On the front cover of the prestigious Nature journal, a headline captures the scientific world's imagination: "Revolutionary Insight: Intergenerational Memory Transfer via DNA Methylation More Extensive, Mysterious, and Influential in Ichthyology." Central to this groundbreaking study is the phenomenon observed in the ichthyic populations of the Eternal Bubble Bay, an until-now obscure marine sanctuary nestled in the rich waters of the Red Sea. Here, researchers have unveiled what seems to be a natural mechanism akin to an afterlife. Sophisticated epigenetic alterations may carry echoes of the parent fish's experiences, potentially influencing the consciousness of their progeny.
This discovery has profound implications, suggesting that these sea dwellers possess a continuity of consciousness, an enduring legacy transmitted across generations. While humanity has long grappled with the concept of an afterlife, it appears that fish have naturally evolved to encapsulate eternity. The silent swimmers of the Eternal Bubble Bay glide through the waters of time, embodying a form of immortality that humanity has only dared to dream of.
The next step in this unfolding saga of discovery? A team of world-renowned scientists, equipped with the latest in marine biology technology, is being dispatched to the Eternal Bubble Bay. Their mission is to collect samples for in-depth genetic analysis.
The potential revelations from this research are immense, not just for ichthyology but for our understanding of genetics, memory, and even consciousness itself.
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Youâyes, you, inquisitive readerâmay be wondering what this all means. Well, as it turns out, Iâve been elected to tell you.
Iâm Margarita, a resident of Eternal Bubble Bay, the subject of this scientific discovery mentioned above. In the depths of the ocean, where the water whispers tales older than the mountains above, lays my home, a small, vibrant reef known as the Eternal Bubble Bay. Or EBB, as some young fish say.
I donât know what DNA, methylation, or epigenesis means. But in EBB, we call it âBubbleBridging.â For souls are like bubbles: happy, colorful, and easy to burst. Plus, we do love naming everything âbubbleâ here. Let me attempt to explain this article (in my simple fish language, of course).
In EBB, BubbleBridging (consciousness-bridging) from one generation to another is a deeply intimate and selective process. It occurs only at (or shortly before) death, and itâs not a random transfer; itâs an intentional choice made by the dying parent who passes a part of themselves to a child. Only one child. The one they feel most bonded with. This can result in intricate familial soul networks, where a child might carry the soul of a parent, grandparent, and even great-grandparent.
My mother passed her consciousness on to me, as many parents have passed pieces of themselves on to their children. But how, exactly, did I become the vessel for these ancestral echoes? I donât think my mother, Fiona, felt a particularly deep connection to me. But when her time came, I was the only available child for her to transfer to. My mother, Fiona, has.âŠ.
(Fiona: "Margaritaaaaa, donât hog all the spotlight, Darling! Let me introduce myself...
Hellooo, Gorgeous! âMy daughter, while she carries me with her, hasnât quite picked up the family charm. Allow me to enchant you with my storied history: my life was a marathon of medical study and practice. Love, passion, these were luxuries I couldnât afford, or perhaps, I never allowed myself to explore. My physical encounter with the nuptial embrace, or letâs call it love making, happened just once. That brief interlude gave me Margarita and her siblings.
Now here I am, living through Margarita. You see, what I craveâwhat I yearn for deep downâ is to experience those aspects of life I skimped on â the thrill, the intimacy, the raw connectionâ).
Oh dearâŠIâm sorry for Fionaâs, um⊠You see, my mother and I have always had different goals. Iâve never been interested in intimacy, it feels like, uh em an⊠orgy between all of these souls? Gross.
(Fiona: "Oh, but Margarita, you donât even know what youâre missing! But before we move on, let's not forget that unlike Margarita, who was, well, the only option available for me, I was the coveted choice of a long lineage of strong-willed female fishes. Mooooom, come here, introduce yourself, you lovely chubby mother).
(Ursula: âOh Fiona, how many times did we discuss giving Margarita more space. Let me introduce myself quickly, I'm Ursula, Margaritaâs grandmother. In my time, I scrimped and saved every bit of shell I had to put Fiona and her siblings through medical school. I was obsessed with their success, so much so that I often went hungry. Now, as a part of Margarita, I can't seem to get enough of eating. Anything and everything, all the time. And Margarita, bless her, she loves eating as much as I do. We get along wonderfully, indulging in the culinary delights of the seaâ).
(Fiona: "Yes, and before we move on letâs not forget to mention the three other great grandmothers who couldn't bear the sight of my surgeries. It was too much for them, the blood, the precision, the life and death of it all. Two of them chose to extinguish their soul presence in my lifetime. And one is still here with us (Virgilia), she is mostly mute, only letting out a rare scream now and then. As long as Margarita stays away from the dangerous currents and the bad fish in the ocean. She might not say much, but she is always watching, always caring. Ah my dear Virgilia, let us live life a bit, why so scared and so serious. Life is not a surgeryâ).
Me: âEveryone, shhhh.â
Reader, when you occasionally complain about your parents getting all up in your business, imagine generations of parents swimming through your brain. BubbleBridging is not always as romantic as that science article makes it seem.
Let me introduce myself briefly. I've always been the awkward one in school. While others swam about with grace and confidence, I found myself bumping into coral and daydreaming about the mysteries of the ocean. Hobbies? There's my not-so-secret love affair with food, a passion I share with my grandmother Ursula. Our culinary explorations under the sea bond us; whether it's munching on the crunchiest kelp or savoring the sweetest plankton, every meal is a delightful adventure we relish together. Boyfriends? The idea is as foreign to me as the dry land above. You might say I'm sheltered, a bit of a home-reef fish, and you wouldn't be wrong. The vast ocean terrifies and fascinates me in equal measure, so I tend to just keep to our small neighborhood in EBB. So, here I am, a somewhat lone observer of the underwater world, accompanied by a chorus of ancestors who are anything but quiet. And despite the occasional frustrations of living with such a crowded inner world, I wouldn't have it any other way.
(Fiona: âAww, Margarita, that is so lovelyâ)
Anyway, I hate talking about myself, and this is not why I rented this prime online real estate. Where were we? Oh yes, the Eternal Bubble Bay and the impending visit from human scientists! I woke up the other day with all the fish gathered around a copy of the journal. Pride swelled in our gills, yet there was a palpable apprehension at the thought of some human scientists visiting. The residents of EBB decided to elect a representative to welcome the scientists when they arrived and speak for us to the human world. But who to represent us? Some of the fish were excited, some were weary, and concerned about the risks. After all, each single fish may carry thousands of precious lives within it.
The fish could not seem to agree about who to represent them. I heard lots of arguing among the residents as I swam by. Many were afraid to leave their families behind. Who to BubbleBridge to when they are gone? Those who were bold enough to volunteer were deemed too valuable to be sent away. I was daydreaming, I have to admit, so I didnât hear much of the debate. Just talk of children and fishy families that Iâm not a part of. I was startled when one of the fish shouted, âMargarita!â and then "Yes! Let Margarita be our representative!" echoed through the crowd. Me, of all fish? To join a team of scientists learning and changing consciousness in all beings?
I have been quite numb all my life up to this moment. Not in the wildest dreams of my great grandmothers nor in the meticulous surgical theaters of my mother, Fiona, had such a destiny been foreseen. While Fiona saved lives one at a time, amassing to maybe a thousand over her lifetime, here I was: Margarita, chosen to alter the course of existence for every being potentially. Deep down, I always sensed I was meant for more than just being an indulgent eater for Ursulaâs soul or a conduit for Fiona's unfulfilled and gross desires.
(Fiona: "Margarita, wake up! They're not choosing you for your strength; they see you as childless, lonely, and thus less valuable. This is not as grand or noble as you think. We canât do this. The scientists will skin, kill, and eat us in the lab. Youâve never left EBB! The world is a terrifying placeâ).
Me: âShhhh FionaâŠ.â
Despite Fionaâs gory tales and the tremors of fear that rippled through me, I knew it was time to rise to the occasion. I answered yes. I swam to the port, not carrying any luggage, but the weight of EBB's hopes and history pressed heavily upon my dorsal fin. It was a moment of profound realizationâa simple, daydreaming fish tasked with a mission so grand it could shift the tides of our world. Wow, just wow.
(Virgilia: letting out one of her rare screams.)