his morning our breakfast was disrupted by a shouting
Helen who came down the stairs yelling something in Russian. The cause of all
this commotion was the passing of our last remaining Triops. Having outlived and
more importantly outgrown the other creatures in the tank, the remaining animal
was set on shedding its skin every two days as if it were still a mere larva.
For weeks now the one we called Metusaleh laid eggs ever day, ate more carrots
than we could grow and ransacked the aquarium in search for either entertainment
or yet more food. Our ever mesmerizing and growing animal grew until it was
about the size of your index finger. Having reached these alarming dimensions
(they should not grow this big) we wondered if we had inadvertently stumbled on
some mutating stimulant with our experiments in diet changes.
Quickly, the one we shall not name because he is Charles
the fiancé of Miriam, was informed and Hubbard, after discussing the matter for
an extensive period of time agreed that however unusual the enormous size of the
monster was not at all out of proportions. Metusaleh of course ignored the
discussion and continued eating and growing. All throughout the life of our
remaining monster we noted down its behavior, eating habits and any other
peculiarities that might be of use later. When I say 'later' then that most likely
means in a hundred years or so when a bright young student from Oxford
reads the logs and wonders what we hoped to accomplish. The poor soul
might even do a dissertation on the hopeless pastimes of confused Victorians.
In any case all the activity surrounding the creature
ceased when Helen found it all bunched up in a corner of its tank. At first she
thought it had grabbed something that had fallen into the water and was now
carefully dissecting it. Not at all an unusual occurrence. But when there was no
movement after regular food was added, Helen grew suspicious. Using the
neurological tools Hubbard always keeps on an examination bench, she carefully
prodded the animal. Triops are not shy and will swim towards anything moving,
but this one would do so no more. Helen then realized the animal had passed away
and proceeded to do her big entrance into our kitchen. Completely unperturbed
Hubbard climbed into the attic space with me following close behind. He did not immediately go towards the tank
but instead opened a cabinet filled with empty glass cylinders closed off on
either side with a base of dark mahogany. He picked up a glass bottle with
formaldehyde and then finally made his way towards the back of the room.
“Jeremy, please fill the cylinder while I take out the Triops”, Hubbard said
in a formal tone. He always turned like that when he used the veil of science to
shield himself from something emotional. The old man had grown quite attached to
the little creature and thought the two had much in common. As I was filling the
Triop’s last resting place I saw Hubbard carefully take out the animal and
place it on a piece of parchment paper. “Not enough time to draw it. They don’t
hold up well outside the water. Look Jeremy the structure completely collapses,
just like jellyfish”, he muttered. I placed the now full container next to the
parchment and watched Hubbard drop the animal inside. Hubbard kneeled; his eyes
now level with the floating Triops: “Luckily I did not do any damage when I
put it on the paper.”
There it now sits, inside a glass cylinder, looking even
more menacing then when it was still chasing food and other Triops. Anything you
put in a jar filled with formaldehyde will turn into something otherworldly and
in the case of this animal the effect was even more bizarre. I am not sure if
Hubbard will continue the experiment by hatching another cycle of larva.
Personally, I would not mind seeing some innocent fish instead.
