The Blue Sunfish

"Okay."

"It's not going to give them enough time to clean out their GI tracts."

"What?"

"The fish, I wanted to have them thoroughly cleaned out before flying them to Munich."

"How about we eat here in Sioux Lookout?" I asked.

"Sure."

The Forest Bar & Grill looked out over water. It was clean, friendly but a bit pricy. "I know it's not quite Figlmuller or Plachutta," I said as we looked at the menus, "but according to Google, it's the best rated restaurant here in Sioux Lookout."

"Not to worry," she said, "Laszlo is paying for it."

I had a Blueberry Fire sirloin burger with jalapenos, cheese and Blueberry habanero sauce and shoestring fries, Rose had a Tuscan Chicken sandwich with spinach and fried avocado. We shared the $16 Texas Ranch salad, and each had a tall boy can of Lakeside Kolsch ale made in nearby Kenora. Rose stole a couple of my fries. It was all very good and maybe a little pretentious. I paid for it, but Rose took my receipt.

On our way back to the camp, out of nowhere Rose suddenly said, "Tell me something about yourself, Kevin, that you wouldn't want me to know."

"I'm legally blind and I can't see where we're going. I'm driving by feel and intuition."

"No, that won't work, I'm not buying that one."

"I have a lithspah?"

"No, you don't. Be serious."

I sighed, took a deep breath of courage and said, "I'm a convicted criminal."

"You? There's no way."

"Way."

"Of what crime?"

"Assault. Thankfully not aggravated assault; that's a whole different kettle of fish."

"You? Assault? I don't believe it." She gazed at me in disbelief.

"Sad, but true."

"Is there a story line?"

"Yeah. Are you sure you want to hear it?"

She paused for a moment before she answered, "Yeah, I think I do."

"So I'm at this bar, which I still go to, this is like five years ago. Maybe six. Anyway, it was Monday Night Football. I can't remember who was playing. The place was packed. My regular buds weren't there. I managed to find a free seat. Anyway, I'm talking to these two guys who, I figured out pretty quickly, were fags. I didn't give a fuck. They seemed nice guys. They were football fans. Anyway, it's fairly late and they asked if I wanted to go outside to smoke a joint with them."

"Oh, oh."

"I agreed. Enthusiastically."

She sighed with a worried look on her face.

"They jumped me in the alleyway behind the bar. The one guy had me in a full nelson with his hip into the base of my spine. The other guy stood to the side where I couldn't kick him and proceeded to undo my pants."

"Were they trying to rape you?"

"I don't know what their exact intentions were, but whatever it was, it was not going to include my pants being on me."

Her eyes were wide open.

"We're struggling. I'm being pinned up and numbnuts is pulling my pants down. I simply dropped to the ground with my full weight, bringing the two down with me. My right hand basically landed on a broken brick which I picked up and smashed against the head of the guy that was pulling my pants down. I hit him three times. Twice in the skull and once in the face. There was blood everywhere. I thought I killed the fucker."

"Oh my god."

"The other guy took off. I took off, too, and made my way home. The other guy, it seems went to the cops and got an ambulance. The cops were at my house within the hour."

"Oh dear."

"It was perceived to be a hate crime. Gay bashing. The cops were seriously debating whether I should be charged with assault or the more serious charge of aggravated assault. In the end, after a bunch of pleading on my part, I was charged with just simple assault."

"This is a nightmare."

"Yeah. I get to court, numbnuts who I bashed was sporting a speech slur and scars to the head. Luckily, I had a good lawyer, who was able to not only articulate my case but also demonstrate to the court that numbnuts with the slur had been charged several times, but never convicted, of sexual assault."

"Wow."

"I was convicted because there was no denying that I hit that fucker with the broken brick, but that was enough for the court to give me a suspended sentence and a paltry two years of probation, which was a joke."

"It's not a joke."

"No, it's not. I have a criminal record now, which will never go away."

"I'm sorry to hear that, but it doesn't change who you really are."

"It does, Rose. It absolutely does. I'm sorry for the revelation."

Rose stared out the front windshield as we drove along.

I wondered if I just turned her off me.

Back in camp, after safely tucking away the Ridgeline, we managed to light a small fire and snuggled up next to it. The champagne had been cooling in the water next to the fish cage.

"Congratulations on your successful expedition, Rose."

"Our successful expedition."

The plastic dixie cups didn't actually make a clicking sound. She was telling me all that she would do the next day. I figured I had some time to fish. We didn't actually get to finish the bottle before Rose fell asleep, snuggled in my arms.

Unfortunately, that was it for sex.

*****

Rose was up and out of the tent when I woke up the next morning. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, and it was already warming up. The kettle was just coming to the boil.

"Good morning, Kevin," she said as she stepped up to me with her tooth gap smile and gave me a kiss.

"Good morning, Rose, fish okay?" I wandered off for a piss.

"Everything is fine."

Breakfast was a repeat of fried eggs on Wonder Bread, Kraft cheese slices, pickles and mustard.

"Fruit Punch?" I asked as I held out a juice box.

Rose went straight into science nerd mode as I cleaned up after breakfast. I couldn't really tell what she was doing to the little fish and I didn't want to interfere. She did get me to unpack the oxygen tank and hose before I set off in the canoe with my fishing gear.

It was warm, sunny and still. Probably not the best conditions for catching fish, I figured, now that a had the whole umwelt thing explained.

I could see Rose working away on shore. I could feel her with my umwelt.

What the fuck was I thinking was going to happen? That somehow, she would fall in love with me, just the same as I was clearly head over heels in love with her? Would that happen because I gave her a good fuck? Of course not.

I caught a little pike on a four-inch, gold, floating Rapala. The pike was almost as long as the lure. I tossed it back.

There was no question, I was head over heels for that woman.

I could see that Rose was simply sitting in her fold-up chair reading something. I had guessed that she had finished doing her science thing. I wasn't catching anything, so I headed back to camp. It was still mid-afternoon.

"Sex now, or after dinner?" she asked as the canoe glided to the shore. She didn't even lift her head from the book.

"Not both?" I answered as I climbed out of the canoe. That caused her to break out in a wide grin.

"What's for dinner? I'm hungry."

"Tacos. Guaranteed the best Tex-Mex food in all of Sioux Lookout. And not that cheap no name stuff. We've got brand name Old El Paso stuff. Only the finest for my sweet Rose."

With that she raised her face and smiled at me. "Plus, we've got beer and all kinds of booze left. Cocktail?" I added.

"Oh, there's an idea. What kind of cocktails do you have in mind?"

Sitting down in the fold up chair next to her I said, "I've rye whiskey, gin and white vermouth, so I can make a martini, or kind of a Manhattan, but with white vermouth rather than red. I didn't bring any olives, or Maraschino cherries. Nothing like that, sorry."

"That's okay."

"And it's in plastic cups, sorry."

"I think I would like a martini, dry please," she cooed in her dulcet accented voice, "and shaken, not stirred," she added.

I was a man with a mission. In no time, I had two red plastic cups with dry martinis as ordered and a bag of Lay's wavy, sodium reduced, potato chips. We silently clicked our cups. "Cheers."

"So the fish are all packed up?"

Sipping she answered, "They are each in an individual plastic bag which is numbered, oxygenated and slightly dosed to relax them. That way they won't fight. Each bag is suspended in the cage." I could see the cage was covered with one of the white towels. "In the morning I'll have to put them into new bags with fresh water, oxygenate each one and give them a slightly stronger sedative. It will only take a few minutes."

We sat sipping our drinks looking out over the swamp. It was hot out. There were no bugs.

"It's beautiful here," she said as we gazed out over the swamp.

"Hmm, it is. I'm actually surprised that we haven't seen a moose or a bear or something."

"There are all kinds of birds around."

"Or sasquatch for that matter." I added.

"Bigfoot?"

"I prefer sasquatch. You know about them? Do you believe they exist?"

She chuckled, "That's a tough one. There are certainly a lot of people that do. And every year there are all kinds of sightings reported, especially in the Pacific northwest."

"Yeah, but you were amazed that a little blue sunfish has not been caught before..."

"Not been documented," she interjected.

"Okay, fine, but I think you get my point. We're talking about a big, nine-foot hairy monster. I mean jeez...what's the scientific consensus on this?"

She chuckled, "Well, the scientific consensus is very straightforward. Until a specimen is found, either alive or dead and can be examined rigorously, and then described in the literature as a new species of primate, sasquatch simply do not exist."

"But what do you believe?"

"Well, I will follow the scientific convention, but I want you to think about one thing."

"What's that?"

"In Washington state, there was an anthropology professor, named Grover Krantz who's passed away now. He published all kinds of things about Bigfoot, or sasquatch as you prefer, and was constantly vilified by his peers for doing so. Nevertheless, bravely he endured all of that criticism for years. When I was at Oregon, he was a bit of a cult hero for some of us."

"Okay."

"His central argument was this. Sasquatch sightings" she paused to sip her drink and ensure that I picked up on the fact that she was using my nomenclature for the monster, "have been going on for probably a hundred and fifty years. There are newspaper reports, articles written, eye-witness testimony accounts, legends carried forward from the Native peoples, blurry photos, film clips and so forth. In addition, every year, for decades and decades, people have been finding and photographing and making plaster casts of the sasquatch footprints. And these prints are found in the most remote, inaccessible regions of the northwest. Now, I'm not sure how familiar you are with the Pacific northwest, but it's pretty big, there's a lot of it."

"Kind of like Ontario," I suggested.

"Indeed. So, here's Grover Krantz' basic question: What is more ridiculous to believe? That there exists today and has existed for the last century and a half, a vast secret society whose sole purpose is to go out into the northwest woods, and elsewhere, to perpetrate a hoax on society by placing at the very least footprints pretending to be Bigfoot."

"Ahh..."

"And, and get this, Kevin, that this secret society, never, ever spills the beans and seemingly has no obvious financial incentive to carry on their nefarious deeds. Seriously, why bother?"

"Umm..."

"And let's think this through, this secret society must number in the thousands in order to ensure that every year several footprints can be randomly found by unsuspecting hikers or campers, before the rains wash them away."

I just looked at her funny.

"It would be like us finding footprints in the mud right over there," she said pointing to the far side of the swamp.

I was speechless.

"Or conversely, there are nine-foot tall hairy monsters running around in the Pacific northwest woods and maybe right over there," she said pointing to the far side again.

I just chucked.

"So, which is the crazier explanation? Or, which is the less-crazier explanation?"

I laughed, "I don't know."

"It's a compelling argument though, isn't it?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"There's one more thing to know about Grover."

"What's that?"

"He's in the Smithsonian Museum."

"What do mean, 'in the Smithsonian'?"

"Physically, he's there. Him and his dog."

"But you said he's dead."

"That's right, his skeletal remains along with his dog's, are displayed in the Smithsonian Museum, they're hugging each other."

"Bizarre."

"It's the only time I actually met him."

"Okay, that is frikkin' weird."

"Sorry."

I just glared.

"So do you actually believe in them?" I asked as I stood up to retrieve the gin and vermouth. "Another martini?"

"Sure. But I told you, I'll follow the scientific convention."

I poured more martini for each of us. "Sorry, you'll have to shake. But, isn't that a bit of a cop-out?"

"I don't think so," she answered. "It's not as if I have to go on faith, like believing in God or something. I'll wait for the evidence."

"But you believed in the blue sunfish's existence before having one in your hand."

"Well there was photographic evidence."

"And there's photographic and video evidence of sasquatch, but that evidence isn't enough to convince you of its existence. Do we have a double standard here? Are we being species discriminatory? Blue fish are credible but hairy primates are not?"

She laughed. "The photo and video evidence can be faked. Setting Grover Krantz aside for the moment, you're asking me to believe in sasquatch simply on faith."

"Well that's enough for many people to believe in God, isn't it?"

"That's true."

"Do you believe in God?" I asked.

She smiled, holding her cup ready to take a sip. "Well then, we really are getting to know each other, aren't we?"

"But you didn't answer the question. Do you believe in God?"

"I believe in a God, yes. But I wouldn't say that I'm religious."

"Ya got me. How can you believe in God but not be religious?"

"It's just the way it is. The way I am, I guess. My parents never attended church, I didn't either. But I do believe in a God. A creator God."

"What?"

"But you're a scientist. How is that even possible?"

"Don't try to pigeon-hole what I believe in with the narrative of a bunch of bible thumping hallelujah types. The world was not created six thousand years ago."

"Of course not. But still?"

"I happen to believe that the universe and everything in it was created. By itself, that implies a Creator doesn't it?"

"Yeah, I suppose..."

"Don't for a minute confuse what I believe in with the God that is in the Bible, or the Koran or the teachings of Buddha, or any of that religious dogma. That's not for me. Further, the Creator God that I believe in didn't wave a magic wand and say, 'Let there be light.' Take all those preconceived notions and throw them away."

"I'm sorry, you've lost me."

"Okay. Let's just suppose, for argument's sake, that there is a Creator God."

"Okay, let's just suppose that." I was loving the conversation and the martinis.

"That would mean that He or She, let's for ease refer to Him as male, for the simplicity of language."

"Fine."

"Then that rock," she pointed, "that tree," again she pointed, "the little blue sunfish, you me, everything was created by Him, through whatever means."

"Okay, go on."

"Some of His creations will be aware of his presence and some will not. That rock," she said pointing, "I'm fairly certain, will not. I on the other hand, will."

I held out the palm of my hand, "Is that your point?"

"No my point is simple, I am part of the smaller subset within the larger set of all His creations that are aware of his presence; the rest, like that rock, are just too dumb to be aware."

"What?"

"And here's the secondary point, the brackets that enclose the awareness subset, go right through the human population."

"Whoa, that's a bit blunt isn't it?"

"Why?"

"Your dividing the world..."

"No, the universe," she interjected.

"Okay, universe into what? Sentient and non-sentient beings?"

"'Beings' may be a bit of a confining term, but basically yes."

"So, believers and non-believers."

"No, belief and faith have nothing to do with it. It's more like an umwelt."

"Now you've really lost me."

"Speaking just about people here: most people have within their physical and intellectual make-up the ability to discern the presence of a spiritual entity. Others simply do not. Cannot. Those who do perceive a spiritual presence will rationalize and contextualize that perception based on personal, religious or cultural explanations. It has always been like that and always will. Ask a Native American about their spiritual traditions and they won't describe a blue God named Vishnu sporting multiple sets of arms. Similarly, Hindus don't tend to have visions of the Virgin Mary. To others, it's all nonsense. They can't perceive anything that is spiritual at all. To them you might as well be talking about ghosts, or UFOs."

"Or Bigfoot," I interjected.

"Exactly," she retorted.

I shook my head for a moment, "Okay, I think I understand what you're saying. But let me ask you this. Is the blue sunfish part of your 'aware' group?"

"We don't know. There are lots of scientists, ethologists, sociobiologists, neurobiologists, ecologists trying to unravel fish behavior and to try to understand fish consciousness, even though, granted, we can't put consciousness, fish or human into a jar and observe it. So, we don't know exactly what a fish knows. We are starting to learn some very fundamental things, but we don't know if a fish is aware of God. I don't know if we will ever be able to know that. And how are we supposed to define God in a scientific manner?"

"But as a scientist, and you of all people, must see evolution every day. How can you square that with a belief in creation?"

"First off, I, nor any other scientist sees evolution. We see the results of a process that is labeled as evolution, but which is far more complicated than Darwin's theory of selection through random mutation and survival of the fittest. Epigenetics for example, flies in the face of classical Darwinian evolution; we're getting new insights in that every day."

"What's epigenetics?

"Basically, how your environment can and will change your very DNA, and how your children and all your future progeny will be affected by environmental conditions that you were subject to. It's down-right Lamarkian."

"What?"

"An early theory, basically the belief that you can breed cold-resistant pigs by simply subjecting them to low temperature conditions."

"Okay, fine, but what does that have to do with creation?" I asked.

"I don't see how creation and evolution are mutually exclusive. It's not a zero-sum game, two sides of one coin with no chance of landing on the edge."

"So, God used evolution as a creative tool?"

"I don't know, but why not?"

"Hey, I'm just a painter."

"But there is another aspect of evolutionary science that just grates me the wrong way."

"Oh?"

"The traditional evolutionary mechanism is natural selection through advantageous mutation."

"Yeah." As if I knew.

"Evolution implies that life itself is just the result of a random sequence of events."

"Okay,"

"Evolution then," she almost sang in her mercurial voice, "is a philosophy which says that life is meaningless. If life came about just by chance, if we're here because of some big accident, then life is indeed meaningless, and it makes no difference what we do. It shouldn't matter if we are good or bad, whether we lead a good life or not."

I wasn't sure where she was going with this.

"So, from the perspective of evolutionary theory," she continued, "nothing we do matters because the whole world and our existence is simply an accident."