Plankton Embroidery

Plankton are the essential but often overlooked base of food webs in marine and freshwater ecosystems. They can be defined as small, often microscopic organisms that are unable to swim against a current. Plankton are a very diverse group of organisms including algae, diatoms, protozoans, and the eggs and larval stages of crustaceans and other larger animals. Inspired by the scientific illustrations of the German scientist and artist Ernst Haeckel, Biology students chose a plankton species to research and embroider. Students focused on the role of their chosen plankton in its ecosystem as well as the organism’s key characteristics.

“The whole project got started because of an underwater sound we picked up in our Cuba lab, that had apparently been heard by every hydrophone in the Gulf of Mexico. That kind of radius is nearly unheard of outside of something like the Bloop, but we don’t get any icequakes around the equator. And besides, it wasn’t just some random sound we picked up. I could only describe it as a deep, guttural breath, like a long, thundering sigh. It only played for about thirty seconds, but it didn’t take us long to get in touch with all the other labs. Soon enough, project Yampa was underway, named after the ‘Sleeping Giant’ of Yampa Valley,” he said, leaning forward on the bench as he recalled the events. “The first team to go would have a drone scout out the proposed epicenter with its camera, and then the dive team would move in, find out what it was, fix the issue if necessary, and come back. Simple as that.

“When the day finally arrived that we were set to go, I was in charge of the recording hardware for the drone and dive suits. Cameras, all the film equipment, video review, the works. I’ll always remember it like it was yesterday, the sky sunny and clear, dappled with tufts of cloud. The boat was premium grade military equipment, pristine clean, floating gray on the vast ocean. The slow breeze felt empty, and the whole environment seemed serene, like a still image of the ocean view. The one thing that stuck with me was the vastness of the sea that day. Looking out across the horizon, the water seemed to extend infinitely onward, escaping the reach of the senses, leaving us on the boat lonely. Looking down, the color pooled at the edges of my view, and in the center, lay the cavernous, deep blue of the water. It felt terrifying, not in a frightening way, but in an inevitable way. Like the terror of the sun exploding one day. Just waiting. Biding time. But for now, it was calm.”

He took a deep breath in. Now was the hard part. He caught his breath and continued: “When the drone first went down… everything seemed fine. Diagnostics read pressure as normal, no chemical changes. All the visuals were fine. It was dark and grainy, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. It was when we hit about 1500 feet down that things changed. Slight shifts in the water, and the same thing on the visuals, and the drone just disconnected. The winch was slack, and so we reeled it back up. It looked like it was in mostly fine condition, other than a few marks from what looked like pressure damage. The tech inside got jumbled around a bit in whatever it experienced, some cracked and some misplaced. Footage seemed fine, but I was rushed, so I couldn’t have made out what had caused the force. The corps decided to still send in the divers, Davies, Finley, Kholson, as you know, and Sullivan, despite the potential dangers. Something about a ‘priority objective’. It was clear that the mission was going to continue. At the time, I thought nothing of it.

“When the divers went down, the sinking feeling in my stomach was something like I’ve never experienced since. I had this awful urge to tell them to swim back to the bell, but I knew I couldn’t do that. And down they went. And we waited, up on the boat, for the depth meter to increase. Gradually, that “1500 feet” number slowly got closer. Everyone on the pod was holding their breath. Then, nothing. The number kept increasing. “1515”. “1525”. “1545”. And everyone let out a sigh of relief. The mission was well underway. But it was then that I noticed something on the screen where the video feed was displayed. Something about that grainy darkness.” He gazed at the ground beneath his feet as he sat, gathering his thoughts before continuing.

“...It didn’t… it wasn’t the water. And it wasn’t the camera. And as I looked closer I realized that it wasn’t anything on our end; the feed was crystal clear. The dark distance in the water moved the same way, all at once like a massive wall. Shifting around the divers. And just as I made the realization that it wasn’t just the water down there with them, it was all so sudden. A brief mumble played over the comms. The number stopped. “1563 feet”. The cables to the divers in the bell snapped taut, and two split. Another mumble sputtered out over the radio. Then silence, all except for the waves. The gentle splashes felt deafening.” He leaned back again, unrelaxed as he spoke.

“When the bodies were pulled back up… Finley and Kholson… they were both dead. Complete mental shutdown, with decay seen at the eyes and cerebrum, as if they had been eroding for months. Finley… there was no question about him. I don’t think anyone could’ve survived that. Kholson was still intact, and the footage was recoverable. As soon as the corps higher ups got onto the deck, though, the bodies got swept away and the whole operation quickly ceased. No recovery effort was made for the other divers. Ever since, the area is prohibited from entry. The only one allowed to see anything… was me. I needed to review the footage before the damaged camera got transported. I was meant to say nothing to anyone, and just send the tape… but before I did, I made a copy. And that’s why I’m here.”

He handed her the tape. Her shaking hand reached up to grasp it, gently holding it.

“No one else on the planet has seen this tape. And I want you to understand that I’m not giving you this to destroy it. I’m not trying to get rid of it by passing it on. And it’s up to you if you want to take it or not. I just think that you deserve to know the truth of how your son died.”

A long moment passed as the two sat on the bench overlooking the water. The ocean was calm.

William Butler ‘24

Harry slowly stepped down an unfamiliar creaky, brown staircase. It had a smooth, dark and solid banister which was much softer than the bright stainless-steel ones he had seen all his life. The lights produced a soft golden yellow glow, which was forgiving and pleasant for his eyes. Although, he did find it a little bit harder to see details of things given that he was accustomed to bright LED lighting. Harry felt apprehensive, like there were tiny robots operating miniscule brushes uncomfortably close to his stomach lining.

Albert liked to tell him that this feeling was called “having butterflies in his stomach.” Harry did not know what butterflies meant. It was not clear whether they were something Albert made up, or something that one of his old books had made up. Albert was an old, wizened man who ran a library in the colony. He was old enough to remember the amser natur and treated it with a nostalgic reverence. Albert kept a stash of old books about amser natur in a back room of his library. They had been very popular with the elder generation in the colony, but those people had mostly passed on now. The governing body of the colony had founding principles and thus could not legally suppress information of the amser natur; however, they did make it very hard to get. Now that there was less demand for information on it, Albert feared that the government might begin to eradicate any memory of the amser natur.

That is why when Harry had asked him about trees, Albert directed Harry to this museum, one of the last of its kind. Albert thought that it was a tragedy that the younger generations only learned about the inefficiencies of the plants and trees, only saw their cells and could never appreciate their true beauty. At the bottom of the stairs there was a dark brown door made of a similar soft material as the stairs and the banister. On the door was a brass plaque reading: “Museum of Nature.” As he stepped through the doorway, his breath was taken away. He had entered a very long, grand hallway with the same soft lights as the stairs. On the wall were huge pictures of unfamiliar objects. He was struck by their bright colors and distinct, beautiful shapes. Immediately one picture caught his eye. It was longer than he was tall and portrayed a huge object sitting on a wispy green floor. The high, vertical shape was held up by a brownish textured tower. Branching out from the shape were arms covered with thousands of green shapes. Harry looked below the painting, words titled the painting: “Maple Tree in the Spring”. Harry could scarcely believe his eyes. How could this be the same trees that were horribly inefficient and irrelevant, as he had been taught? They were too beautiful. He continued walking. His legs were shaking slightly from excitement. Soon, he came to a picture with a blue background and many colorful structures, creating wild shapes in it. Around those structures, seemingly suspended in midair were forms of some sort. They all had different colors. Some were long, skinny and black others were gray and huge and yet more were yellow and blue and slightly triangular. Harry quickly read the blurb below the painting. It described a “coral reef” in an “ocean” and the suspended shapes were “fish”. He was eager to see more. Harry walked further. He saw more trees, this time in different colors and shapes. He saw the top of a “mountain”, a geological feature made of rocks, covered in fluffy white precipitation called “snow”.

As he reached the midway point of the hallway, his pulse had quickened and he smiled broadly. He couldn’t understand why he wanted to reach out and touch the objects in the pictures, but he did. He imagined what the air must smell like.

He could not reckon with why his colony had left this beautiful world. After a long time studying different pictures and their blurbs, Harry reached the end of the halfway. He saw another door, this time, the recognizable metal door of restricted areas. However, the lock, usually on these types of doors, had been removed. Taking a final look at the museum, Harry slowly opened the door and slowly stepped up the stairs, aware with every step of the risk he was taking.