Things That Sink
There’s a strange thing about the sea.
It doesn’t forget.
It breaks things down, sure — salt and pressure take their toll. But it keeps things, too. Buries them gently.
For thousands of years, our lost objects stayed hidden.
A camera lens. A plastic doll’s eye. A data chip that could no longer speak.
Eventually, the sea-thinkers — these beings shaped by pressure and patience — began to find them.
At first, they didn’t care. The objects were dead.
But then, one moved. Just a blink — a flash of light when a wave brushed the right surface. A half-dead sensor flared and went dark.
And something changed.
Not understanding. Not memory.
But a feeling.
A question.
One that spread quietly across their cities of light and current:
Who left these behind?
And why did it feel… familiar?
A Fool's Handbook 