“I remember. I have practically the whole theory memorized: The octopus would have to develop symbols—an arbitrary way to encode lots of different, abstract information. One that was stable, and self-referential. The octopus would have to separate off one of their functions from the others and use that function to produce intelligible meaning.”

“Exactly! It happened with our own speech as well—we adapted a breathing and eating apparatus into a speech apparatus. And that is what the octopus was doing—exapting. It was using the passing cloud, but using it to speak.”

“That’s a bold statement. A pretty big jump in—”

“Let me finish! The octopus would move the passing cloud patterns across its mantle and head, and then stop them on its hood, and hold them there. And the patterns were complex, but specific. Far beyond the normal, quick shadow you see when it’s trying to get a crab to reveal its hiding place. This was like … like Rorschach symbols. At first there was a sequence of them, very fast. Then the octopus darkened all over for a moment, before turning white again. After its skin went pale the second time, it slowed the shapes down. First it produced a sequence: the same, as far as I could tell, as it was producing before. But then it began to produce only one shape. It brought it down slowly, across its mantle and head, and then held it on its spread-out hood.”

“Describe it. The shape.”

“It was a downward-facing crescent. But there was also a long, pointed streak at the lower pole of the crescent. Here. I’ll draw it.”

Ha drew on a piece of palimpscreen on her bedside table and held it up to the oculus.

“About like that. Rougher around the edges, but like that. It reproduced that same shape nine or ten times. Then it jetted up, out of the camera range. It must have grabbed the submersible from behind: the camera jerked, and was pulled farther into the wreck. Everything after that was a blur. The submersible was being yanked around quickly, and its camera couldn’t focus.

“But then it came to a stop. Most of the camera was obscured by one of the octopus’s arms. There were streaks across the image as well—electrical qualia, probably caused when the submersible’s hull began to breach and the first salt water hit the electronics. The octopus was tearing the submersible open. Just before it went dark, I saw…”

Ha stopped. Outside, there was a sound, in the distance. A sort of crump. Then again.

Crump.

A flash of light penetrated the room’s curtains.

“Kamran, something is happening. I have to go.”

Crump.

“I’ll be back. I have to see—”

“I understand. We’ll talk later. Anyway, I was about to go for a run.”

“Liar.”

“You never know what bad habits I’ll develop while you’re away.”

The oculus went dark.

Crump.