Endangered Species It is estimated that every ten minutes, a new species is discovered on the planet Earth. It is also estimated that in five, an entire species is wiped off the planet forever. The Skull Catfish is an example of such a species. Dr. Jordan Lewming sat at a table at an outdoor café. He stared through his thick prescription glasses at his reflection in his coffee for an hour. He knew it was cold, and didn’t want to drink it. Cold coffee to him tasted like someone scraped the rust off a box of nails and mixed it with vanilla extract. He scratched his thick grey mustache, and wondered if he could possibly ask the waitress to warm it back up for him. Then he wondered if it would cost him money. Dr. Lewming was a professor of Biology and Environmental Studies at Sanford-Miser University. He hated his class, his students, and the university itself. No one took him seriously. He knew they talked about him constantly, they criticized his life, his look, his teaching. It didn’t help that Lewming was a lonely old man with thick glasses and a fifties wardrobe. It also didn’t help that he graded the most harshly out of any of his colleagues. He sometimes thought that it was out of hate, that he would fail kids on purpose for revenge. But it wasn’t, he loved what he did and he loved what he taught. Prior to being a professor, he was a scientist. A degree-granted, office and laboratory having scientist employed by the government as an environmental expert. Lewming is the one who helped shutdown the Valdez site, and an advisor to the attorney who prosecuted Exxon. Yes, Lewming had an exciting life, and a history of secrets, but very little patience. The cold, empty university hallway resounded every step he made. Lewming was on his way to a lecture, just another lecture on another Thursday, with just another hundred or so angry and bitter students. He often walked with his head down, staring at his feet, his briefcase swinging at his side. And he did today. He hated this hallway, this hallway in particular. It was a mint, hospital green with black and white checkered floors. Actually, it was probably the fact that this hallway reminded him of a hospital that he hated so much. He always expected to round a corner and see a body on a gurney, or stainless steel double doors leading to the morgue. It’s a fear he’s had since he was a child. The idea that he could get lost in the endless labyrinth that hospital hallways became when he panicked. He always hated doctors. If he was sick, he’d wait it out. He’d have to be dying in order to find himself checking into a receptionist. He finally pushed through the large brown double doors at the end of the hallway, and made his way into the auditorium. The auditorium could hold about six hundred people, assuming that every seat was taken up, and everyone liked each other. In front of the audience was the high-rise stage, it reminded Lewming of sketches he’d seen of the Shakespeare’s Globe Theater. Lewming made his way up the awkward side steps up onto the stage and up to the podium. A small humming overhead projector sat beside him staring at an enormous white screen that hung across the stage like a window curtain. He’s always wanted to write, “I hate you all”, on the projector before he switched it on, then just go on with the presentation as if nothing was there. Lewming cleared his throat, and opened his briefcase. He never, ever, looked at the audience; he had this fear that if he did he would freeze up and start stuttering. And since barely anyone had the guts to ask a question, he never needed to. Lewming laid out on the projector, a clear sheet of plastic with some anatomical-drawings on them. Cross sections of a fish. This month’s focus has been on marine biology, and the effect the environment has on mutation. A lot of sleepers, no one cared. The microphone gave feedback as Lewming’s mouth got closer to it. “Good morning,” he moused out. The auditorium fell deathly silent, only the rustling of paper and feet could be heard. His teeth moved behind his lips in nervousness, this only added to his uneasiness because his thick mustache wiggled as he did so and he was afraid everyone would start laughing. They didn’t. “Following up on last week, Environmental Effect and Mutation in Coastal Marine Life, Beck twenty-six. A group of Californian scientists discovered trace amounts of mercury in-“ the projector shut off. The auditorium became deathly black, the only light came from the exit-signs above the two rear doors. “Oh, shit” for some reason were the only words that came out of Dr. Lewming’s mouth. The audience erupted in laughter. A cold cup of coffee, and a sullen reflection stared Lewming back in the face. He hated the world, and the events earlier only made him hate it more. His reflection rippled suddenly in the cup causing him to instantly look up to what should have been the empty seat across from him. A man in a tropical t-shirt and glasses stared back. “Professor Lewming?” the mystery man asked. “Yes,” the professor responded. “Professor Lewming, I was told to see you and you only. My name is Gregor Hulles and I have something you have to see.” The professor quirked an eyebrow, then quickly gave the scene a look over. “What is it?” Gregor shifted his glasses on his face, and looked up to the sun. He nervously started to tap the middle knuckle on his index finger against the table. Finally he took off his glasses, “A fisherman down in Mexico was sitting out on his boat one day, when all of a sudden his boat was almost knocked over. Then he sees his fishing pole almost bending in half, so he grabs it and starts tugging and yanking trying to pull in this obviously huge fish. Well, about an hour later, he finally gets the son of a bitch in. A catfish-“ ”That’s it? A catfish?” Lewming asked. “I’m not done yet. Well, so he pulls the catfish up, reaches over with a hook and really sees how big this damn thing is. It’s huge, about twenty something feet long, and it’s way too big to bring on the boat. So he ropes it to the side, and starts to haul it in. Well, he gets back to the coast, and finally gets a look at this thing. Now the description we originally got, didn’t come from him but from a little girl who was there when he got back. She said it was about twenty feet long, and pitch black. Dead black. Well, despite how black this thing was, it’s head had a distinctive pattern to it. It was all white, except for the area around the mouth, and the eyes, they were black as well. Basically, if you looked at it from the front it looked like a skull. A human skull. Somewhere along the line it became, “El niño perdido del infierno”. The lost child of hell.” Gregor took a deep breath, but he still didn’t look finished. “So they found an abnormally large catfish and they want me to take a look at it?” the professor queried scratching his mustache. “Oh, I wish. It’s much cooler. Well, apparently our big boy is cursed, or so they believe. And when I say they, I mean the tiny costal fishing village of Quezicoma. It was right off the coast there where they found him. There’s caves under water, yadda, yadda, yadda....” Gregor sat back and picked up a spoon. “Apparently big boy is a legend down there. Said to eat children who wander too far off the coast. Everyone’s afraid of it, they were glad to give it to us. They thought we were gonna kill it for them. Fuck that!” Gregor started to laugh, but immediately realized his useless it was. The professor just stared. Lewming stroked his mustache, entranced in thought. “Where’s it at?” “A lab in Freeport.” “When do you want me to see it?” “Right now. Right damn now. They’re doing tests on it, and they’re finding some really neat stuff. Really, it’s right up your alley.” Again, Lewming went to stroking his mustache. “Okay.” A thick steel electronic door slid to the side with a whir and a click. The lab was dark, the entire damn place had an eerie teal glow to it. Far against the back wall, was a huge tank. It took up the entire wall, and the glow seemed to emanate from it. There were hundreds of wires, and pumps, and tubes running into the tank, and there was a dull hum filling the room. Next to the tank there was a man in a grey sweater and khakis staring at the enormous fish. “Mr. Burr, this is Professor Lewming,” Gregor said this like a game show host introducing an audience member. Mr. Burr quickly turned around, with a huge smile on his face. “Professor, Dr. Lewming what an honor,” Burr shook his hand as if he was planning on stealing it. “No one has ever said that to me before, about it being an honor to meet me.” Lewming approached the enormous tank in awe, and couldn’t help but stare at the size of this beast. Burr quickly joined Lewming’s side and put his hand on the tank. “Oh but it is, you’re a hero of this department. We basically live by your theories and essays. You’re our Jesus.” Normally Lewming would give some sharp remark about Jesus and religion in general, but right now he could care less. This monster was huge, and scary. He’d never seen an animal so frightening in appearance. It was just as Gregor described, it was dead black from head to toe, except for a pattern on the head. A skull pattern. What was more disturbing was the fact that there were no meshing colors, there were no grey or brownish areas, not even when the black and white met. This fish was two colors, black and white. Dead black, and cloud white. Through his amazement, Lewming had completely ignored the most distinguished characteristic about this thing, it was floating in the middle of the tank. No fin movement, no tail movement. It was perfectly still except for the rhythmic movement that indicated that it was breathing. “How the hell does it do that?” Lewming asked. “Oh, you mean float? How does it float there in the middle of the damn tank without moving at all? Yeah, that bothered us as well, and we still can’t figure it out. All we really know about it is that it produced an enormous amount of electricity. More than any creature on the planet. That’s the hum you hear.” Mr. Burr turned to Gregor and nodded. Lewming looked deep into the tank, looking to see if he could find a wire, or an extra appendage. Nothing. Then he looked to the top of the tank, at the surface of the water. It was gently rippling. “The pumps.” Lewming moved over to the enormous, wall size machine next to the tank. “It’s the pumps. The pumps fire the water downwards, which cause them to bounce back up. He’s floating on the current. Look at the surface of the water, it’s moving.” “No, actually, that’s the electricity.” Lewming’s head shot in Burr’s direction so fast it should have broken his neck. “It’s the what?!” “It’s the electricity. It’s producing so much that it’s making the water quiver.” Burr put some distance between him and Lewming. “That’s ridiculous. The tank should have exploded by now, everything should have shorted. There’s no way I hell that that’s the electricity.” “Wanna stick your hand in there and find out?” Lewming looked back to the tank and then to a small step stool beside it. Right now, both Gregor and Dr. Burr were thinking, “What the hell is this man doing?” No one ever told them that Lewming loved his work dearly, and was willing to risk life and limb to prove a point. He placed one hand on the side of the tank, he could feel the buzz. It made his nose itch. He slowly balanced himself on the stool, and reach up over the tank. The buzz grew louder and louder as he stood at his full height. “Dr. Lewming, it’s highly unwise to be up there, and even more stupid to be doing what you’re doing right now.” Lewming didn’t here, he was already reaching over the brim of the tank, and his fingers were only inches from the water. Now, he doesn’t really remember what happened next or what was said, or by whom. He just remembers hitting the ground. His head smacking hard against the floor, and his back doing the same. It turns out that, for the most part, one of them said “What’s it doing?” and the other said, “Dr. Lewming, please get down here!” both being shouted of course. He awoke with Burr staring him straight in the face, a flashlight pointed directly into his eyes. “Dr. Lewming? Can you hear me?” shouted Burr. “Yes! Dammit! What happened?!” Lewming shouted back. “We don’t know. The fish kinda, twitched, and thrashed the tank. The power surged and we guess the shock sent you flying. “You had air.” said Gregor from the back somewhere. “Hey, Doc. That might be what happened to the fisherman, something electrical probably fucked up in his body. Same with the girl.” Burr’s eyes shifted, he tried to shut Gregor up, but it was too late. “What happened?” questioned Lewming. “The fisherman, the guy who found Big Boy, died the morning after. His heart basically exploded, they said it was heart attack. Pretty big heart attack for a twenty-five year old fisherman if you ask me.” Burr said this all with deep remorse in his voice. “What happened to the girl?” “She was playing on a series of tall rocks on the beach, near her house. She slipped on one while she was climbing around, fell between two of them, and snapped her neck. This all supports the curse idea, that’s probably why they were so eager to hand him over to us.” Burr stood up, helping the professor up as well. “So that’s why you called me in. Not because you found some big catfish, you want me to figure out what this fish is doing.” Lewming sneered. “No, actually, that’s far from it. We called you in because it WAS a biological anomaly, however finding out why people are dropping left and right because of this thing is a bonus. Maybe it is the electricity, maybe it’s something else. It has a pronounced frontal lobe, meaning it has highly advanced communication skills. But what would this thing need that for? We’ve only found one. And that’s probably all we’re going to find. Since we’ve had him, we’ve determined he’s only about fifty years old, which isn’t bad for a big fish like him. So it’s not some coelacanth parody. We called you in because this fish could make history. You hear about the rockfish poison they were using to treat cancer? Or the sunfish oil they were using to improve eyesight? Fish alone are responsible for dozens of medicinal substances that we use to this day. I bet, living deep inside this guy, is something amazing.” The professor just stared, he looked from Burr to Gregor. Then back to Burr. “Why aren’t you two afraid of it?” the professor asked. “Oh you mean the curse? Professor, this is science.” It was a hard decision, there was the overwhelming idea of being involved with a scientific discovery of a lifetime racing through his mind. However, he was never one to rush into things, and was still unsure if being anywhere near that fish was reasonably safe at all. It had already shown itself to be uncooperative, and unpredictable. “I’ll stay with this for a week. If I find nothing after a week, then there’s nothing to be found. Then you take this damn thing out to the ocean, and you forget about it. Right?” Burr and Gregor were wearing ear-to-ear smiles. “Of course, welcome aboard professor.” Burr reached his hand out for a shake. The professor just walked away. God these guys needed a life. A week went by. Lewming ran everything he could on this animal. And besides an over abundance of electricity coursing through it’s body, there was nothing unusual. Nothing that he could find at least. His nights were lonely, him and that fish staring at each other unblinking. He could almost feel what it was feeling, see in his head what it was thinking. It looked like it had a soul, and purpose unlike most of the things he’d prodded under a microscope. He felt that it was his job to ensure that this animal made its way back into the ocean. And true to their word, they released Big Boy back into the ocean. Under the careful supervision of the professor. He watched it’s deep black eyes disappear under the surface of the water and disappear into the murk. He wasn’t sure who was more sad to see him go, Burr or himself. The week after, the professor found himself walking back down those same damn hospital-esque hallways to the auditorium. He stared at his feet, and his briefcase banged endlessly against his leg. But today, he didn’t really feel sick to his stomach. He didn’t care. In fact, he hadn’t even combed his hair, or ironed his shirt. He just didn’t care. Maybe it was post-separation depression. He was worried, deep inside that Big Boy might be scooped up again by Burr and his team when his back was turned. The professor banged through the doors, and up the side steps and onto the stage. Past the humming overhead, and up to the podium. He looked out at all of those kids, none of which missed him. None of which cared. “Good morning,” he moused out. He felt weird up there for some reason. But overall, he didn’t care. His back had been hurting him, probably from the fall. The auditorium fell deathly silent, only the rustling of paper and feet could be heard. “Following up on last week’s discussion-“ it felt like some enormous individual was pressing down on his chest. Then his legs went numb, and he collapsed to the floor. Burr and Gregor still didn’t believe in curses. They didn’t believe in them when Gregor died in a car accident and Burr had a aneurism. I guess, no one really will. Lewming never did either, in fact that morning all he could think of was how hard he hit that floor. How he might have pinched a nerve, or loosened a disc. That’s what the autopsy had shown. He had pinched a vital nerve, and blood vessel in his back. The fall is probably what did it. The reason he didn’t die sooner was that the pinching was gradual, his constant moving is what worsened it. He always hated doctors. I guess, the curse in itself was true. At least, that’s what the tiny fishing village of Quezicoma believed. –thedexter