A Spot in Weyah's Womb

RE: Destiny

I'm in a diner on Coney Island, nursing a mug of hot water—clear, the way I like it. Though I've only been on land for a year now, it feels closer to a lifetime. I am not a part of the human world—or at least, I won't be after tonight, when all is fulfilled and I surrender, once and for all, to my destiny.

It's a funny thing, destiny...

At one point I struggled to believe in Her, but my time here has shown me that we humans are anything but equipped to handle life ourselves. They are unequipped—they.

I sigh into my water. It's amazing how quickly, with a little time, and a lot of distance, we can forget ourselves. And I have surely forgotten.

*

I was just an infant when I was given to the ocean spirit, Weyah. Tossed onto her crashing back, I was not meant to return, but to cross over to the water realm and bridge the gap between our two worlds. But the bridge is decaying, and a mass of plastic lies in its wake.

So I have been called here with a final task to do, though it weighs heavy on my heart to do it.

A shadow startles me back into the present—Mikey.

My mission was clear, before I met Mikey—provide Weyah with the evidence she needed to convince the other spirits that humans cannot change and must be eradicated. Mikey proved the perfect study: raised off the coast of Long Island, he ate undercooked flesh three times a day and worshiped in the church of Football. He did not recycle his plastic.

My mission was clear, before I met Mikey. But then, Mikey spoke my name—

"—Shazi?"

I'm once again jolted back to the present.

I am going to break his heart, and he knows it. I am going to tell him to run away from this diner, from this city—from this entire fucking planet, because none of it will be here after tonight.

I am going to fulfill my mission—no, my destiny.

Mikey signals to the waitress for the check, and we drag ourselves outside. We walk silently.

I wish humans were willing to learn, and I wish we had never invented plastic—they. It is their invention; their crumbling world.

*

A child waves at me from her carseat window. A plastic bag dances in the wind.

"Shazi?" Mikey calls. He's two paces behind me...

...and he is picking up the plastic.

I was not meant to return to this world, but I have. Mikey was not supposed to learn...but he has.

A church bell tolls above us—six o'clock.

In spite of my mission—in spite of myself—I smile.

There's still time.

I look at Mikey, who offers me his hand, now free of plastic. I realize I will do anything to protect him, to protect this world—to protect us; and I realize that this—this is my destiny.