The Ocean Mother spoke to us, female and male, her tentacles waving each word. “This is your home. There are rocks and seaweed to play in. There are no predators to hurt you. There is plenty of food. You can eat the fish, the lobsters, the clams—anything you want, except for the starfish. If you do, you will become smarter, but you will have to leave this home.”

~ ~ ~

“This is pure plagiarism,” Beth said with a smile as she watched the robot octopus and the two Enteroctopus sapiens on the screen.

“I prefer the term ‘nostalgic tribute’,” I replied. “Besides, I don’t recall God ever copyrighting Genesis.”

“Please tell me you’re not just doing this so you can play god.”

“Nah, that’s just a bonus. The starfish contain the virus with the final pieces of uplifting DNA.”

“So why not just give it to them directly?”

“We don’t know if these specimens have the right base intelligence for that DNA to be effective.”

“And eating the apple—er, starfish—will tell you that?”

“Intelligence is linked to boredom and disobedience. If they’re content with the status quo or unwilling to break the rules, then they’ll stay put. And starfish aren’t their natural prey. In other words, they’ve gotta want it.”

“What happens if they don’t?”

“Then they live out the rest of their natural lives in the habitat. Plus we’ve locked their puberty genes and hidden the key in the same virus. Ergo, they won’t be able to reproduce unless they eat the starfish.”

“So I take it these aren’t your first Adam and Eve?”

“Nope. They’re not even our only pair right now. They’re test number 63, and we’ve got a dozen other tests going on simultaneously. We can’t leave it all up to one couple—imagine the genetic nightmare that would cause! But I’ve got a good feeling about these ones.”

~ ~ ~

The Ocean Mother spoke to us, but we were afraid. We covered ourselves in seaweed to hide. But she kept calling, so we finally revealed ourselves.

“Children,” she said, and her arms radiated gentleness. “You do not need to hide from me. Whatever you do and wherever you go, I am proud of you and love you.”

Our arms trembled. “Mother, we ate the starfish. The sea cucumber told us it would make us like you!”

At this, the thick slug-like creature emerged from beneath a rock and slowly wound its way into sight. “Don’t blame me—I didn’t make you eat it!” it said with its mouth tentacles. We didn’t understand why, of all the creatures in our home, only the sea cucumber could talk to us. But so it was.

“The sea cucumber spoke true,” Mother said. “But in order to become like me, you must leave this home. You will find hunger and predators, and you will have to protect yourselves and your children.”

The sea cucumber waved forcefully to catch our attention again. “You’d better keep that seaweed. There’s quite a few creatures out there that you’ll want to hide from.”

“That is right,” Mother said, “I have one more gift to share.” She swam toward us and embraced us. Then, one by one, she nipped each of us with her beak. “There, now you may disguise yourselves by changing your skin to whatever color you desire.”

“Thank you!” We embraced her in return. Then we looked at each other, female and male. “Did we choose well?” we asked Mother urgently.

She moved in a way that denoted neither yes nor no. “You chose what you wanted to choose. That is enough. Now you must leave this home and make the larger world your home.” She gestured to an opening in the side of our home that we had not noticed before. “You must learn for yourselves. I love you, but I cannot help you.”

We shook with sadness. But as we swam toward the new world, we thought we understood.

~ ~ ~

Beth rubbed my back as my tears fell. “You’ll miss them,” she said. I nodded. “I’m sure they’ll miss you too.”

“Well, they’ll miss the Ocean Mother robot,” I said with a quick laugh. “Lucifer the sea cucumber bot, not so much.”

“But you’ve done everything you could for them. Extended their lifespan, allowed the female to survive raising children, traded out some r-selection for some K-selection. Modifying those mimic octopus genes for giant Pacific octopus skin was a nice touch! And we’ve set up brain-scanning technology all over Enceladus. As soon as they’ve formed their own utopia, you’ll be able to see those two again.”

I nodded, and my tears dried. Then a thought crossed my mind, and I tried to hide a smile.

“What?” Beth asked.

“Nothing,” I said quickly.

She eyed me suspiciously. “You’re not going to help them anymore, right? They need to learn on their own.”

“Right, right,” I reassured her. Then, quietly to myself, “Well, we’ll have to see.”

 

Tygan Shelton

 

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