Shallow Breath

55

Desi




Desi moves forward and slips silently into the sea as soon as the police van begins to move, watching it join a procession of others, sirens blazing, racing around the harbour front in the direction of Dolphin Resort.

The water around her is rancid and grey, contaminated by the boats coming in and out. As she descends and swims the short distance to the dolphin pens, she considers how much the creatures have already been poisoned by their surroundings, forced to swim round in endless circles amid all this pollution. She has had to endure the noise of their frantic splashing and whistling as she waited these past few hours in the dark. Now, beneath the surface, each distinctive note of distress drills its way through her, leaving her body haunted and cold.

As soon as she spots the ropes, she becomes aware of movement. There is lots of activity here, grey and white bodies streaking past, hounded by unseen forces. In other circumstances, she would be mesmerised. Now there is no time for anything except her mission.

The equipment they have given her is good. The ropes are easier to cut than she expected, and the early morning light filters through to help her. One by one, she pulls the barriers apart.

The false killer whales and pantropical spotted dolphins are quick to get through the gaps she has made. She is elated as they disappear. The Pacific white-sided dolphins don’t go immediately, but they are alert, swimming around the pen as though debating the risk. However, the Risso’s dolphins worry her. They stay away from the holes. In the end, she decides to go to them.

As she swims across, they barely stir. She gets closer and closer until she is practically part of their huddle. Their small eyes never leave her. ‘Trust me,’ she urges them mentally, wishing she could transmit her intentions. ‘Go. Please, go.’

But neither of them move. In the next pen, the Pacific white-sided pair have disappeared. Perhaps these two are irreversibly traumatised, she decides sadly, resigning herself. If all the others have gone, at least the fishermen will take some care with them, since they will be the only valuable animals left.

She swims towards the opening she has made. As she goes through, it takes her a moment to realise she has lost momentum. She redoubles her efforts, but her finning is no longer moving her forward.

She is stuck.




What would you change?

The question clings to her like a parasite as she drops her tank to free herself. It grips on through her desperate ascent, hitches a ride as she swims frantically, and chases her over the rocks. As the men close in on her, she tries to respond, propelling her mind faster and faster, charting the course of her life in reverse. She goes deep into her childhood, as far back as she can remember, but finds nothing of interest. She changes direction, winding the reel forward now, closing in, surely, on the answer she is seeking. But nothing she touches on seems quite right. Her past sinks away from her like scattered stones. It is pointless to drown in a tide of unalterable regret.

Only as she is pushed onto the bottom of a rocking boat, and an angry man screams in her face, does something shift.

It isn’t a question, after all. She wasn’t searching for an answer, but a memory.




They are lying on the deck, watching the wind toying with a few wisps of cloud.

‘If you could alter one thing about the world,’ Connor begins, ‘what would you change?’

‘I’d get rid of evil,’ she replies without hesitation.

To her surprise, Connor laughs. ‘I don’t believe in evil. It’s not a supernatural power. Don’t ever call anyone evil – the ignorant don’t deserve that kind of status.’

‘You don’t believe in evil at all?’ she asks in surprise.

‘No, I believe in goodness. Evil, on the other hand, is an absolute lack of goodness, and it’s so shocking when we see it that we’ve given it a name, and made it into something powerful. But it’s a negative. It’s empty. It’s nothing.’

‘So what would you change about the world, then, Mr Know-It-All?’



Connor sits up, and she can sense his excitement. ‘I’d change the nature of memory. I’d make it so we could remember everything, not just the edited highlights. Right back to when we were babies – before we had any tools at our disposal, particularly language – before we learnt absolutely anything about the world. Imagine if we could recall everything from our time in the womb onwards. If we didn’t forget so much of the past, perhaps we wouldn’t even need to change the future.’

‘Do you want to change the future?’

He laughs. ‘Only if it isn’t with you.’




She is struck across the cheek with something hard, and it returns her to herself. As she is hit again, she cries out and tries to speak, but they will never understand. There is blood in her mouth as they clutch and scream at her. If she could find the right words to explain, would it make any difference? If she could level with them, would they see beneath her skin?

She rolls onto her side and coughs, splattering red onto the deck. She sees a gap in the boat’s rails and tries to shimmy towards it, but she is quickly roped to the side. She is theirs now. Theirs to determine what happens next.

As the boat turns towards the harbour, she glimpses the horizon. The early morning sun is untethered from the night, floating towards the sky. Specks of dancing light begin to catch the water, and it looks for all the world as though the stars have fallen to the sea.