The Circle (54 page)

Soon both containers, those housing the octopus and the seahorses, were bobbing gently
on the neon surface. The octopus seemed aware, to some degree, that there was a far
bigger home beneath him, and was pressing itself against the base of his temporary
home.

Mae saw Victor point to the seahorses and give a quick nod to Bailey and Stenton.
“Okay,” Bailey said. “It looks like it’s time to release our seahorse friends into
their new habitat. Now I expect this to be quite beautiful. Go ahead, Victor, when
you’re ready.” And when Victor released them, it
was
quite beautiful. The seahorses, translucent but tinted just so, as if gilded only
slightly, fell into the tank, drifting down like a slow rain of golden question marks.

“Wow,” Bailey said. “Look at that.”

And finally the father of them all, looking tentative, fell from the bag and into
the tank. Unlike his children, who were spread out, directionless, he maneuvered himself,
determinedly, down to the bottom of the tank and quickly hid himself amid the coral
and vegetation. In seconds he was invisible.

“Wow,” Bailey said. “That is one shy fish.”

The babies, though, continued to float downward, and to swim in the middle of the
tank, few of them anxious to go anywhere in particular.

“We’re ready?” Bailey asked, looking up to Victor. “Well this is moving right along!
It seems we’re ready for the octopus now.” Victor opened the bottom of the bag, splitting
it, and the octopus instantly spread itself up like a welcoming hand. As it had done
when alone, it
traced the contours of the glass, feeling the coral, the seaweed, always gentle, wanting
to know all, touch all.

“Look at that. Ravishing,” Bailey said. “What a stunning creature. He must have something
like a brain in that giant balloon of his, right?” And here Bailey turned to Stenton,
asking for an answer, but Stenton chose to consider the question rhetorical. The slightest
smile overtook the corner of his mouth, but he did not turn away from the scene before
him.

The octopus flowered and grew, and flew from one side of the tank to the other, barely
touching the seahorses or any other living thing, only looking at them, only wanting
to know them, and as he touched and measured everything within the tank, Mae saw movement
again on the red ladder.

“Now we have Victor and his helper bringing the real attraction,” Bailey said, watching
the first caretaker, now joined by a second, also in white, who was manning some kind
of forklift. The cargo was a large lucite box, and inside its temporary home, the
shark thrashed a few times, its tail whipping left and right, but was far calmer than
Mae had seen it before.

From the top of the ladder, Victor arranged the lucite box on the surface of the water,
and when Mae expected the octopus and seahorses to flee for cover, the shark went
absolutely still.

“Well, look at that,” Bailey marveled.

The watchers spiked again, now to seventy-five million, and climbed frenetically,
half a million every few seconds.

Below, the octopus seemed oblivious to the shark and the possibility of it joining
them in the aquarium. The shark was utterly frozen in place, perhaps negating the
tank’s occupants’ ability to sense him.
Meanwhile, Victor and his assistant had descended the ladder and Victor was returning
with a large bucket.

“As you can see now,” Bailey said, “the first thing Victor is doing is dropping some
of our shark’s favorite food into the tank. This will keep him distracted and satisfied,
and allow his new neighbors to get acclimated. Victor has been feeding the shark all
day, so it should be well-satisfied already. But these tuna will serve as breakfast,
lunch and dinner, in case he’s still hungry.”

And so Victor dropped six large tuna, each ten pounds or more, into the tank, where
they quickly explored their environs. “There’s less need to slowly acclimate these
guys to the tank,” Bailey said. “They’ll be food pretty soon, so their happiness is
less important than the shark’s. Ah, look at them go.” The tuna were shooting across
the tank in diagonals, and their sudden presence chased the octopus and seahorse into
the coral and fronds at the bottom of the aquarium. Soon though, the tuna became less
frantic, and settled into an easy commute around the tank. At the bottom, the father
seahorse was still invisible, but his many children could be seen, their tails wrapped
around fronds and the tentacles of various anemones. It was a peaceful scene, and
Mae found herself temporarily lost in it.

“Well, this is plain gorgeous,” Bailey said, surveying the coral and vegetation in
lemons and blues and burgundies. “Look at these happy creatures. A peaceable kingdom.
Seems almost a shame to change it in any way,” he said. Mae glanced quickly to Bailey,
and he seemed startled at what he’d said, knowing it was not in the spirit of the
present endeavor. He and Stenton exchanged quick looks, and Bailey tried to recover.

“But we’re striving here for a realistic and holistic look at this
world,” he said. “And that means including
all
of the inhabitants of this ecosystem. So I’m getting an indication from Victor that
it’s time to invite the shark to join.”

Mae looked up to see Victor struggling to open the container’s bottom hatch. The shark
was still holding still, a marvel of self-control. And then he began to slide down
the lucite ramp. As he did, for a moment Mae was conflicted. She knew this was the
natural thing to happen, his joining the rest of those with whom he shared his environment.
She knew that it was right and inevitable. But for a moment, she thought it natural
in a way seeing a plane fall from the sky can seem natural, too. The horror comes
later.

“Now, for the last piece of this underwater family,” Bailey said. “When the shark
is released, we’ll get, for the first time in history, a real look at how life at
the bottom of the trench really looks, and how creatures like this cohabitate. Are
we ready?” Bailey looked to Stenton, who was standing silently next to him. Stenton
nodded brusquely, as if looking to him for the go-ahead was unnecessary.

Victor released the shark, and, as if it had been eyeing its prey through the plastic,
mentally preparing its meal and knowing the precise location of each portion, the
shark darted downward and quickly snatched the largest tuna and devoured it in two
snaps of its jaws. As the tuna was making its way, visibly, through the shark’s digestive
tract, the shark ate two more in rapid succession. A fourth was still in the shark’s
jaws when the granular remains of the first were being deposited, like snow, onto
the aquarium floor.

Mae looked then to the bottom of the tank and saw that the octopus and the seahorse
progeny were no longer visible. She saw some sign of movement in the holes in the
coral, and caught sight of what
she thought was a tentacle. Though Mae seemed sure that the shark couldn’t be their
predator—after all, Stenton had found them all in close proximity—they were hiding
from it as if they knew it, and its plans, quite well. Mae looked up and saw the shark
circling the tank, which was now otherwise empty. In the few seconds that Mae had
been looking for the octopus and seahorses, the shark had disposed of the other two
fish. Their remains fell like dust.

Bailey laughed nervously. “Well, now I’m wondering—” he said, but stopped. Mae looked
up and saw that Stenton’s eyes were narrow and offered no alternative. The process
would not be interrupted. She looked to Kalden, or Ty, whose eyes hadn’t left the
tank. He was watching the proceedings placidly, as if he had seen it before and knew
every outcome.

“Okay,” Bailey said. “Our shark is a very hungry fellow, and I would be worried about
the other occupants of our little world here if I didn’t know better. But I do know
better. I’m standing next to one of the great underwater explorers, a man who knows
what he’s doing.” Mae watched Bailey speak. He was looking at Stenton, his eyes looking
for any give, any sign that he might call this off, or offer some explanation or assurance.
But Stenton was staring at the shark, admiring.

Quick and savage movement brought Mae’s eyes back to the tank. The shark’s nose was
deep in the coral now, attacking it with a brutal force.

“Oh no,” Bailey said.

The coral soon split open and the shark plunged in, coming away, instantaneously,
with the octopus, which it dragged into the open area of the tank, as if to give everyone—Mae
and her watchers and the Wise Men—a better view as it tore the animal apart.

“Oh god,” Bailey said, quieter now.

Intentionally or not, the octopus presented a challenge to its fate. The shark ripped
off an arm, then seemed to get a mouthful of the octopus’s head, only to find, seconds
later, that the octopus was still alive and largely intact, behind him. But not for
long.

“Oh no. Oh no,” Bailey whispered.

The shark turned and, in a flurry, ripped its prey’s tentacles off, one by one, until
the octopus was dead, a shredded mass of milky white matter. The shark took the rest
of it in two snatches of its mouth, and the octopus was no more.

A kind of whimper came from Bailey, and without turning her shoulders, Mae looked
over to find that Bailey was now turned away, his palms against his eyes. Stenton,
though, was looking at the shark with a mixture of fascination and pride, like a parent
watching, for the first time, his child doing something particularly impressive, something
he’d hoped for and expected but that came delightfully sooner.

Above the tank, Victor looked tentative, and was trying to catch Stenton’s eye. He
seemed to be wondering what Mae was wondering, which was whether they should somehow
separate the shark from the seahorse, before the seahorse, too, was consumed. But
when Mae turned to him, Stenton was still watching, with no change of expression.

In a few more seconds, in a series of urgent thrusts, the shark had broken another
coral arch and extracted the seahorse, which had no defenses and was eaten in two
bites, first its delicate head, then its curved, papier-mâché torso and tail.

Then, like a machine going about its work, the shark circled and
stabbed until he had devoured the thousand babies, and the seaweed, and the coral,
and the anemones. It ate everything, and deposited the remains quickly, carpeting
the empty aquarium in a low film of white ash.

“Well,” Ty said, “that was about what I imagined would happen.” He seemed unshaken,
even buoyant as he shook Stenton’s hand, and then Bailey’s, and then, while still
holding Bailey’s hand with his right hand, he took Mae’s with his left, as if the
three of them were about to dance. Mae felt something in her palm, and quickly closed
her fingers around it. Then he pulled away and left.

“I better head out, too,” Bailey said in a whisper. He turned, dazed, and walked down
the darkened corridor.

Afterward, when the shark was alone in the tank, and was circling, still ravenous,
never stopping, Mae wondered how long she should remain in place, allowing the watchers
to watch this. But she decided that as long as Stenton remained, she would, too. And
he stayed for a long while. He couldn’t get enough of the shark, its anxious circling.

“Until next time,” Stenton said finally. He nodded to Mae, and then to her watchers,
who were now one hundred million, many of them terrified, many more in awe and wanting
more of the same.

In the bathroom stall, with the lens trained on the door, Mae brought Ty’s note close
to her face, out of view of her watchers. He insisted on seeing her, alone, and provided
detailed directions for where they should meet. When she was ready, he’d written,
she need only leave
the bathroom, and then turn and say, into her live audio, “I’m going back.” It would
imply she was returning to the bathroom, for some unnamed hygienic emergency. And
at that moment he would kill her feed, and any SeeChange cameras that might see her,
for thirty minutes. It would provoke a minor clamor, but it had to be done. Her life,
he said, was at stake, and Annie’s, and her parents’. “Everyone and everything,” he’d
written, “is teetering on the precipice.”

This would be her last mistake. She knew it was a mistake to meet him, especially
off-camera. But something about the shark had unsettled her, had left her susceptible
to bad decisions. If only someone could make these decisions for her—somehow eliminate
the doubt, the possibility of failure. But she had to know how Ty had pulled all this
off, didn’t she? Perhaps all this was some test? It made a certain sense. If she were
being groomed for great things, wouldn’t they test her? She knew they would.

So she followed his directions. She left the bathroom, told her watchers she was returning,
and when her feed went dead, she followed his directions. She descended as she had
with Kalden that one strange night, tracing the path they’d taken when he’d first
brought her to the room, far underground, where they housed and ran cool water through
Stewart and everything he’d seen. When Mae arrived, she found Kalden, or Ty, waiting
for her, his back to the red box. He’d taken off the wool hat, revealing his grey-white
hair, but he was still wearing his hoodie, and the combination of the two men, Ty
and Kalden, in one figure, repulsed her, and when he began walking toward her, she
yelled “No!”

He stopped.

“Stay there,” she said.

“I’m not dangerous, Mae.”

“I don’t know anything about you.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you who I was. But I didn’t lie.”

“You told me your name was Kalden! That’s not a lie?”

“Besides that, I never lied.”

“Besides that? Besides
lying about your identity
?”

“I think you know I have no choice here.”

“What kind of name is Kalden, anyway? You get it off some baby-name site?”

“I did. You like it?”

He smiled an unnerving smile. Mae had the feeling that she shouldn’t be here, that
she should leave immediately.