Saltwater assailed Jun’s nose and eyes as he struggled to orient himself. He flailed for a grip onto something, anything, solid to steady himself. As his chest began to grow tight, he felt a grip around his waist, yanking him forward.
Jun broke the surface and breathed in the sweet ocean air. He finally looked around and noticed Alcar holding him and swimming towards the edge of Che’el. Strength slowly returned to Jun’s limbs, but he was far from ready to swim by the time Alcar pushed him onto the island and immediately swam back into the ocean. Jun stared into the sky, chest heaving, and felt the static fade from his mind, replaced by growing recollection. The distant island approached, then…
Then, it dove. What had happened to the people on it? Jun sat up quickly, feeling his head fuzz again, and looked out to the ocean where the island had surfaced. Then he noticed the devastation upon Che’el, which triggered the final memory of a rising crest, towering over him, then rushing down to scour the surface of everyone and everything. Jun looked back and saw swimmers retrieving whomever they could find surfacing amongst the waves.
It was then that Jun saw Jora, a hundred feet away, appearing to float just above the water. He then noticed Elys holding Jora up, her own face dipping underwater more often than not. Jun braced himself, then dove towards them.
The inhabitants of Che’el huddled together, cold, hungry, and exhausted. Their island was washed bare by the force of the colossal wave, food, shelter, and freshwater all gone. Some people had cobbled together rafts from the few recovered pieces of wood, but it would be some time before they were able to return with sustenance and assistance.
Jun sat quietly with his family, listening to the snippets of conversation drifting through the crowd. Thankfully he had spotted Elys and Jora and was able to help them back. From what he heard, not every family was so lucky. And while a vast majority of Che’el’s people had made it back, only two of the other island’s people were found alive at all. Too many more must have drowned as they clung to their island, expecting it to support them as it always had.
In the next few hours, rafts approached at an accelerating rate, bearing food, water, and materials for shelter. Upon delivering their payloads, most also took whomever they had space for back to other islands. Eventually, some rafts came bearing historians, including Karu and Rusik, and Jun stood to meet them. He began to narrate in halting words when Karu raised a hand to stop him. “Rest and take care Jun,” she said solemnly. “We are here to help Che’el first, and record history second.”
Jun nodded and trudged back towards his family. As he sat, he looked into the faces of those around him. They looked uneasily at the island which had dove, then at Che’el beneath them. Jun heard Karu sigh and looked up to see her also glancing at the faces of the crowd. “A turtle dives and mankind finally sees the ground beneath their feet as alive.” Karu spoke quietly, and Jun wasn’t sure if anyone had heard but him. Her face grew gaunt, as if she had aged 10 years in a moment. “A turtle dives and mankind finally sees the ground beneath their feet as ground that may not always be theirs to walk upon.”
The day after the Dive, Jun and Karu sat down with the survivors of the new island, Katad. “Will you share the story of Katad?” Karu asked. “What could have happened to lead to this?”
Of the two survivors, one had refused to speak in the day since his rescue. The other glanced quickly between Jun and Karu’s faces, then began her tale. “I was not born when we last left the Archipelago. According to our historian, the seamount’s historians warned us that we were departing with too many on our island. The open ocean’s resources would not sustain us as the Archipelago had. We had had many marriages form during our visit, and nearly all of them had chosen to remain on Katad. Those young families were stubborn, and decided to ignore the warning.
“The following years went smoothly, and the new families began to have children, such as myself. The burden upon Katad increased, but we dutifully farmed, gathered, and fished, and we continued to survive. Two decades passed, and many began to wonder when we would next visit the Archipelago and allow our people to settle elsewhere.
“Many more years passed, and my generation began to have children of our own. We were overdue for a visit to the Archipelago, but no one knows the path an island will choose to take. The burden upon Katad increased further, and we starved as we picked off every animal we could find across Katad’s surface.
“One day, one gatherer came to the market with dense chunks of meat. He refused to say what they were, but we were vigilant, and we soon discovered what he had done. Adjacent to a parasite-inflicted wound, he had used a sharpened rock to carve off pieces of Katad’s revealed flesh from beneath the bony outer skin. Within a day, knowledge of this had spread across the island, and the practice quickly gained popularity. Unfortunately, our diligent gathering of parasites had left us few wounds to pick at, but we learned to leave the parasites be so they could create more harvesting sites for ourselves.
“The island’s meat brought us from starvation to excess. Katad, in its limitless capacity, had fed us, and we excitedly planned to share this development the next time we visited the Archipelago. Over the following years, Katad began to swim noticeably faster, but we ignored it until, far in the distance, we finally spotted the Archipelago. It had been more than 40 years since our visit, and we were returning triumphant.”
“The parasite-triggered instinct,” Karu said under her breath, staring aside with unfocused eyes. “It was rushing to obtain humans to cleanse it of its infestation.”
The woman looked at Karu with confusion, then continued. “As we approached, I expected Katad to slow down and enter orbit with the seamount, but instead, Katad began to accelerate. Our historian grew concerned and tried to gain our attention, but we were giddy with excitement. Finally, we could return and flaunt our survival, and the sooner we arrived, the better. Several people climbed down to continue the harvest so we’d have meat to trade upon our arrival. Then… well, then you saw what happened.”
Karu continued to stare towards nothing. “Perhaps this is another instinct we’ve never had the misfortune to bring forth,” she said. “We live upon these enormous beasts, and for all our records, know so little of them.” She turned to Jun. “Think, even if we keep the actions of Katad’s inhabitants secret, their struggle is bound to be repeated on countless islands as the Erosion progresses.”
Jun thought back to his trip through the seamounts with Lira. Back to the farmers on Pitilo and the stories of a mysterious landmass. Was she right, could people survive on land away from the islands? If there was ever a time to convince people to try, it was now after the Dive shook their confidence in the land they had always called home.. “I have an idea,” Jun said, “but there’s someone I need to introduce you to first.”
Jun stood with Lira and Karu on the historians’ meeting ground of Dalom. People from islands all throughout Koatus formed a massive crowd of thousands arrayed before the three of them. The crowd was loosely organized in groups, led by leaders of islands. Jun saw Leta standing before the people of Botar, and even Bors had taken responsibility for the people of Che’el today. Had there ever been so many people on a single island before? Jun looked at Lira and she smiled nervously at him.
“By now, I’m sure you have all heard of the circumstances surrounding Katad,” Karu said. Even the mention of the island drew uneasy looks from those in the crowd. “I’d like to think of this as an isolated instance, but I’m afraid it might not be, given something else we’ve slowly become aware of. We believe the islands are slowly dying out as a species.”
The people of the islands stood silently. Karu seemed to have expected a more immediate reaction, but with their silence, she continued. “We call it the Erosion. Over hundreds of years, the number of islands which come to the Archipelago for the first time seems to be slowly decreasing, and the population of people living on the islands has been slowly increasing. As a result, the islands have grown more and more crowded. Hundreds of years ago, it was common for islands to come and go without being inhabited, but this is rare now. We’ve survived through advances in how we gather, farm, and fish, but this can only carry us so far.”
A low hum arose as murmurs spread through the crowd. The rest of the historians stared intently at Karu. Whether or not they believed in the Erosion, they had all disapproved of sharing knowledge of it outside their circle, and now they waited for what plan or reason Karu would say to justify her choice. “We know this is a lot to process. We’ve only now chosen to share this hypothesis because we have an idea of how to deal with it. Jun, one of our apprentices, will share it.”
The worried crowd and skeptical historians all turned their attention to Jun now. He swallowed nonexistent saliva down his suddenly dry throat. “At Pitilo, the largest of the seamounts, farmers have left their islands to raise trees on the seamount itself. Many of you are probably aware of this, as their cut wood is why we have so many rafts, we don’t have to think twice about using them to row between the islands.
“Pitilo’s tree farmers are still dependent on the islands for food. But maybe they could be self-sufficient if they just cut the amount of wood they need for themselves, and spent more time fishing and gathering coconuts.”
Jun read confusion on the crowd’s faces. “Not that I’m saying they should stop cutting wood for the Archipelago, just that they could maybe survive on their own.” The listeners grew visibly more restless, and Jun tried to shake off his nerves. “What I’m trying to say is, these farmers have shown us that it’s maybe possible to survive on seamounts independent of the islands, especially larger ones like Pitilo which naturally seem to accumulate much more freshwater and large plant species.
“I’ve heard stories of distant masses of land spotted by people on islands out in the ocean, but no one has ever tried to go to one. For good reason, if you took a raft and went, there would be no return. Our islands will swim the course they swim, and so anyone who ventures off would be left behind. I don’t think one person alone could go off and find a way to survive, but what if half of the people of the island went together, ready with tools and extra food? What if half of the people of the island knew from the moment their island left the Archipelago that they’d be perpetually watchful for such a landmass and constantly preparing to leave for it once one was spotted?
“If some islands decide to take on this responsibility, and they actually find a land mass, then the remaining members of the island will eventually return to the Archipelago to inform the rest of us. If we’re lucky and the island stays by the landmass for long enough, maybe the settlers can even send a messenger back to tell us how it turned out to be. If these landmasses really are so much bigger than even Pitilo, imagine what life we’ll discover on them!”
Jun glanced at Lira and saw her grin, hearing him use her arguments. If she hadn’t joined his trip, he never would have come up with this plan. Looking back to the crowd, Jun saw the murmurs continue, though more faces showed optimism than they had in moments prior. Then Karu stepped forward to speak. “We will need volunteers for the first expedition. If there is enough interest, we could even set up more than one island to take settlers, though I would also think it reasonable to wait until the first island returns with news of success or failure. I will join the first party, who will join me?”
The murmurs died down, and the air was filled with an expectant silence. Jun had hoped more people would have been swayed by his plan, especially in the aftermath of the Dive, but maybe the other historians were right. Maybe the Erosion was too much for people to accept. Suddenly, Jun found himself stepping forward, as if his legs acted of their own accord. “I too will join the first party. Will no one else have the courage to join us?”
Jun’s heart raced. He could never leave Che’el! But at the same time, some part of him knew that his plan’s success was more important. If this didn’t happen now, he’d drift off on Che’el, leaving a broken plan behind. It might take years or even decades for someone to come up with a better idea, and even then, who knows if people could be convinced to follow it? Jun looked at Lira, the obvious question in his eyes, but she just shook her head subtly.
“We shall join you!”
Jun turned towards the source of the voice. A young couple, not yet with children, stood up and walked over to Jun, Lira, and Karu. And then, another family, with three kids just older than Jun, joined as well. Group after group shuffled over until several dozen stood ready. Karu met Jun’s gaze and gave him a small nod. “Thank you,” she said, addressing the volunteers. “I will share more details regarding our preparation, and for the rest of you,” she said, now addressing the crowd, “thank you for your time. I hope you find a way to bring the islands back, but if not, I hope you find the courage to join us eventually.”
As Karu talked more to the volunteers, Jun pulled Lira aside. “Why don’t you come with us? You know how important this is, and I wouldn’t have even come up with this plan without you.”
“I know, but can you really see yourself leaving Che’el and your family? If you do this, you probably won’t ever see them again.
Jun glanced at the crowd, but there were too many present to pick out his mother or father. “I know I won’t, but this feels important. This is about the survival of all of us, and if I just abandon it, I don’t know if I’ll ever do anything as important ever again.”
“I know,” she said, “but we don’t know how long it’s going to take to convince people to follow. What happens to those left behind? Those living on the island as they get more and more crowded. Even if everyone agrees to seek out landmasses, it might take years before even one island finds one, forget about the rest. We’ve got to keep learning to survive more efficiently with what we’ve got, and I just think I’ve got to stay to help figure that out, for my family and for everyone.”
Jun measured Lira’s expression and realized that, as set as he was upon going, she was upon staying. As enthusiastic as he would be about exploring new land, she would be about finding ways to help make sure everyone survived to reach it.
Jun finished packing his things and stood up to face his family. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, “I wish I didn’t have to…”
“I understand,” Alcar said, putting a hand on Jun’s shoulder. “You’ve set your mind to it, and I know there’s no getting around that. Besides, I’d be pretty tempted to do the same if I were your age.”
Elys stood closer to Jun and put an arm around his shoulders. “Besides, we’ll be on the first island out soon as Jora is old enough to be a little more independent. Maybe we’ll even end up in the same place.”
Jun stood with them, silently for several minutes that seemed to stretch on for an eternity. Once he pulled away, however, it felt like it had been no time at all. He took a raft to join Karu and the rest of the volunteers as they gathered on Parek, the island they would depart on. Karu and the other historian volunteers believed it would be the next to leave the Archipelago, so they brought their clothes, their shelters, and their tools, and set up a new home.
The first night Jun slept on Parek, something felt off. He had spent a vast majority of his nights in the Archipelago sleeping on islands that were not Che’el, but each of those times still felt like a visit away from home. The slight difference in rhythm or timbre of the deep and distant heartbeats were always temporary. Parek, however, would be his home for the foreseeable future, with Che’el’s rhythm now just a memory of his past. And one day, he’d leave behind the islands with their deep rhythms all together.
The next day, they continued to build up shelters and lay down farming soil. By night, Jun’s body ached from the labor and his eyelids sagged as he settled in for the night. This time, Parek’s heartbeat didn’t feel quite as foreign, though maybe it was just the exhaustion.
As the first light rose over the water, Jun rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and as he looked around, his breath caught in his throat. The Archipelago was gone. He saw Karu sitting and staring out to the ocean behind them. “I guess there’s no turning back now,” Jun said.
“No, I guess not.”