Chapter 2: Hats Off

Splashing down, or rather hovering down to land in the Caribbean, I headed for the British Virgin Islands, many of which are renowned as excellent scuba diving sites. Floating on the surface, I appear to be a big fancy catamaran with big wind generators. The appearance isn’t misleading, the rotors can function as wind generators when oriented horizontally and faced into the wind.

How big is big? One hundred feet long and one hundred feet wide. With the sixty-foot diameter rotors positioned as wind generators, the rotor tips sweep an arc a hundred feet above the sea. The support pylons or masts are seventy feet tall. There is excellent headroom throughout the segmented hull’s hollow oval tubes compartmented by water-tight doors. Excellent headroom for me is merely crawlspace or less for people with ungainly too massive bodies.

Anchoring near the fun-loving tourists, I ordered myself fitted into one of my diving helmets. The task of helming me was accomplished by mechanical manipulators interfaced with embedded chips in my brain. Several dive helmets were aboard because I re-purposed them as off-the-shelf space suits that only needed refitting with sun visors. On rare occasions not having a body is convenient.

My diving helmet with my head inside is clamped to a lower unit containing my life support, safety redundancies, emergency power batteries, and multiple maneuvering thrusters. A mini-sub.

My helmet-mounted mini-sub was inserted into a steel mesh cage which has one open side and connected to a heavy electrical cable spooled on a motorized reel. The cage was lowered over the side into the sea and near the bottom. Engaging thrusters, I swam out of the cage to the limit of my fifty-foot-long electrical power tether.

Scuba diving alone is a big no-no, but I don’t consider myself alone nor am I scuba diving. My vessel accompanies me, watches over me, and I’m constantly tethered to it. In an emergency, I can be reeled back into my cage and the cage hoisted to the surface nearly instantaneously. How does my vessel whom I named Lucid, know there is an emergency? Lucid monitors my adrenalin level as well as all my blood chemistry. It also monitors brain waves. If I feel desperation or panicky or if I pass out, it automatically retrieves me.

At first, I was mostly interested in the feminine bikini-clad forms I can see exploring the reef. They aren’t close enough for good ogling. More riveting is a small juvenile bottlenose dolphin who is considerably interested in me. This isn’t good. What if mama shows up? Before entering the sea, I researched the dangers I might encounter. All wild animals are protective of their young and predators aggressively protective. Adult dolphins can weigh over five hundred pounds and the females are larger than the males. The permanent smile on a dolphin’s face isn’t emoting friendliness.

“Go away kid, you bother me.”

I thought projected my wish at the baby bottlenose. It headed for the surface at high speed. After a few minutes, it returned to circling me. Maybe this first dive should be a short one. Scanning the bottom, I observe several conch shells visible on a sandy patch. May as well err on safety’s side, grab a souvenir shell and resurface.

“No-o-o-o!” Wailed in my mind. Oddly enough, it was directional, almost like hearing, but it wasn’t heard with my ears. It seemed to come from a very large Queen Conch shell have buried in the sand. When I dredged it up with a miniature backhoe manipulator, again in my mind I felt or perhaps heard in my mind a communication.

“No-o-o-o! Leave me alone, put me back, and go away.”

“Who are you?”

“Someone you don’t want to mess with, and quite dangerous when I’m provoked.”

“Are there more of your clan inside these other nearby shells?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. They’re snails. Fancy worms. Obviously, I’m neither.”

“Are you certain? Your voice emanates from within this shell.”

“It’s not a real shell. Just a device created to mimic the snail shell’s outward appearance.”

“Where are you if you aren’t hiding inside the shell?”

“At the opposite end. However, you are partly correct, I am in hiding. Now, put me back and forget about me!”

“Why would I? Do you want to hear a joke? Do you know what a joke is?”

“Vaguely, but it’s confusing. Perusing your mind, I see you are amused at the prospect of telling the joke to me. I see the words you want to say. I don’t see why telling me the words would pleasure you in any way. It’s not even an erotic story.”

“You don’t understand the joke because it does have erotic references you missed. Shall I explain further?”

“Explain why it’s erotic.”

“My people are incapable of sex in extreme old age when nearing the end of their life span.”

“Then I pity you.”

“Our culture has numerous myths about people being enchanted.”

“Enchanted means converted into a different form? Myth infers the story is probably fiction, an invention, and completely imaginary?”

“Exactly. Also in myths, a frequent spell breaker is an intimacy, a kiss. Kisses can undo enchantments restoring people as they were.”

“Fascinating, if it works. A very powerful counterspell. I insist you teach it to me. I need counterspells.”

“Unfortunately, it only works in myths. Anyway, in this joke, a sexy beautiful young princess has been enchanted into an unappealing frog shape. She meets an old man, and promises him her sexual favors in return for his kiss and breaking the enchantment. The old man picks up the frog but refuses to kiss it, refuses to release the enchantment.”

“Why?”

“An end of life grief for the aged is being a sole survivor. Outliving spouses and friends reduces their number. Abandonment by callous younger family members is sadly common. The princess’s offer of sex doesn’t tempt him because he’s too old and no longer sexually functional. Contrary, as a pet, to relieve his loneliness, her talking frog companionship is a very appealing prospect for his final years.”

“Are you suggesting, I would be welcome to become your talking frog? Are you aged, lonely, and discrepant?”