Sometimes he would leave his work and walk out to the lighthouse to watch the white flail of light strike at the horizons. Once there, of course, his mind would go back to the plankton, and he would think, It’s a protein food of course. If I could find a way to release this food directly to humans, why, nobody in the world would have to go hungry again. And the bottom voice would sing, “Lonesome, lonesome! You’re trying to buy your way in.”
Doc thought he was alone in his discontent, but he was not. Everyone on the Row observed him and worried about him. Mack and the boys worried about him. And Mack said to Fauna, “Doc acts like a guy that needs a dame.”
“He can have the courtesy of the house anytime,” said Fauna.
“I don’t mean that,” said Mack. “He needs a dame around. He needs a dame to fight with. Why, that can keep a guy so goddam busy defending himself he ain’t got no time to blame himself.”
Fauna regarded marriage with a benevolent eye. Not only was it a desirable social condition, but it sent her some of her best customers.
“Well, let’s marry him off,” said Fauna.
“Oh no,” said Mack. “I wouldn’t go that far. My God! Not Doc!”
Doc tried to solve his problem in the ancient way. He took a long, leisurely trip to La Jolla, four hundred miles south. He traveled in the old manner, with lots of beer and a young lady companion whose interest in invertebrate zoology Doc thought might be flexible—and it was.
The whole trip was a success: weather calm and warm, tides low. Under the weed-wreathed boulders of the intertidal zone Doc found, by great good fortune, twenty-eight baby octopi with tentacles four or five inches long. It was a little bonanza for him if he could keep them alive. He handled them tenderly, put them in a wooden collecting bucket, and floated seaweed over them for protection. An excitement was growing in him.
His companion began to be a little disappointed. Doc’s enthusiasm for the octopi indicated that he was not as flexible as she. And no girl likes to lose center stage, particularly to an octopus. The four-hundred-mile trip back to Monterey was made in a series of short dashes, for Doc stopped every few miles to dampen the sack that covered the collecting bucket.
“Octopi can’t stand heat,” he said.
He recited no poetry to her. The subject of her eyes, her feelings, her skin, her thought, did not come up. Instead Doc told her about octopi—a subject that would have fascinated her two days before.
Doc said, “They’re wonderful animals, delicate and complicated and shy.”
“Ugly brutes,” said the girl.
“No, not ugly,” said Doc. “But I see why you say it. People have always been repelled and at the same time fascinated by octopi. Their eyes look baleful and cruel. And all kinds of myths have grown up around octopi too. You know the story of the kraken,[39] of course.”
“Of course,” she said shortly.
“Octopi are timid creatures really,” Doc said excitedly. “Most complicated. I’ll show you when I get them in the aquarium. Of course there can’t be any likeness, but they do have some traits that seem to be almost human. Mostly they hide and avoid trouble, but I’ve seen one deliberately murder another. They appear to feel terror too, and rage. They change color when they’re disturbed and angry, almost like the rage blush of a man.”
“Very interesting,” said the girl, and she tucked her skirt in around her knees.
Doc went on, “Sometimes they get so mad they collapse and die of something that parallels apoplexy. They’re highly emotional animals. I’m thinking of writing a paper about them.”
“You might find out what causes human apoplexy,” said the girl, and because he wasn’t listening for it, Doc didn’t hear the satire in her tone.
There’s no need for giving the girl a name. She never came back to Western Biological. Her interest in science blinked out like a candle, but a flame was lighted in Doc.
The flame of conception seems to flare and go out, leaving man shaken, and at once happy and afraid. There’s plenty of precedent of course. Everyone knows about Newton’s apple. Charles Darwin and his Origin of Species[40] flashed complete in one second, and he spent the rest of his life backing it up; and the theory of relativity occurred to Einstein in the time it takes to clap your hands. This is the greatest mystery of the human mind—the inductive leap. Everything falls into place, irrelevancies relate, dissonance becomes harmony, and nonsense wears a crown of meaning. But the clarifying leap springs from the rich soil of confusion, and the leaper is not unfamiliar with pain.
The girl said good-by and went away, and Doc did not know she was gone. For that matter he did not know she had been with him.
With infinite care Doc scrubbed out a big aquarium, carpeted it with sea sand, and laid in stones populated with sponges and hydroids and anemones. He planted seaweeds and caught little crabs and eels and tide-pool Johnnys. He carried buckets of sea water from the beach and set up a pump to circulate the water from tank to aquarium and back. He considered every factor within his knowledge—relations of plant and animal life, food, filtering, oxygenation. He built an octopus world within walls of glass, trying to anticipate every octopus need and to eliminate every octopus enemy or danger. He considered light and heat.
Eight of his octopi were dead, but the twenty living ones scuttled to the bottom of their new home and hid themselves, throbbing and blushing with emotion. Doc drew a stool close and peered into the little world he had made, and his mind was filled with cool green thoughts and stately figures. For the moment he was at peace. The pale expressionless eyes of the octopi seemed to be looking into his eyes.
In the days that followed, Doc’s disposition was so unpredictable that Mack exhausted every other possibility before he moved in on Western Biological for the two dollars he thought he needed.
Mack’s campaign was probably the most elaborate of his career. It began quietly, and only after a thorough preparation did it begin to take shape. Then spinnerets of emotion laced in and the heavy notes of tragic necessity began to be faintly heard. Drama grew, as it should, out of its inherent earth. Mack’s voice was controlled and soft—no trembling yet—just a reasonable, clear, but potentially passionate growth. Mack knew he was doing well. He could hear himself, and he knew that if he were on the receiving end he would find it impossible not to weaken. Why, then, did not Doc turn his eyes from the dimly lit aquarium? He had certainly said “hello” when Mack came in. A little shakily Mack cut in the vox angelica, the vox dolorosa, and finally a bendiga stupenda so moving that Mack himself was in tears.
Doc did not turn his head.
Mack stood stunned. It is a frightening thing to lay out everything you have, to finish, and have no response. He didn’t know what to do next. He said loudly, “Doc!”
“Hello,” said Doc.
“Don’t you feel good?”
“Sure, Mack. How much do you want?”
“Two dollars.”
Doc reached in his hip pocket for his wallet without lifting his eyes. Mack’s great performance had been wasted. He might just as well have simply come in and asked for the money. He knew he could never reach such a height again. A sudden anger came over him, and he considered refusing the money, but his natural good sense saved him. He stood there rolling the dollar bills between his fingers. “What’s got into you, Doc?” he said.
Doc turned slowly toward him. “There’s going to be one great difficulty,” he said. “How am I going to light them? It’s always a problem, but in this case it might be insuperable.”
39
kraken: Legendary tentacled sea monster of gargantuan size, perhaps inspired by giant squid.
40
Charles Darwin and his