“Because inside the park, they don’t learn. Everything is safer there. Out here—” He gestured at the empty horizon of green-blue water. “Out here, the fish are smart. But there, they are still protected. So easy to catch. And now, with all the people gone…” He trailed off and stood for a moment staring at Eiko. Then, as if steadying himself against a lurch of the ship, he fell against Eiko and squeezed his shoulder, hard, before continuing. “Now, with all the people gone, they must be growing even fatter and stupider. All those fish. I wish I were there now, with my spear.”

And Eiko understood that Son had not gone mad at all. No.

The days grew warmer, and the Sea Wolf moved south through the pillaged, empty seas. South, toward the trap Son had set for it.

Chapter 21

In the octopus we see opportunism, exploration, creativity—the qualities we associate with consciousness in our own mental life. We think we recognize a mind like our own.

But this creature is nothing like us. The majority of an octopus’s neurons are in its arms, connected via a neural ring to a brain that can override, but does not always control, its maverick appendages.

As I watch this quicksilver being moving through its environment, I ask myself: How does this animal, who has more neurons in its limbs than in its brain, who tastes with its grasp, whose skin can sense light, see the world? And could we ever hope to understand such a point of view?

—Dr. Ha Nguyen, How Oceans Think

21

“I JUST NEEDED TO TALK it through with you, that’s all,” Ha said.

Kamran was in a white lab coat, leaning against a counter with a cup of coffee in his hand. Through the translucency of him, Ha could see the curtains of her room here on the island, the dismal wall. The window had been left open during the hotel’s abandonment. Damp had invaded the room. Black streaks of mold ran like varicose veins through Kamran’s projection.

“You’re the only one who knows the whole process of my thought. That’s all. I know I’m pulling you away from work.”

“It’s nothing.” Kamran waved a hand. “I kicked the graduate students out and closed the lab. I’m always here for you.”

“Wait—what time is it there in Istanbul? You’re four hours behind us. It’s after two in the morning here—it’s after ten o’clock in the evening there, Kamran. What are you even doing at the lab?”

Kamran set the coffee cup down and sighed. “Ha, there’s something I have to tell you. I’m a vampire. Just after you left, I was attacked. They said they would only take a little blood. They said it was for charity.”

“Well, I hope you’re happy,” Ha said. “There go all your afternoons lounging in the sun.”