Showing posts with label deep sea. Show all posts
Showing posts with label deep sea. Show all posts

Thursday, November 19, 2009

Expedition

Faithful Readers –

I know I've been absent this past month, but I have exciting news – be prepared to hear many reports on the life of the elusive pixie mermaid. I have been exploring deep sea trenches, questing for a glimpse of their grapefruit-sized selves and glowing foreheads (their foreheads glow). Thanks to assiduous study of the travelogues of many crazed sailors, I, Johnny Fishtail, foremost North American cryptoanthropologist, have discovered many secret things.

Here are some facts about pixie mermaids to whet your appetite:
Pixie mermaids are the size of a grapefruit.

Pixie mermaids are apex predators in their natural habitat.

Pixie mermaids are delicious.

Pixie mermaids wear winkle shells as hats.

Pixie mermaids have names like Carl and Danny.

Pixie mermaids are no less delicious for being named Carl.

They speak perfect English.

This makes them more delicious.
I make every effort to investigate the natural world like they did in the good old days. Until next time, happy reader,

– Johnny

Thursday, August 6, 2009

Connundrum II

Okay – I can actually answer both those questions.

1) What do mermaids eat?

Mermaids eat pretty much anything. Shellfish, fish fish, shark fish, porpoises – you name it. They have algae farms and oyster beds, so they must cultivate all sorts of other things. Once they're done eating everything, they probably toss the remains down deep sea trenches. Unless, of course, they grind it up into plaster to build palaces.

Deep sea mermaids living at the bottom of the open ocean probably eat whale carcasses that sink to the sea bed. Either that or mermaid trash that gets thrown down because they don't need it for plaster. Deep sea mermaids have separate cult rituals based on these two much-appreciated sources of food.

DONE. now:

2) What happens to mermaids when they die?

One good place to start is sea foam. We can consider classical sources here – Venus is famously depicted rising from the ocean in a clam shell, but artistic embellishment aside, the miss is said to have arisen from sea foam. Clearly sea foam is of some importance. (at this particular moment we can choose to ignore that idea that sea foam may be a convenient euphemism for obscuring some Olympian sexual misadventure). Since mermaids don't have reproductive organs, it's also likely that they come from sea foam, right? So why not turn into sea foam when they die?

That's what some mermaids think, at least; there's a big emphasis on Classics in high school there. There are, however, pointed arguments among mer university communities, sometimes mounting to trident duels – those few mermaids that do take their studies seriously are willing to fight to the death over them. Mer biologists and thermodynamititians tend to fall on the side of natural processes – sea foam cannot be accounted for simply by the effervescent bodily decay of mermaids.

The majority of mermaids, on the other hand (being disinclined to rigor on account of their love of play), are After-Foamers, also known as Foam Dissolutionists. Foam Dissolutionists believe firmly in the espumification of the merbody after death.

This is a good moment to bring up that mermaids don't have burials. Instead they drop the bodies of the dead down deep sea ravines in the course of an elaborate ceremony meant to commemorate the playfulness and mirth of the deceased individual. Merkings preside over these ceremonies with a dour air, as is their wont, since they're never allowed to have fun anyway. Furthermore, they like to keep the ceremonies going for as long as possible, since it's a great opportunity to exist undisturbed by sailors (there aren't that many sailors by deep sea ravines). Some merkings do this to purposefully make other mermaids suffer the deprivation of sailors, but others are genuinely glad for the opportunity of company. Plus it's not too bad, since mer funerals aren't sad; they're just boring, because there aren't any sailors to harass, or even funny-looking fish, since those ravines are kind of out of the way.

The ceremonies are long, and consist mostly of merkings trying to make sure mermaids don't sneak off to harass sailors. No one really knows what happens to the body beyond its descent, because they're all preoccupied with sailors in their own particular way. And no one reflects on the ceremony or its implications afterwards (except the biologists and thermodynamititians, who everyone ignores anyway).

Frankly, the most likely accounting of the disappearance of mer bodies after death is their being eaten by deep sea mermaids.

Friday, July 10, 2009

Mermaids of the Future

The question we really need to ask is,

What are mermaids doing to prepare for the future? What are merchildren learning in schools to help make them competitive in the job market? Is the next generation of mermaids and merlads being trained to face the challenges of a changing mersociety?

It's hard enough trying to conduct chemistry labs underwater – merstudents haven't had as much exposure to hydrochloric acid as you or me, let me tell you. On the other hand, they probably have a good foundation in hydrodynamics. Motivated biologist mers have stations at coral reefs for sure, and I bet they can extend their knowledge of physics down in deep-sea thermal vents (even if the mermaids you find there are really weird).

Can you imagine how weird a deep-sea mermaid is? I don't need to imagine – they're really weird. They hang out with octopuses, first of all. Some of them are really hairy, to deal with the extreme cold and low oxygen levels (they trap oxygen in their hairs – THEY'RE SO WEIRD). Other are completely bald, all over their bodies. I think that's more an environmental effect than a genetic one – extreme temperatures must have singed off their hairs.

Can things singe underwater? Maybe the hairs just withered off.

Deep-sea mermaids aren't the creepiest mermaids, though. They're at least recognizably mermaid-like. The craziest mermaids are beyond the imagination of even other mermaids. The scariest mermaids are the ones that live in the midst of the lightless water column – they have humongous eyes and creepy bioluminescent appendages. They're probably also really tiny – the size of a grapefruit – due to high pressure and physiological demands. By that logic, the deepest deep sea mermaids are also probably supposed to be really small, but the fact is that they're mermaid giants of the deep. This doesn't mean they're actually bigger than regular mermaids, it just means that they're colossal by the standards of their region.

The middle regions of the water column are more or less the Medieval Black Wood of the mermaid imagination – it's an amorphous, threatening expanse between the recognizable regions of the known mer-world.

The known mer-world, it must be pointed out, is pretty scarce. The oceans of our planet, aside from being tremendous, are three-dimensionally inhabitable. Here, read about Pelagic Zones. Mermaids are scared of pretty much ninety-per-cent of that, even if they have little grapefruit-sized pixie mermaid cousins to hold their hand in the dark.

When that much of your environment exists as persistently unknowable, it's no surprise that you're prone to superstition. That's not all mermaids, of course – most are carefree, we're talking about the tiny fraction of the mermaid population that isn't. That small group is either devotedly superstitious, making signs against the evil eye and swallowing poisonous fish concoctions; or very scientific.

The latter group study either physics or biology, as we've already established.