“Probably. But it would be based on our limited definition of intelligence, not theirs. Having worked with cephalopods over the last four years, I can tell you they possess distinct personalities and recognize and respond differently to individual humans. I’ve witnessed cephalopods in the wild construct sanctuaries out of coconut shells and collect rocks to stack outside the opening of their shelter for the sole purpose of warding off predators.”

“There’s an interesting question—do you think an octopus has a soul?”

“You’re better off asking that question to Dharma, she’s our resident Buddhist. I do know they have three hearts, which are located in their heads—their brain is situated closer to their mouth. Wait, you’ll appreciate this.”

“You’re not going to torture another crab, are you?”

Ignoring my attempt at levity, she removed an empty plastic water bottle from a recycling bin, washed it out, then filled it with salt water, allowing it to sink to the bottom of the tank.

Oscar intercepted it—at least I assumed it was Oscar, but instead of touching it, the male octopus created a powerful jet stream of water, the burst sending the bottle over to Sophia. Within minutes, the two cephalopods were engaged in what might be perceived as a game of catch.

“Amazing.”

“Playful behavior is another sign of intelligence,” Lara explained. “What separates the octopus from other higher life-forms is that they are solitary creatures, remaining alone from the time they’re born. Humans and chimps, dogs and dolphins, learn from other members of their pack. Cephalopods must individually acquire knowledge in order to survive.”

“Some of us survived the Great Die-Off in a similar way.” I glanced at a wall clock. 6:05. “Damn, I’m late for a briefing. Nice, uh, meeting you.”

She winked. “See you again soon.”

Exiting the aquarium, I hurried back up the corridor connecting Phase III to Phase II. Directed by ABE, I quickly located the conference room, knocked, and entered.

My uncle was seated at a doughnut-shaped holographic table across from a balding scientist who I estimated to be in his early sixties. The man’s jawline sported a cinnamon-red beard. The general shot me a perturbed look, as if a quickie with my fiancée had caused the tardiness. “Sorry if this briefing interrupted your social life.”

“It wasn’t her.”

“Dr. Robert Eisenbraun, this is Dr. Donald Bruemmer, one of the Omega twelve. Dr. Bruemmer is the materials chemist GOLEM placed in charge of constructing Oceanus I and II. So there’s no confusion, Oceanus I is the prototype being used on the training mission, Oceanus II is the actual lunar module that will be forward-towed out by the Space Shuttle and deployed on Europa. Dr. Bruemmer delayed his arrival to the training site just to brief you.”