My morning routine was pretty boring, but necessary nonetheless. Make my bed, brush my canines, and prepare for a day of intense study. Being the lone tiger in the group made me sort of an outcast. My name is Max Siberian, but everyone just calls me Sparks because, when I first arrived, my claws scraped a metal grate and sparked.
I was living at the Academy of Higher Thinking after receiving a scholarship for a thesis I wrote on the symbiotic relationship of all living beings. My parents, although sad to see me leave home, were very proud of my achievement and excited for my future.
Before leaving, my father took me aside, paws on my shoulders, “Son, you’re going to a different land than ours. Things are going to be strange, but you’ll eventually get used to them. Just stay focused on your studies and make yourself proud, because we already are.”
The Galactan Mountains’ peaks nearly surrounded the school in a deep valley. There was almost always a layer of fog in the morning, which lifted as the sun rose. The lower slopes were lush and green, giving way to snow higher up the mountain.
Hundreds of years ago, people found an ancient set of scrolls here, and scholars wanted to preserve them within the mountains. Hence, the school’s remote location. Scholars claimed these scrolls enabled readers to see some future events, although no one really knows of any events they’ve forecasted.
Our professor was none other than the renowned philosopher JP Octoreal. He was a bright red octopus, and every day, before the sun was up, I would go to his study, which was wall-to-wall books and scrolls, to serve him his breakfast. He always preferred a hot Earl Grey with a warm biscuit with butter.
Professor Octoreal would always sit at his desk, reading the Galactan scrolls, in a high-backed, cushioned swivel chair. He had one tentacle on the right, turning the page; a tentacle in the center, following the script, with one more holding the left page down. His glasses always hung halfway down his face, and his eyes darted back and forth rapidly as he read.
He looked up, “Ah, Mr. Sparks. Please place my breakfast here.” He pointed with his left tentacle at the open area to his left, next to his single light source, a green, single-bulb, bell-shaped lampshade with adjustable brass arms.
I placed the tray where the professor wanted it. The steam from the tea created an eerie look as the lamplight illuminated the rising cloud.
“Thank you, Mr. Sparks.” He went back to reading the scroll, but I didn’t leave.
“You have something to say, Mr. Sparks?”
“Sir, I…” I stammered, unable to get my question out.
Professor Octoreal looked up, his glasses still hanging down his face, “I take it you’re still having trouble with your roommates?”
I shifted from paw to paw while wringing my hands together, “Well, sir, it’s just that I’m the only predatory mammal here at the school and, well, it’s still quite awkward. No one will talk to me, sit with me at mealtime, and I hear them making fun of me behind my back.”
The professor sat up straighter, “What would you like me to do about it?”
“Well, could you talk to them?”
“How do you think that will solve the problem? Don’t you think they might be more resentful if I did?” He looked at me with those enormous eyes of his.
“Yeah, I guess so. But, is there anything you could do?”
He picked up his tea and took a sip, then took a bite of his biscuit. “Mmmm,” he moaned, “there is one thing I could do.”
“What is that, sir?”
“I could eat the delicious breakfast that you brought for me and then finish my reading.”
I stood there, dumbfounded, with my mouth hanging open.
“Close your mouth, Mr. Sparks, and pull up a chair.”
It took me a couple of minutes to register what he had just said. My head hung low, and my eyes darted back and forth. It took me a while to move, but I did after Professor Octoreal cleared his throat.
“Sorry, sir, I… I just wasn’t expecting an invitation to join you.”
“Care to join me?”
The professor looked past me as I moved a chair in front of his desk. “Mrs. Slugworth, could you please bring another tea and biscuit in here for my guest?”
A distant voice responded, “Sure thing, Professor.”
The professor swiveled around in his chair and grabbed another volume of the scrolls for me. I moved the scroll in front of me just as Mrs. Slugworth, a very large slug, waddled in with a tray for me.
“Thank you, Mrs. Slugworth.” The Professor and I said simultaneously.
“Now, Mr. Sparks, you are one of my brightest students, and I think it would be a better use of your time to read the scrolls with me instead of worrying about the jealousy of the other students. It’s not that you’re a predatory mammal that bothers them; it is that you are exceptionally gifted and they are jealous. Your written thesis was brought to my attention, which is why I granted you a full scholarship.
He opened my scroll and flicked through the pages until he found what he was looking for. “I’ve been going through the scrolls these past few weeks, and things are very disturbing. I want you to read and share with me your thoughts.”
My voice elevated slightly, “My thoughts? What could I possibly know from reading the scrolls?” My brain was still trying to wrap around the idea that he had read my thesis and wanted me here.
“Just read, and share with me what comes to mind when you do.”
Professor Octoreal and I began reading together. I felt honored to do so, but definitely out of my league. At first, nothing really came to me. Actually, the words made little sense to me, but I kept on reading. Even though the professor didn’t appear to be looking at me, I could feel his stare almost boring into my brain.
Reading this scroll gave me a headache; then, suddenly, images seemed to float in front of me. The more I read, the more the images sharpened. Then I gasped, “Professor, this…this can’t be real, is it?”
“Please, Mr. Sparks, remain calm and share with me what you saw.”
It was almost as if he knew I would see something. My body stiffened, and my eyes squeezed shut as I replayed the image in my head. There were what looked like hundreds of bright silver vessels flying straight towards us, with what appeared to be translucent tentacles hanging down from them. Jellyfish, no, not jellyfish, Portuguese man-of-war.
I explained my vision to the professor. He sat there, nodding his head, took another sip of his tea, and casually remarked. “Well, Mr. Sparks, I was indeed correct about your abilities.”
He paused, took a bite of his biscuit, then asked, “Did you happen to notice when this invasion would occur?”
I stood abruptly, my heart racing as Professor Octoreal sat there eating his breakfast and drinking his tea calmly.
“Professor! What are we going to do?”
“First, answer my question.” His tone was relaxed, almost soothing.
I sat back down, my chest rising and falling rapidly, then rested my elbows on his desk as I placed my head on my paws, staring blankly.
“Mr. Sparks. Time is of the essence, so please share the timeframe if you know it.”
Again, his voice was soft and nonchalant, “I think that they’ll be here Monday, Tuesday at the latest.”
“Hmm,” he said as he tapped one of his tentacles against his face. “It is what I was afraid of.”
“Why don’t you look afraid?”
“And what would that do for me, Mr. Sparks?”
The question caught me off guard, and took me a moment to refocus, “Nothing, I guess.”
“Exactly. We need to remain calm and focused before discussing our options. They are coming here for the scrolls. They always wanted them for their own greed. You see, only a few beings can effectively use the scrolls, you being one of them.”
“Me!?”
“Yes, you, Mr. Sparks. I felt it after reading your thesis, and that’s why I wanted you here. Now, the Portuguese man-of-war is a violent race, and they feel it will help them conquer other territories. Of course, they do not have the abilities that we have, but it doesn’t stop them from thinking so.”
“Well, what are we going to do? Can’t we call someone?”
“Think, Mr. Sparks. We are too far away for our military to get here in time, yet we are not helpless.”
“What are you talking about, sir?”
“We have much bigger and more developed brains than they do.”
“Yeah, but how are we going to fight them with our brains?”
The Professor took another sip of his tea. “Take a sip of tea, Mr. Sparks.”
“What!?”
He pointed to my tea and biscuits. “It is better to think when our brains have some nourishment.”
I took a sip and felt rather peaceful.
“Now, Portuguese man-of-war have few enemies that can take them, and unfortunately, we do not have access to any of them. However, they are not indestructible. What is one thing that you can think of that could counterattack the Portuguese man-of-war?”
Taking another sip of tea, because it was good and calmed my mind a bit, “Heat!”
“Exactly,” he said calmly. “They are very susceptible to drying out, and being that we are far from a large body of water, their greed will be their undoing. That and, of course, our creating a heat source to dry them out before they land here.”
We finished our tea and biscuits, then the Professor called an emergency school meeting. Everyone was to attend, even the staff and nearby villagers. Once we were all present, young and old, Professor Octoreal began.
“Good morning, everyone. I guess you’re all wondering why an emergency meeting was called for the entire village and school. Well, it appears we will soon be under attack by the Portuguese man-of-war.”
There was a sudden burst of voices shouting and screaming. I couldn’t make out a word anyone was saying; it was so chaotic.
“Please pipe down!” The professor shouted. That was actually the first time I had ever heard him shout. He had a set of lungs on him.
“We will all remain calm and work the problem. The one thing we know that is effective against Portuguese man-of-war is heat. We need to be able to shoot a concentrated beam of heat at their ships, which are plentiful. Any ideas?”
Tim Beaverman raised his paw, “Professor, we have lots of large bamboo not too far from the village. I could cut down a bunch, and then we can use them to direct the heat.”
“Good idea, Mr. Beaverman, and where are we going to get the heat source and then shoot it up to their ships before they land?”
I could’ve sworn that the professor actually knew all the answers, but he wanted to get everyone involved. It’s kind of how he taught us.
Betsy Rhesus shouted, “We could make a large bellows to blow the heat.”
Peter Elksnout, “If we can create a tall, narrow fire pit to concentrate the heat and direct it into the bamboo shoots, that should work.”
“It might at that, Mr. Elksnout. Any other suggestions?”
“Yeah,” I said, “We can build pits out of stone and fill them with dried wood. Spray them with fermented grains that Mr. Panda makes.”
“I object to that.” Mr. Panda blurted out, slightly slurred.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Panda, but our school and village need your spirits.”
He took a deep breath. “Oh, okay.” Mr. Panda was a sweet old panda bear who took care of school maintenance, but he loved his spirits.
“Okay, everyone. We only have 4 days to prepare. Mr. Panda, please make more spirits. Mr. Beaverman, start on the bamboo. Misters Sparks and Elksnout, you two are in charge of the pit, and Ms. Rhesus, the bellows. Everyone else will assist where they can. Now there is much to do and little time.”
Mr. Panda walked up to me, “Mr. Sparks, you had to tell them about my spirits?”
“Sorry, Mr. Panda, but everyone already knew about them, and we really need you now.”
He nodded and walked away.
We all worked from dawn till dusk. Those too small or young to assist with the larger items brought us drinks and food. Professor Octoreal was pretty smart, but I don’t know how our contraptions would work against a warring race like the Portuguese man-of-war.
Every night, Professor Octoreal had me read the scrolls with him to get a better idea of what we could expect. The good news, there weren’t as many as I thought there would be. The bad news was that they were still coming, and straight for us.
While they were after the scrolls, I’m sure they would still try to kill us all, even if we gave the scrolls to them. Although Professor Octoreal was having none of that.
On the fourth day, the Professor had us all gather around the school just as the sun was coming up.
“I must say,” he started, “you all worked very hard and did a wonderful job preparing. We certainly will give these evil beings a run for their money. Now, let’s keep our heads and give them a greeting they will never forget. Start the fires, please, Mr. Panda.”
We set up 10 pits in total. The larger mammals would hold the bamboo up while Betsy led those manning the bellows to force the dry, hot air at the Portuguese man-of-war. I noticed the professor looking towards the horizon as the sun was brightening the sky, then back at a tarp covering a mound.
My curiosity got the best of me. “What are you looking for, Professor?”
“Well, Mr. Sparks, I am judging the trajectory of the sun for our visitors. Hopefully, we won’t have to wait that long, because the sun needs to be in a certain position for the surprise to work. Let’s just hope that the contraptions that you all constructed work well.”
As the sun crested the horizon, we saw them. The sun was at the backs of their ships, and they looked like dark spots with vines hanging down from them. As they approached closer and the sun shifted its position, its glow reflected off the silver ships with not vines, but the tentacles of ten man-of-war, hanging from them. There were only thirty of them, which was a slight relief from what looked like hundreds in my vision.
They were in a precision formation headed straight for us. Several of the smaller villagers and students gasped at the sight of them.
Professor Octoreal commanded us, “Start the bellows! Direct the bamboo towards the ships. Mr. Sparks, you’re the farthest away from here; you take the ships towards the back of their formation. Follow that order up, Mr. Elksnout. You’ll take the first two ships at the front. We must stay calm and accurate in our counterattack.”
Watching and listening to the professor give orders gave me the impression that he had served in the military at some point in his life.
As the ships approached, they descended, and their tentacles began reaching for the nearest beings.
“Anyone not fighting at the moment, head back to the schoolhouse quickly.” The Professor shouted.
Two of the younger ones were snagged by tentacles. “Ahhh!” They screeched. Mr. Panda attempted to rescue them, but a tentacle snared him as well. He managed to stay alive long enough to throw a bottle of his spirits at the ship and somehow light it. The ship became engulfed in flames as his body went limp from the toxins in the tentacles. That ship collided with another, so Mr. Panda was able to take out two ships before he died.
It was a gruesome sight and sound, but I had to stay focused on the task at hand. Dry out our enemies. We started out with ten bamboos, and at first, it looked like everything was going to be just fine. The Portuguese man-of-war grabbed three of our stations, and we had no one else large enough to handle the bamboo from there.
Our makeshift weapons were doing a decent job of taking out their ships. It just took too long to be effective quickly, but once we could hit them with the heat, you could see their ships slow down and, little by little, shrivel up. The heat and the smell were getting to me. My eyes were also burning and felt like they were drying out like the Portuguese man-of-war ships.
With only seven left, the Portuguese man-of-war, which started out with thirty ships, was down to only seven and still fighting to get to the scrolls. We seemed to fight for hours, holding them at bay, but we unfortunately lost 13 of our group.
With the sun now progressing overhead, Professor Octoreal uncovered a large mirror and a magnifying glass.
“Stand back! Keep working the bellows and bamboo.” He hollered.
He would direct the sun’s reflective beam through the magnifying glass, which further concentrated it into an intensely hot laser.
It hit the ship, immediately punching a hole in it. The ship then began moving erratically before crashing. After that one went down, he aimed at the next closest ship with the same result. The professor took out two more ships before the Portuguese man-of-war stopped their attack.
We dropped the bamboo and the bellows. Those of us who were left were exhausted, panting heavily. A few of us dropped to the ground as they brought us water. I walked over to the professor,
“Where did you learn to do this?” I said, pointing at the magnifying glass. “Were you in the military before here?”
He looked at me with those gigantic eyes of his. “Oh no, Mr. Sparks.”
“Well then, how did you know what to do, and why did you wait?” I asked, slightly annoyed. I mean, he had a weapon that took them down easily. Why wait to use it?
“Discovery teaches faster than instruction. Plus, I read, Mr. Sparks. And I had to wait until the sun was in the proper position.”
He raised his voice a little louder so we could all hear, “You all did very well to take out as many as you did. This weapon that I had would only work for a short time, and I know that I wouldn’t have been able to take down that many.”
He paused, “Now we must take care of our dead, but we must be very careful because the toxin in their tentacles is still lethal, even when they are dead. We shall have to burn them and make sure you are careful and wearing gloves when around them.”
We watched the remaining Portuguese man-of-war ships fly off. The sun’s rays cast a spectacular light show on the surface of their ships. It created an almost strobe-like effect through the fast-moving clouds.
As the sun descended toward the horizon, we took care of our dead and burned the remains of the Portuguese man-of-war. It was an awful task, especially when we had to extract our friends from the tentacles, and we said prayers over them all once we buried them.
Some beings are lucky. They get to go through life blissfully ignorant. I wish I were one of them.
As the dazzling light faded, the entire scene was gone, leaving memories I knew would haunt me for the rest of my life.