Facsimile by Vicki Weavil

With a wave of its solitary flipper tail, it leaps above the surface and dives back under.
    “What the hell is that thing?” I shake Dace slightly. “Come on, naturalist. Explain.”
    “Don’t have any idea.” Dace leans back against my chest, breathing heavily.
    “Wow, some insight there.” I blow into his dark hair to force his head away from my face.
    He lurches out of my arms, falling to his knees. Fumbling with his pouch, he pulls out a holofone. “Pictures,” he mutters. “Must get pictures.”
    “It’s probably gone.”
    “No, I don’t think … ”
    Smooth and silent, the creature rises again from the water. Its eyes focus on Dace for a moment. It rears back as he holds out the fone and snaps several shots in succession. Spinning about, the creature dives and slaps its tail against the surface of the lake, sending a spray of water over our heads.
    Dace instantly curls over his instrument pouch, shielding it with his body.
    “Mierda!” I sputter, wiping my face with one hand.
    Dace straightens and looks up at me. “You got the worst of it.” A smile twitches the corners of his mouth.
    “Shut it, Keeling. This is all your fault.”
    “I hope so,” says Dace, rising to his feet. “I want to claim this discovery. Although,” he adds, with a quick glance at my face, “I’m willing to share the glory.”
    “Glory?” I walk up to him, close enough to bump noses. “What’s so glorious about some fish-things living under our feet?”
    Dace stares into my eyes, his lower lip rolled into a pout, his chest heaving. “Damn, you’re shallow, Ann Solano. Don’t you have any sense of wonder? It’s an entirely new species. Isn’t that amazing enough for you? Think you’re going to discover anything on Earth so unique? No, you won’t. Earth’s been explored and documented from one end to the other. This is new, really new.”
    I shove him back with one hand. “Don’t lecture me. Sense of wonder? Yeah, I’ve got some. I wonder how I ended up on this godforsaken dead-end planet instead of Earth, where I belong. I wonder why I have no future. Take over the greenhouse from my grandmother—check. Marry some guy I’ve known all my life—check. Exciting future—hell no.”
    Dace eyes me, his expression shifting from anger to confusion. “But you have options … ”
    “No, I don’t.” I yank on strands of my damp, unraveling braid. “I don’t have options. Not like you. Not unless I get off Eco.”
    “But this creature—who knows? Maybe it can mean something. Maybe it can help you, all of you.”
    “How?”
    “Researchers will come here. To study it. That means new people, maybe lots of credits if they need to buy stuff … ”
    “Yeah, well, I prefer to take your uncle’s offer and leave, thank you very much.”
    A splash. We turn to stare at the lake.
    The creature has moved close to the rocky shore. I can clearly see its fish-like lower body and large, flexible tail fin. Dace moves forward as if drawn by an invisible string. He stretches out his fingers and touches the creature on its pointed snout. It opens its mouth.
    I shriek and flail my arms, hoping to scare it away, but it simply examines us with bright eyes. Its open mouth displays rows of small but very pointed white teeth. I cross my arms in front of my chest and take two steps back.
    A sound rings out—a reverberating sound, like a cacophony of bells.
    I fall to the ground, heedless of the stone floor. Curling into a ball, I rock back and forth. That sound. That ringing sound—it travels throughout my body, like the steady pumping of my blood.
    Light. Sun.
    “Ann!” Dace’s voice is faint, as if he stands at some distance, though I sense him kneeling beside me. He places his arm around my shoulders. “What is it? Are you okay?” A little shake. “Ann, talk to me!”
    Below. Water.
    “Make it stop!” I’m shouting and I don’t know why. I pull away from Dace’s arm and cover my ears with both hands.
    Air.