highlighted their bodypaint, making them look alien even to the performers’ eyes.

The ocean-dwellers stopped and floated in exactlythe same positions in which they had begun the show. The musicstopped. The audience jumped to their paws, hooves, and claws andapplauded.

As one, the other performers did a loop, their ownvariation of a theatrical bow, and swam either above or belowoffstage, leaving Aro alone in the sphere for a few moments. Then heperformed a theatrical bow in water, twirled around, and swam up. Thesphere lowered into the pool, and the stage went dark. The applauselasted another five minutes. Aro leaned on the railing and watched.

The lion’s mouth was agape at the spectacle, andhe was panting. This wasn’t an uncommon reaction, but in the lion’scase there seemed to be something more authentic about it. Perhaps hehad come from some faraway land and never even knew there were peoplewho lived their whole lives in the ocean. The show would be much moreintense to someone like him.

The theater-goers filed out. Aro watched until thelion left, then he crossed the catwalk and down the stairs to theperformer’s lounge.

#

Aro’s room was on the top floor of the hoteladjacent to the theater. Each suite had been custom remodeled. Mosteverything a land-dweller would want in a room had been removed—thebedroom, the minibar, most of the bathroom, and so on. Instead,ninety percent of the floor space had been converted into a pool.

Made of transparent resin, Aro’s pool was builtright up against the exterior wall. The windows overlooking the cityhad been reconstructed to extend below the floor level. This gave Aroa bird’s-eye window-view of the city even from the bottom of thepool. It was a view he had specifically requested.

The remaining ten percent of the suite wasfurnished with a couch, love seat, tables, and chairs facing atelevision. Aro occasionally watched television but seldom used thefurniture. These things were for the land-dweller visitors.

Aro’s was one suite of about thirty remodeled inthis way. He had his own suite, and so did each of the sharks and theeels and the humpbacks. The dolphins, however, had a suite together,three rooms joined into a single unit.

The salty water was warm, constantly filtered andas pure as it could be. That was another thing he requested, as soonas he found out it was possible. It turned out to be the easiestthing for the land-dwellers to accommodate, which, fifteen years ago,was nothing short of magic.

Heated water, free of debris and all impurity, wasthe ocean-dweller’s equivalent of finding the land of milk andhoney. Countless stories of vain attempts to find this paradise werepassed down from generation to generation. Nobody once put forth theidea that it would exist on dry land.

Among the ocean people, “luxury” was a conceptthat didn’t exist. Everyone in the sea was the same. The mobilitywater permitted meant there was no way for one group of people toseparate themselves from another group. Kings and queens were thesame as paupers and generals. To have heated pools filled withfiltered water, air always in easy reach, separated from everyone buta privileged few was luxury in every sense of the concept. It was asunfathomable to an ocean-dweller as sleeping in the clouds, and yethere he was.

Aro floated gently to the surface and rested onhis back. The show always took a lot out of him, and coming back tothis pool of filtered water was the only reward he needed. About anhour after the show concluded there was a knock on the door.

“It’s open,” Aro shouted.

A spindly lapine wearing usual business attirewalked in. Aro raised his head from the pool and welcomed him.

The Cast Assistant, Olis, carefully stepped aroundthe pool, turned a chair to face the orca and sat down. He set thetiny computer on his lap, opened it, and ran down Aro’s messages.The orca turned over and swam casually around and through the pool ashe listened.

Aro didn’t know how to use a computer. Hecouldn’t even read, but he didn’t have to; Olis had been hired totake care of these matters for him. His assistant read him officialcommuniqués from award ceremonies, royal banquets, celebrity eventsand the like.

Today was more of the usual invitations to visitfaraway places, and Aro listened with casual interest. Just lastmonth he had taken a trip out west to visit film studios and meetsome of those performers. He was in negotiations to get the castinvolved in motion pictures. Aro was thrilled at the idea of a filmadaptation of the stage show. Finally a chance to put every elementof the show together and present it to everyone who couldn’t see itin person.

It was a lot to arrange, as transporting the castover long distances was no easy task. Trucks had to be equipped withpools and water systems. As of now there were only two such trucksavailable. Aro was usually the only one who traveled, as he had beentold it was too expensive to transport everyone.

That’s what the negotiations were about, and itwas the message Olis was reading to him now. The theater’sproducers were trying to convince the film studio to split themassive cost of transportation and housing. The film studio’scounter-counter-proposal was to pay for one truck, one room, and theentire cast would simply be housed in one of the community pools.

Aro did a loop through the water, considered itbelow the surface for a minute, then came up and said, “I don’tlike that. It’s not wise to keep sharks in crowded places for toolong. Dolphins can get away with it, but sharks get agitated.”

As Aro spoke about the generations of war betweensharks and dolphins, and between orcas and sharks, Olis typed. Rightnow it was only the show that kept them together in peace—they werein this for a common good—but if cooped up together for too long,old rivalries would bubble up again.

Olis finished typing almost as soon as Arofinished speaking. He nodded and continued on down the list ofmessages. Aro agreed to a few public appearances, other invitationsto meet various kings, queens, and presidents across the world. Asusual, he would go alone and speak for the group.

It was amazing. Countless opportunities laid outbefore him. All he had to do was say yes, and he was easilytransported over vast distances to meet powerful people.

When he had answered everyone, Olis closed thecomputer and said goodnight. Aro wished him goodnight as well. Therabbit walked out and closed the door behind him. He didn’t botherlocking it.

Aro folded his hands behind his head and floatedbetween the surface and the pool’s resin bottom. He rolled over tohis side and gazed out the window at the city. An endless nighttimevista of lights greeted him. He never tired of it.

Since Aro had left the ocean fifteen years ago,every land-dweller lifted him up on a pedestal and marveled at him.In the ocean, he had just been an orca, unable to change or influenceanything. None of this would have happened in his homewaters, and hewas thrilled for the chance to reach as many land-dwellers aspossible and tell them about his people. It was working better thanhe had ever hoped.

#

The lion was in the house for the next night’sshow. And the next. And the next. For five straight performances Arowatched him from the top of the stage. Most people only came to thistheater once. Tickets were too expensive to buy on a whim; this showwas something people planned ahead for months to see.

It wouldn’t have been so unusual if he had morepeople with him each time. It wasn’t uncommon for people to bring afriend or family member to see the show the next night. That was theusual reason anyone saw the show more than once, but the lion wasalone. Night after night he found his seat by himself. No one sharedhis awe and fascination during the performance. No one joined hisside as he filed out of the theater.

Aro watched him closer during the performances.After the play, the lion leaned out of his seat and gazed up at theocean above. One of the sharks happened to swim over his seat, andshe reached down and held a hand out to him. The lion eagerly reachedup and took the hand. He grasped it hard, she would later tell Aro,like he was trying to pull himself up into the ocean. When she swamaway, the lion turned around in his seat and watched her go. Hewatched everyone at once, following every performer.

He seemed more and more in awe every time he sawit. Aro wanted to arrange it so he could shake the lion’s hand, butthe lion’s seats were always too far away from Aro’s reach. Theblocking was ironclad. Any deviation from it would be disaster.

While standing offstage during the silent play onthe fourth night, Aro wondered if this lion really was from thatdistant continent whose name escaped him. He remembered it lay inwaters that were foreign even to Aro. What must the world be likeover there for him to be so fascinated by ocean-dwellers?

On the fifth night Aro found the lion in theaudience again, and as usual he was not in a seat under Aro’s path.The lion watched the silent play intently, hanging on the performers’every action.

Aro had met kings and queens, dictators andpresidents, celebrities and titans of industry, but never in hisfifteen years on land had he seen this kind of reaction from thoseland-dwellers. The first person to be truly touched by theocean-dweller’s everyday, ordinary life. The first real sign thatpeople were getting the message. Aro wanted to thank him, but not inthe same way he thanked the rest of the fish. He wanted the lion toknow what it meant to him.

The finale ran like clockwork, and as soon as hewas out of the sphere, Aro clumsily ran across the catwalk, down thesteps and through the door to the lounge. He quickly wiped the UVblood off his hide, grabbed a towel, and dried himself off.

Aro couldn’t understand the value of being dry,but Aro was used to this since the theater and hotel staff balked atthe performers whenever they walked around wet. Or naked.

Aro didn’t see the point in clothes either. Hehad no “offensive” parts to flash anybody with, but he and theother performers were instructed that when they went out in public,they must be dry and clothed.

As dry as he could be, Aro threw on the shirt andshorts he had stashed behind a trash can before tonight’sperformance. He walked out of the lounge, through the office area,and out the far door.

The people in the hall were just exiting thetheater. When an enormous orca stepped out the employee’s onlydoor, they were even more stunned than they had been during theperformance. Aro smiled as best he could. A crowd gatheredimmediately.

Their producers didn’t discourage unplannedappearances between shows, but it was seldom done. Aro himself hadn’tdone it in two years; things had become so busy he didn’t have timeto go out and meet people.

As graceful as he was in the water, on land he wasjust a big klutz. His muscles, invaluable in the water for twistingand looping through the currents and fending off predators from allangles, on land they tended to grind against each other and get inthe way. He had been warned that it could ruin the magic, seeing anocean-dweller on land, which would damage the show’s reputation.

Still, connecting with the fans like this couldhelp the show, so the producers didn’t mind the occasional surprisemeet-and-greet as long as they refrained from any activity that wouldmake them look graceless.

Even for all that, the main reason it was a rareoccurrence was because ocean people spoke in an ultrasonic vocalrange. Most of the performers couldn’t speak the land-dweller’slanguages. Aro was one of only three who could. He was not only thestar performer but the primary translator between the choreographers,directors, producers, and everyone else on land who had to be part oftheir lives. It had taken four years for Aro to reach this point.Most of the others were just starting.

The crowd filed out of the theater and congealedaround Aro. The orca towered three feet above them, reaching down toshake hands of the tiny land-dwellers and answering questions.

“Absolutely love the show!”

“You guys are beautiful up—”

“How do you get the water to do that?!”

“Oh, I know, right—”

“—amaz—”

“—takes my breath away!”

Aro laughed a little. “Thank you, thank you forcoming. I’m glad the show thrilled you, but I’m not allowed totalk about the water effects. Trade secret.”

“—it true all of you got cut off in some lakethat dried up and now you’re trapped here?”

“I heard that, too!”

“Everyone’s sayin’ it—”

“—how did you—”

“No, it’s not true. Fifteen years ago Idecided to venture onto dry land. As a youth I’d heard rumors ofpeople who live their lives above the surface, and I wanted to findout if they were true. I found a whole civilization of billions rightabove our heads. I was always told if I showed myself I’d bekilled, but I didn’t believe it. Communication was difficult for awhile, but there had been other sea people who’d made the same leapI did years earlier. They had already figured out how to communicatewith my kind, to an extent. I gave my story and wanted to know asmuch about the land as I could. About ten years ago someoneapproached me with the idea for this stage show as a means to tellthe world who we are. The others joined the show pretty much for thesame reasons. They’d heard the rumors and wanted to find out forthemselves.”

Aro always marveled at how everyone quieted downand listened whenever he spoke. The fish murmured, tittered amongstthemselves.

“How much can you bench?” someone asked.

“I heard you can lift a car; is that tr—?”

“—is it just for the show?”

Aro smiled charismatically. “We exercise tomaintain it now, but in the open water, we get like this justswimming against the currents and fighting off predators.”

“What’s the blood made of?”

“—rade secret, too?”

“Yes,” Aro said, shaking a few more hands.“It’s another secret. It’s similar to our body paint. We reallydo paint our bodies like this; it’s for tribal identification. I’mfrom the tribe of,” Aro made a few ultrasonic whistles. “Ithappens to glow in UV light. Sea dwellers’ eyes are sensitive toit, so it means a lot more to us.”

“What’s it made of?”

“—is it true it takes six hours to put it on?”

“How much do your makeup people get paid to putthat stuff on?”

Aro sighed. Typical fish questions. They keptcoming. Aro stopped giving historical and cultural details andfocused on the rumor and the stage. It’s what the fish wanted totalk about, and if there was one thing he learned in the water it’sthat you can’t steer a school of fish by yourself.

He found the lion in the crowd, listening eagerlybut struggling to keep a position in the crowd. The lion stood a foottaller than everyone else. Aro’s eyes met the lion’s.

Aro smiled at him, leaned close. “I see you inthe house a lot lately.”

The lion was speechless for a few breaths. He’dbeen singled out; one of the performers had noticed him, and the lionhad gone into fanboy lockup, no doubt. “It’s... Beautiful.”

Aro smiled. He leaned close to the lion’s earand whispered. “Go back inside the theater. I’ll meet you therein twenty minutes.”

He straightened up and addressed the crowd again.The lion stood there stunned. Aro made eye contact again and nodded,hoping that was the correct gesture for “you heard right, now go.”

The lion slowly turned and walked against the flowinto the theater again. Aro smiled and mingled with the audience foranother ten minutes, answering more fish questions. Then he startedto back away to the door. The fish objected as one, following him ashe retreated.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I can hold my breathfor an hour in the water but I can only be out of it for a shorttime. My skin starts to dry out after just half an hour.”

The fish were disappointed in a very understandingway. Aro shook hands as he backed up to the employee’s only door.He punched in the code, slipped inside, and shut the door behind him.He paused. Listened to the murmur on the other side.

The fish were comparing pictures they’d taken,showing each other videos. Others were telling their children howlucky they were to see the orca offstage. Aro caught his breath andsmiled at his position. No one back in his homewaters would believethat on dry land, the fish chase you.

He lumbered down the hall and into the lounge.The other performers were in here already, lounging around orswimming along the bottom, imagining they were back in the open waterand not in this tank.

Aro stripped off the clothes and plunged in thepool. Ultrasonic questions of why he’d gone out and met the peopletonight of all nights filled his ears.

He told them he had to meet the lion.

The others still questioned why he should singlethis one out.

Aro replied that he had never seen someone sotouched by the show before. It meant the show was working. It wasremoving the mystery—introducing the land nations to the worldunder the waves. Ten years of work, and it was finally starting topay off. He didn’t want to let this lion slip through like the restof the fish. He had to thank him personally.

Aro allowed himself only two minutes to recover,then he got out, dried himself off, and slipped the clothes on again.

He didn’t climb the stairs to the catwalk,instead he used one of the stagehand exits to the house. He grabbedthe undersized handle gently and twisted it. The door opened inward,and he stepped into the empty theater. Sitting in the same seat fromwhich he had watched tonight’s performance was the lion, all alone.Aro walked up the aisle and sat next to him.

Sitting was one of those inelegant actionsocean-dwellers were encouraged to avoid. His body was not made forit; his tail got in the way and his muscles bunched up like cementballoons. The movement just wasn’t part of an ocean-dweller’slife. But Aro wanted to meet the lion on his terms, so he riskedlooking like a clown.

“Wh... Hello,” the lion said.

“Hello to you.”

“Oh I can’t believe you were serious! I lovethe show! It’s really beautiful I can’t get enough. All of youare so wonderful and... And uh. You’re even bigger in person. B—butwhy did you ask me to meet you here? I’m, um, mm...”

Aro understood the nerves. Everyone was nervoustalking to someone as alien as an orca. One thing he learned was toprompt the other person to talk about himself.

“You never saw an ocean-dweller before?”

“Oh, no, no, never! Until this week I didn’teven know there were... Uh. So it’s true? It’s not just a show?There really are people who live their whole lives in the water?”

“Of course it’s true.”

“How... It blows my mind every time I thinkabout it! Especially the water! Oh, please can’t you even give ahint on how you get it to do that?”

Aro chuckled. “No hints. They’d harpoon me ifI uttered one word.”

The lion blinked. “They would...? Seriously,they’d do that?”

It caught Aro off guard. It was the number onequestion he got in interviews and normally people laughed when hetold that joke. The press always did. Aro recovered quickly, smiledand patted the lion on the back.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. But I still can’tsay.”

“Oh, I understand, I’m sorry. It’s just... Ican’t help but wonder if...”

Aro waited for him to finish. He didn’t. So heheld out one hand. “I’m Aro. What’s your name?”

“Jhor,” the lion answered, taking his hand.“And—and I gotta say it again—I absolutely love all of you.Just the idea of whole races of people living their whole livesunderwater. I never imagined. There’s so much about the world Idon’t know I’m overwhelmed, and it’s an honor to meet one ofyou. B-but why did you want to meet me? You must see thousands ofpeople every day!”

Aro released Jhor’s hand. “I’ve beenwatching you from offstage all week. I created this show to introducethe land-dwellers to my people, and it makes me so happy to seesomeone enjoy it as much as you have.”

“Oh it’s too fascinating to pass up! I can’tget my mind around it! Entire civilizations of people living in thewater and we never knew about you until a few decades ago! It justdoesn’t seem possible!”

“I’ve often thought about that myself. Yousee, ocean people are taught from a very early age to avoid thesurface people. Venturing onto dry land is forbidden. Anyone who doeswill not be allowed to return, fearing they’ll lead land-dwellersto the tribes to exterminate their enemies and claim more territory.”

“Really? Sounds pretty harsh.”

“It is harsh. That’s why I waited so long todo it. But I had to try. It amazes me that we haven’t made contactsooner. If I were to return now I’d be an outcast, and an orcawithout a pod is all but doomed to die.”

“Oh. So... you’re trapped here?”

“In a sense. But I’ve been lucky.”

“I’ll say! You’re world-famous! Hey, I’msorry but I have to ask. Is it true you’re only twenty-six yearsold?”

“Actually, yes. We don’t age quite the same aspeople of the land.”

“And did you just happen to come up to thesurface in Orlando, or did you come up somewhere else?”

“Believe it or not, this is where I came to thesurface.”

“Why here? Of all the places you could’veended up, why here?”

“The rumors went that land people tended togather where water was warm. I happened to choose this place. Andyou? How does a lion end up here? I thought lions only lived far awayfrom here.”

“Oh, I’m attending school. I’m on holidaywith some of my other classmates. We won this contest for an expensespaid trip to Orlando.”

“Ah, that’s how you can afford five tickets,”Aro said. “And you chose to spend your evenings here night afternight instead of the other attractions?”

“I offered the others to come see the show. Acouple did, and they loved it. But they didn’t want to come see itagain.”

“And yet you did.”

“It’s like a work of art! You can’t see itjust once! How do you rehearse? How do you teach new people to swimin water so thin like that? Has anyone ever been injured?”

Aro was starting to feel dry. “Swimming insuspended water is an exotic experience, even for us. It takes a lotof getting used to. The theater shuts down for a couple weeks everyquarter, and that’s when we prepare new segments. It’s rare weget any new performers though.”

“When was the last time you had one?”

“Two years ago. One of the eels was the last tojoin. He is actually an outcast from the ocean. Please understand,his people are very strict about even going near the surfacecreatures. He went too close and was chased away. It’s very sad.”

“Why strict? Don’t you need air?”

“Air is critical among our civilizations—wealways establish settlements in places where air is plentiful, butit’s never near surface creatures, if it’s ever close to thesurface. The show is often a safe haven for the desperate and—”

“Hey, there’s a rumor going around that youhave someone in the wings! Is that true?”

“What do you mean wings?”

“A new performer in training. You’re savinghim—or her for a big reveal soon. Are you?”

It was not true. Aro was about to state itdirectly, but he had a feeling he should withhold an answer.

“I’m afraid I can’t talk about that either.Another trade secret.”

The lion laughed. “Oh, I understand, sure.Sorry, since I’ve been seeing the show I’ve been talking to a lotof people about it. People say things. Hard to know what the truthis.”

“Is that so? You hear these things a lot?”

“It’s just a fraction of what I’ve heard inthe last week! There’s a lot more! Hard to believe isn’t it?You’re famous all over the world and there are still so manyquestions!”

Aro didn’t respond. Jhor picked up the thoughtimmediately.

“Like that play! For something without a word ofdialogue, it’s amazing how much of a story you can tell! And it’sso basic! There’s nothing to it, but seeing it in person, right infront of me...”

“What did you see?”

“What did I see? In the play?”

“I’m curious. What happened?”

“Well, there was a battle between the sharks andthe dolphins. The sharks won, but there was nothing left.”

Aro waited for him to continue. When he didn’t,he said, “Is that all?”

“Yeah. Is there something else?”

“Well there’s a good deal of history behindthat play. I wrote it in the program.”

“Oh, that. I’m not much of a reader. The playis much more beautiful.”

“Beautiful... It represents a great war, not abattle. Thousands of dolphins and sharks died in it. All over aparcel of territory about the size of this theater and hotel. It wasover the right to catch fish. Thousands dead... over hunting grounds.The fighting scared away all the fish, and they never returned. Iwitnessed that war. The bodies floated just above the ocean floor sothick both sides didn’t swim. They grabbed bodies and climbedthrough the water to fight each other. They used their fallen toshield themselves from attack. It was the most gruesome thing I’veever witnessed. I designed the play to convey that.”

“Oh. Yeah, I’m sorry. It does represent a war.I did read that part. But it’s just beautiful. It’s a powerfulexperience. You should be proud. Were any of the dolphins in the showin that war?”

Aro stared at him. The longer he sat with thelion, the more he felt like he was evading a fish. “Every dolphinand shark who fought in that war is dead. Orcas and the other neutralpeople are the only ones who can tell the story. I wanted to share itwith the land people. It’s a very... solemn and tragic tale. Onethat hurts me personally.”

“I understand. Oh, and you know another rumorthat’s goin’ around? That the dolphins are all gay and they...you know... after every show. They have a room in the hotel togetherand when they’re not performing they’re always—”

“Trade secret,” Aro said.

“Sure, sure! Hey, uh, uh, do you mind if I got apicture of us together here? I wouldn’t forgive myself if I didn’task.”

Jhor was a fish.

Aro habitually switched to fish-handling mode. “Ofcourse.” Aro raised himself out of his seat, stood and posed theway he always did for photo ops. Jhor pulled a phone out of hisshorts, snapped an image of Aro by himself in the theater house. Thenhe stood beside Aro, held the phone at arm’s length and took aquick shot.

“Oh, thanks. That alone made this trip worth it!Thank you so much!”

Aro smiled. “You’re quite welcome. And thankyou for coming. I have to end this now. Have a very good night andthe rest of your trip to Orlando.”

“Can’t get any better than this! Thank you somuch you’ve made my year! Didn’t even know your people existed aweek ago and now I got to talk to you! It’s been an honor! Thankyou!”

“You’re welcome.” Aro backed away from theseats and walked down the aisle to the exit door on the side.

Jhor waved to him. Aro waved back as he pushed thedoor in. He let it shut behind him. Aro lumbered heavily to anotherclosed door off to the side. Aro punched in the code and walked tothe lounge. Everyone was still here. The sharks swam in circles aboveand around the dolphins. The eels lounged on the bottom. Thehumpbacks mingled with everyone. Aro stripped his clothes and dovein. That was the most terrifying fish he’d ever had to deal with.

The ultrasonic questions slammed him like boatanchors.

Aro answered simply. “I was wrong.”

#

The day after meeting Jhor, he asked for acomputer, and for Olis to show him how to use it. Olis turned on thescreen reader feature, then showed him how to use the speech commandsto control the system. It reminded Aro that he needed to learn how toread.

It took Aro a week to get used to using themachine to accomplish even simple tasks, but he had to find out forhimself. All of a sudden he didn’t trust what everyone told him. Bythe second week he was proficient enough to search for articles andnews broadcasts on the theater.

The computer read what people were saying. Helistened to interviews he’d given. It was eerie hearing words he’dspoken repeated by a computer voice, but it gave him a uniqueopportunity to hear the interview from a new point of view. Helistened to the questions now. He noticed his answers—the same kindof answers he tried to give to Jhor and the rest of the fish. Thereporter or king, or prime minister, or other person of media alwaysfollowed up with another question about the show. Usually rumorcontrol.

Even the comments on these stories never discussedthe history Aro spoke of. Nobody read the programs outlining thesignificance of each silent play. Everything was about theperformance and the performers.

Gossip. Hearing the interviews for himself now, herealized that was the majority of the questions he answered. Rumorand gossip.

Aro had also taken to sitting on the couch andwatching television. It was the first time in years he used thecouch. He fumbled with the remote control, far too small for hishands, as he flipped through the channels. He watched news programsmostly, and occasionally he caught mention of the show in some form.He watched his own interviews. He watched specials on the theater andits performers.

Tonight, a month after meeting Jhor, Aro had onlybeen watching TV for ten minutes, but already he felt dry andsmothered by the air. He backed away from the TV and jumped into thepool. As he floated just below the surface, his eyes drifted to thenighttime view of Orlando.

Over the last ten years Aro had dismissed these asthe reactions of fish. Just the normal groupies other actors andcelebrities warned him about. Surely there were people out there whounderstood why he was here.

Everyone he met was a fish. Every world leader,every actor, every creature on the land saw him as a spectacle. Anexotic species from a faraway world for sure, but merelyentertainment.

They told Aro the show was designed to end themystery. By presenting his world on stage for everyone to see, itwould be that much less alien to everyone. Things would change. Withunderstanding, the separation could end.

It was a lie. They weren’t interested in helpingpeople understand; the show was a spectacle, and Aro had let ithappen.

Aro suddenly became conscious of the filtered,heated water and the beautiful view from a swimming pool eightystories up. Extravagance beyond anything that was possibleunderwater.

He had become complacent in land-dweller luxury.The prestige, the popularity and admiration of standing on thispedestal. He had found utopia, and he had let it become his rewardfor venturing out of the ocean, but that was not why he was here.Just like the fish watching him from their seats, he had beenobserving the world of the land-dwellers but not making an effort tobe part of it.

Aro twirled upright and propelled himself out ofthe pool. He slid up the tile floor on his belly, halted himself andstood on his feet. He dried off quickly and picked up the phone.Speed dial number one was pretty much the only number he ever used.

Olis answered. “Hello, Aro?”

“I need to speak with you immediately.”

“Of course. What’s happening?”

“The film deal. What’s the status?”

Olis didn’t have the latest information, but hetold Aro what he knew right now.

“If I’m going to put my performers throughthis, there will have to be some changes.”

“What kind of changes?”

“It will not be a film adaptation of the play.”

“What do you mean?”

“It needs to be a documentary.”

“With respect, Aro, the producers will insiston—”

“They are missing the point!” Aro shouted.“There is a whole civilization down there, and nobody cares! Itisn’t entertainment! Millions of people live and die in the ocean,and it’s time the land-dwellers saw it how it really is!”

Aro didn’t even listen to the lapine’sobjections of how documentaries make only a fraction of what ahigh-budget spectacle production would earn. Aro cut him off.

“I’m tired of this machine between us. Pleasemeet me.”

Aro hung up. Immediately he dove into the pool and swam in circles.He felt like he was hunting again. Yes, he was supposed to chase thefish. He was the hunter. Not them.