BOOM!

The humans have set off another horrible flashing noise machine in the sky. This is the fiftieth I’ve counted this evening, and I have a sneaking suspicion there will be more to come. This late at night, they’re usually all in their homes, leaving me to explore their alleys in peace. But not tonight. Tonight, they’re trying to draw me out of hiding. I don’t know how or when they noticed me. All I can do now is huddle underneath the docks and hope none of them are dumb enough to go for a swim on such a cold night. My thick skin has already produced enough oil that I can’t feel the icy water, but humans are different. They have become less inclined to go near the ocean when their planet is further from the sun.

BOOM!

This one causes red reflections on the water under the docks. Red like their blood. Maybe they assume that’s the color mine will be when they find me. They’re wrong. I don’t have blood the way most of Earth’s land animals do. I have blood the way a jellyfish does — which it doesn’t. Nevertheless, this red explosion can only be taken as a warning. I sink a little deeper into the sea, leaving only my eye above water. This will only work for a few minutes until I need more skin exposed for respiration, but it makes me feel a little safer. Until they send out the next blast, at least.

BOOM!

A group of humans holler above me, a sound almost worse than the clammer they’ve been sending into the sky. Their whoops are like those of dogs on a hunt when they’ve caught scent of their prey. Do they know where I am? Surely not. Humans have horrible night-vision, and I’m as dark as the waves around me. But each bang comes with an eruption of light in the sky. So it’s not just for intimidation then: those explosive flares are search beacons to help them find me. And the humans standing on the dock are calling out to let the others know I’m here.

BOOM!

I’m out of time. Goodbye, sweet Earth. I enjoyed my stay here more than I ever would have expected. It’s unfortunate its native dwellers have turned on me, otherwise I might have prolonged my research simply to explore a while longer. The seasons, the plants, the diversity of life — it’s all so different from what I knew at home. It’s fascinating and beautiful, and one day I want my planet to look like this. One day my employer will realize I’ve been gone too long and send a replacement to finish my work. By that time I’ll have decomposed into the mud underneath this dock.

BOOM!

They whoop again. Why don’t they just come and get me? Are they calling for backup? Then I remember how much they struggle in cold water. Poor things, they’re afraid to come down here. Eventually they’ll muster up the courage, I’m sure, but it will be a difficult sacrifice. I still haven’t figured out what happens to them in cold water (it’s one of the many experiments I’ll never get to conduct), but I hope it’s nothing too severe. For all their misgivings and hostility, I understand why they are afraid. I look nothing like them. I don’t even have a defined shape or color they can wrap their minds around. If I were them, I would want me gone too.

BOOM!

I can’t bear to hear that sound, see that flash again. I know what I have to do. Absorbing excess oxygen from the air, I allow myself to float to the surface of the water. Ever so slowly, the tide does the rest of my work, gently pushing me against the ladder that leads up onto the dock. I work carefully, shaping myself so that I have two arms and two legs. I could almost pass for one of them if I was the right consistency. Rung by rung, I work my way up the ladder until I’m a few arm-spans away from the group that found me. They aren’t looking my way, probably assuming I’m still huddled underneath the dock. I wait for the next flare for them to notice I’ve come up to save them the trouble.

BOOM!

No whooping this time. They saw me, I’m sure.

“What the hell is that?”

I guess they don’t recognize me as their prey when I’m shaped like one of them. I relax, letting myself fall into my favorite state: puddle. They scream. Maybe they think I’m trying to attack. They don’t understand that this surrender is my parting gift. They’re running now, off the dock and towards the parking lot. Interesting. These humans seem rather ill-prepared for the hunt they started. But then I hear chanting. Every human in the area — from the beach, to the boats, to the end of dock — are all counting down in unison. I don’t know what this is supposed to mean. When they get to zero, the loudest succession of detonations of the night begins, brighter and more colorful than any of the previous.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

I retract my eye deep within myself when I hear their final unified exclamation:

“Happy New Year!”