Author notes: Let me say up front that there are a lot of things wrong with this story, technically speaking:
- First, it was supposed to be a drabble, and at just under 200 words that clearly has not happened.
- Second, even the North Atlantic Octopus doesn’t go as deep as the Titanic, which sits at 12,600 feet below.
- Third, the octopus is a relatively solitary creature and would probably skip the classroom for more of an independent study sort of situation.
- And finally, the idea that an octopus would care about the fate of salmon is, of course, patently ridiculous.
* * *
Meteor Descending
Ironically, the first human words Ololilon puzzled out were from a menu. He’d come across the wreck while riding the current.
Metal loomed from the dark, a gaping hole in its side. Oli swam past a deck chair and through a gap in the torn metal, pushing deep into the remnant.
Few would have been able to decipher the fading text. Even in the Cold Deep time has meaning. And this fallen star had been resting on the ocean floor for lifetimes.
But Oli’s eyes were adapted to the dark. Each shimmering wavelength told a tale, and this story was one of horror.
Chicken, peas and rice meant nothing to him, but oysters and salmon? Cousins and neighbors. Consumed.
But while this message was one of horror, it also bore hope.
* * *
“Teacher, my podmate says aliens aren’t even real.”
Ololilon’s classroom was full. Spawning season had ended and it was a perfect time to teach the juveniles English. They would need it.
“Their meteors are real enough. And if we can learn how to speak with them,“ Oli said, tentacles swaying with emotion, “perhaps we can keep them from killing us all.”
* * *
J.R. Johnson 
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