better and better,” Jimmy said, flashing a broad smile. “Jetfish—I like that, and it will enhance the publicity. I’ll need photos of a pod, of course.”
“Of course,” Kimo said.
In the ensuing silence Alicia waited for a moment, and finally said, “Maybe the fund-raising drive could help pay any overland travel expenses the volunteers need to get to the seashore, and help with their continuing family expenses. Also, we should make house payments and pay other bills for their families while the ocean experts are working with us.”
“Good idea,” Jimmy said. “The students in this high school have already proven their skills at things like that—they just need to think on a broader scale. A much broader scale!”
That afternoon, Jimmy assembled a student camera crew. At Waikiki Beach they filmed Kimo and Alicia remaining underwater for extended periods of time without diving equipment, and Alicia generating her own waves—even larger than her earlier attempts. They also went to the largest aquarium in Honolulu, where Kimo treated a rescued, near-dead green turtle, bringing it back to health.
Kimo and Alicia ate dinner with Jimmy and his wife Latoya that evening, discussing important details of the ocean-rescue campaign, then spent the night in Jimmy’s guest bedroom.
The following day, Jimmy Waimea’s publicity campaign got underway, with a print story in the online version of the Honolulu Mercury News and in its printed edition. The potential volunteers around the world were listed by name and location, and letters were sent to each of them informing them they might qualify to become Sea Warriors—and that they would be provided with the opportunity to be transformed into hybrid humans with gills, along with the ability to eat by filtering plankton from seawater, and other physical changes that were not visible to the naked eye—if they were accepted by Moanna, the Goddess of the Sea. Or, the story added, they might be permitted to contribute to the campaign in some other way as associates, without being physically transformed at all. Those who wanted to undergo the transformation, however—or attempt to do so—would be required to report to seaside pickup points at appointed times, based on a detailed schedule that would be released in the next publicity broadcast.
In the first publicity release, each person on the list was also being told that if the Sea Warriors did not work out for any of them, or if they changed their minds for any reason, they would be returned to their homes at no charge to them. Volunteers were instructed that they must be willing to work long hours, and remain away from their families for extended periods—and that living arrangements were being organized at private homes in Hawaii, because it was unlikely that anyone would feel comfortable spending all of their time in the sea—at least, not yet.
They were also informed that the process of becoming a hybrid (as well as swimming with sharks and other aggressive sea animals) was very dangerous, and that legal release forms would need to be signed.
“Unfortunately,” Jimmy wrote, “it is sometimes impossible to avoid the lawyers.”
***
Chapter 8
Preston Ellsworth and his grandson sometimes took breakfast together in the resort owner’s private dining chamber, a screened balcony overlooking the entrance of the grand hotel. Below them, the flower-lined front walkway was uncommonly silent; no guests arriving or leaving. All the work he’d ordered to protect the beaches was for naught, because the afternoon before, tiny organisms had been found in the water at Olamai and Ha’ini beaches on the ranch, getting on swimmers’ skin and burning them, causing rashes and burning sensations. The mysterious life forms were being analyzed in a laboratory. Several guests had walked out of the hotel or not checked in at all, and now it was less than fifty percent booked, when it should be full at this time of year.
The
“Of course,” Kimo said.
In the ensuing silence Alicia waited for a moment, and finally said, “Maybe the fund-raising drive could help pay any overland travel expenses the volunteers need to get to the seashore, and help with their continuing family expenses. Also, we should make house payments and pay other bills for their families while the ocean experts are working with us.”
“Good idea,” Jimmy said. “The students in this high school have already proven their skills at things like that—they just need to think on a broader scale. A much broader scale!”
That afternoon, Jimmy assembled a student camera crew. At Waikiki Beach they filmed Kimo and Alicia remaining underwater for extended periods of time without diving equipment, and Alicia generating her own waves—even larger than her earlier attempts. They also went to the largest aquarium in Honolulu, where Kimo treated a rescued, near-dead green turtle, bringing it back to health.
Kimo and Alicia ate dinner with Jimmy and his wife Latoya that evening, discussing important details of the ocean-rescue campaign, then spent the night in Jimmy’s guest bedroom.
The following day, Jimmy Waimea’s publicity campaign got underway, with a print story in the online version of the Honolulu Mercury News and in its printed edition. The potential volunteers around the world were listed by name and location, and letters were sent to each of them informing them they might qualify to become Sea Warriors—and that they would be provided with the opportunity to be transformed into hybrid humans with gills, along with the ability to eat by filtering plankton from seawater, and other physical changes that were not visible to the naked eye—if they were accepted by Moanna, the Goddess of the Sea. Or, the story added, they might be permitted to contribute to the campaign in some other way as associates, without being physically transformed at all. Those who wanted to undergo the transformation, however—or attempt to do so—would be required to report to seaside pickup points at appointed times, based on a detailed schedule that would be released in the next publicity broadcast.
In the first publicity release, each person on the list was also being told that if the Sea Warriors did not work out for any of them, or if they changed their minds for any reason, they would be returned to their homes at no charge to them. Volunteers were instructed that they must be willing to work long hours, and remain away from their families for extended periods—and that living arrangements were being organized at private homes in Hawaii, because it was unlikely that anyone would feel comfortable spending all of their time in the sea—at least, not yet.
They were also informed that the process of becoming a hybrid (as well as swimming with sharks and other aggressive sea animals) was very dangerous, and that legal release forms would need to be signed.
“Unfortunately,” Jimmy wrote, “it is sometimes impossible to avoid the lawyers.”
***
Chapter 8
Preston Ellsworth and his grandson sometimes took breakfast together in the resort owner’s private dining chamber, a screened balcony overlooking the entrance of the grand hotel. Below them, the flower-lined front walkway was uncommonly silent; no guests arriving or leaving. All the work he’d ordered to protect the beaches was for naught, because the afternoon before, tiny organisms had been found in the water at Olamai and Ha’ini beaches on the ranch, getting on swimmers’ skin and burning them, causing rashes and burning sensations. The mysterious life forms were being analyzed in a laboratory. Several guests had walked out of the hotel or not checked in at all, and now it was less than fifty percent booked, when it should be full at this time of year.
The
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