Blue

Hebe Zhu

It's been so quiet since the humans died.

Gone are the honking ships and the scratchy noise of an anchor sinking down into the seabed. No more engines roaring to life, parting the water surface and leaving trails of disturbed waves and the bitter taste of fossil oil and petrochemical residues behind.

The only sounds of life now are the murmurs of sea creatures: the chipper-chatter of clownfish; the high-pitched playful giggles of dolphins; the melodic whistles of orcas; the rhythmic calls of humpback whales…

And the tide.

The tide never goes out. With all its encompassing power, the ocean ripples with a soothing harmony, beckoning its children to form a choir of serenity.

They're finally united through rage and ruin.

Perched on a lovely hump coral that belongs to what was once known as The Great Barrier Reef, the mermaid Blue contemplates the recent extinction of the humans: a species that had met their demise at their own hands, and joined their predecessor, the dinosaurs, as cautionary tales that belonged in the history books.      

‘How tragic,’ they wonder to themselves.

All those lives lost—left behind in the echoes of the past, a song forever incomplete.

The sky wept for weeks, as it collapsed into the ocean's crushing embrace. Blue had tasted its tears and found a familiar ache deep within their soul.

“The sky wept for weeks, as it collapsed into the ocean’s crushing embrace.”

They had felt that same aching sensation for the pale skeletons of dying reefs, releasing stress signals and helplessly letting go of the algae that gave them their exuberant hues.

"Please, just calm down, everything's going to be okay." Blue had pleaded. But the panicking corals had writhed in pain and screamed: "It's too hot, it's too hot!"

Humans believed that mermaids could cry tears of pearl or diamond, or their tears had magical healing properties. But in reality, they cried just like the humans did: with a salty bitterness that left a burning sensation etched on your skin.

The ocean swallows your tears quicker than a blink. They never last here, down at the bottom of the world.

Moments like these make Blue wish that they really are living in a fairytale, that their tears could mend wounds and cure disease, that a kiss could fix a broken heart.

But they aren’t.

So instead, Blue weeps and watches, forlornly, as the water temperature rises and brittle bones begin to shatter.

Sometimes, Blue reminisces about the life they once had.

They remember the early mornings when they would rise to shore, daylight breaking into the water and casting an iridescent shadow. Birds either chattering away or orchestrating beautiful harmonies, making Blue giddy with their melodic tunes. Sometimes they would begin to sing as well, just to join this joyful union. In the distance, a flock of sheep were munching on the dewy grass, occasionally a lost little lamb would stray from its herd then was chased back by the big, burly shepherd dog, its terrified shrieks never not amusing to hear for Blue.

"I think I miss the penguins the most," says Maggie, a pistol shrimp with claws so sharp they gleamed a threatening sheen even underwater. "They used to come by and tell me all sorts of stories about Antarctica—and oh how I wished I could see it myself!"

Maggie and her best friend, a goby fish named Klein, are some of Blue's closest friends.

They are quite the peculiar pair.

Maggie gathers resources and builds little burrows for the both of them to inhabit, and Klein is her dutiful guard, keeping an eye out for nearby predators due to his dear friend's poor eyesight. In nature, their unlikely partnership was called the work of "symbiosis", something the humans never really learned to achieve.

Klein nods his head, his bright yellow dorsal fins almost translucent under the light. "Yes, and the seals—when they're not in the mood to chase us around."

Blue misses the animals that used to occupy the lands. Sometimes it's almost as if they’re still there. That their laughter and roars still ring through their ears from time to time.

But they are gone.

With the humans being the last of the terrestrial animals to go, the aquatic animals remain the only living species on this planet—now the Earth might never be able to live up to its past glory. Where there used to exist a balance between land and water, now a gaping hole is forever present in the absence of their other half. And the ones that've been left behind are struggling to cope with its loss, while simultaneously trying to patch up the burns and bruises all on their own. It's like losing a limb: your body no longer knows how to function. 

A gentle nudge wakes Blue from their contemplative stupor.

"What's on your mind? You have that look of restless sorrow on your face again." Klein urges, not unkindly.

Blue tries to give their friend a reassuring smile, but it comes out more of a frown.

"No reason, I just feel sad all of a sudden." Blue sighs.

"Hmm," says Maggie, clicking her claws. The snapping sound echoes around them, creating tiny swirling whirlpools. "I think everyone is sad, we're just in different shades of blue."

Klein laughs, his fins flapping, "Maggie the philosopher!"

Blue was able to give out a real smile this time, glad to have their friends around to remind them they are not alone in this terribly lonesome existence.

They consider Maggie's words, and think of a song that was once sung by a human singer. A song that shares their name. Blue still remembers the lyrics and chords vividly, had chanted the words time and time again in their head, reminding themselves not to forget.

But memories fade. With it, the legacy of the past washes away, like sand slipping through your grasp. You try to hold onto it, but you can only catch a glimpse of an empty shell of what once was.

When the tide rushes out, all that’s left are the skeletons of the things we once loved.

And just like that, Blue is sad again.

Day and night seem to blend into one in the depths of this endless, overwhelming blueness. Both dark and light dance to the enchanting rhythms of a calming symphony, that is only meant to be heard down here, coexisting like they were meant to from the start.

As Blue soothingly caresses the petals of a beautiful flowerpot coral, the coral shyly waves back at them, its flexible polyps not as active as during its primes, but is slowly and steadily nursing back to health.

So the victims survive, while the perpetrators perish.

Humans never seemed to understand that no one could be the winner of this vicious cycle of life and death. They were blinded by their urge to gain dominance and have everything under control when there were many things uncontrollable in this world. This insatiable greed for power was what led them to the doom of their existence—for power is not a thing to be had.

They had such small and fragile bodies and yet they were capable of causing such enormous amount of pain and destruction. Flimsy beings at their core, yet they thought themselves indestructible, with their ever-advancing technologies and metal towers far, far away from the ground. Armed to the teeth with science and ambition, somehow they ignored and forgot the beauty and power of nature—of which they themselves were born.

Thus, when the time of the destruction of their own kind came, they could do nothing but cower, powerlessly, as a motherless child, under the simmering wrath of the creator of all things, who had lost too much and was finally taking back what had been given out.

They were not always like this though.

Blue glides silently through the water, gills catching on a tinge of melancholy.

Humans were not always just vessels for violence, fear and abomination. Once, they were able to create beauty with their hands instead of destroying it.

They wrote poetries and sang songs about peace and a better future.

Blue still holds a lot of human literature very close to their heart, had laughed and cried with those passages of eternal wisdom and had hoped the human language and their way of communication would continue to pass down onto generations and generations of curious minds...Now everything lies in the ruins of what once was, all those beauties and sparks lost. 

They mourn—like how they would mourn for the bare, decaying skeletons of reefs and their fallen sisters and brothers—for the loss of a promising design that could've reached great length and flourished in prosperity.

If only they had learned to coexist in mutualism with other species.

Like Maggie and Klein.

Like the ocean and the sky.

The humans were right about one thing though: Mermaids love singing.

And when they sing, the world stops to listen.

Surrounded by friends and the ever-present presence of water, Blue closes their eyes and begins to hum a melody. Maybe one day it will be forgotten, but not today:

‘Blue

Here is a shell for you

Inside you’ll hear a sigh

A foggy lullaby’

Their voice is coloured with the same shade of blue that became their name—vibrant yet with a muffled sombre undertone.

It resonates, through tranquil water and feral torrents.

‘There is your song from me.’