The girl entered her grandfather's study, running a towel through her hair. She pulled apart a knot and unearthed a plastic ring. "There were some clear patches today."
She approached Grandfather's sea-glass chair, admiring its craftsmanship as he swiveled to face her: the back was curved to resemble a tidal wave, white shells forming the foam at its crest. It was near impossible to procure sea glass nowadays, but the girl knew Grandfather had his ways.
"That's nice, dear. How was the forest?"
"Growing, as always."
"Forest growth corresponds directly to sales, you know." Grandfather tweaked his graying mustache with a pen. "Did you see anything interesting on your swim?"
"Nothing," the girl lied, biting the inside of her lip. "Grampa, you don't want the forest to grow, do you?"
"Hm? Of course not. It simply can't be helped." Grandfather winked, the Barracuda Co. pin on his lapel gleaming under the lights.
The screen behind Grandfather lit up with an incoming video call and the girl left him to his work — he'd been busy securing a manufacturing deal that would double the durability, and the plastic content, of his disposable bottles.
The girl picked up a phone in the next room.
"Beck? I saw one."
"One what?" Beck's voice sounded scratchy, like the girl's own did after spending a day at Grandfather's plant. To be expected, the girl thought. Not everyone could afford the purifiers.
"A real live ray! I'd only seen one in pictures before."
"What, in the ocean? There hasn't been a sighting in years — do you know how much that thing would be worth?"
"I don't. But I'm sure Grampa does, and he can never know. Just help me get it out of here, before it dies in the forest."
"Send coordinates, but don't get your hopes up. I can't track anything into the forest."
The girl heard a rustle on the other side of the phone: Beck was collecting his equipment.
"I know. Do your best," she whispered.
The girl set down the phone and began the detoxi-wash she should've taken immediately after her swim. She stepped into a stall, waiting while sensors determined which cleansing agents she'd need today.
The whir of an unseen motor preceded a stream of multi-colored liquid. The girl placed her head against the shower wall and began to cry, clear, salty tears carving paths through the detoxifying chemicals on her cheeks.
It's not fair, she thought, remembering the way the ray's fins had buffeted the water as it brushed past her legs. It's not fair that something so beautiful should live near the forest.
The girl began to picture it now. At the forest's outskirts, tendrils of plastic beckoned to the ray, coiling around it's body and pulling it deeper. Plastic bags looped around its mouth like vines. Bottle caps wedged themselves between its gills. The ray bucked and thrashed in agony, but there was nobody to see. Only unrelenting, perpetual plastic.
The girl's tears flowed faster.
YOU ARE READING
The Barracuda's Forest #PlanetOrPlastic
Short StoryA simple plea to the barracudas of the corporate world: do something. Do something before we find out exactly how much the Earth can take. Do something today, so that your grandchildren aren't left to piece together the world you polluted. It's not...
