I took a few minutes to recover. As Nana expectantly watched on, I considered my actions. Sure, following her into the deep had ended up being okay this time, but even considering her association with the shrine’s builder and the god, I definitely had been too gung-ho.

I needed to know about the Apsu, though! Plus, it had been so, so worth it. Well... it wasn’t like she had been an entire stranger, but I admitted my trust had been extended too far.

It was a thought to keep in mind for the future, if–when, I met other people.

I was just opening my mouth, when one of Nana’s arms shot out and made an odd gesture, almost like beckoning.

“Ah, ah. I delivered on what you desired, and so expect payment. Don’t worry, it’ll also cover your fare to my island,” she said sweetly.

“I–uh, I don’t really have much to give… you see, all of the items stored in the shrine have degraded,” I said desperately.

Due to her saying "my island", I'm assuming that the mainland is either too far away or, well, coupled with the fact that she's an old lady and can't go that distance. Especially not with me, currently being a dead weight.

She huffed and said, “Of course they have. An old sculpin like me has more than enough ancient treasures in her hoard, anyway. What I want is a tale, a story, a myth. Surely, coming from so far away, one must have something new?”

I perked up a bit, both at the story and the possibility of getting to see her collection.

“Oh! Oh, yes, I can tell you one for sure!”

I briefly considered my options. Hm, well, what better than one of the first stories ever written by mankind? Truthfully, I was slightly worried about how it would transfer over culturally, but nevertheless proceeded.

Nana was a great listener, intently staring at me with those blue-yellow eyes the entire time. At the start I was sprinkling in ‘um’ or ‘ah’, but soon hit my stride and the narration flowed smoothly.

When I reached the part where Gilgamesh and Enkidu slayed Humbaba, and their reasons for doing so, I saw that Nana's hands were clenched tightly in fists, her body wavering slightly, holding back intense emotions I couldn't place.

“Hm. Yes, in some ways, it describes a very typical demigod. I’ve known such a few,' she said cooly. "They have the lifespans of pigs, fated to be sent to slaughter."

She considered her words, then continued.

“Powerful, above all mere mortals. The desire to etch one’s name into history forever, killing great foes… but instead, he does not die young, in a blaze of glory. His fate is forced onto a different path, becoming a wise and benevolent king.”

I nodded along, then replied, “It’s a good story, isn’t it? But bittersweet. Makes me sad that his only friend had to die for Gilgamesh to finally become a great ruler.”

I was surprised to see Nana look at me and cock her head, a vague expression of befuddlement on her face.

“Enkidu was simply a tool though, wasn’t he? A doll shaped from clay and water by a goddess, not born from a woman, whether divine or mortal. Without melam, a vital spark. There is no cause to weep for him–he fulfilled his purpose, destined to die in the king’s arms. No living thing can last forever, but some are, at first, blind to that fact. Drunk on power and youth.”

She seemed a bit winded after her speech, and massaged her throat. But I could tell she had enjoyed the story just as much as I did, when my father first told it to me many years ago.

I considered the meaning of melam, which obviously had referred to the bubbles I had seen, both in art and life. With knowledge of the language, I did get a bit of context behind the word. However, I didn’t feel that it would be directly translatable as ‘soul’. The sum of someone’s existence, the power of their body, strength of spirit, memories, will, personality, all rolled into one. Not immortal, but something to eventually be transferred and recycled.

“But wouldn’t you say that Enkidu acted just like a normal person? After, using your terms, Shamhat had given him that vital spark of humanity to live and speak as a person? Do you think Gilgamesh was mistaken to weep for him?” I refuted.

“Yes, it seems. In my view, it was just as a child weeps for their favorite toy that has broken. Even if melam is transferred into someone, through death or otherwise, it does not a person make if they had none before. Gilgamesh was a fool in his loneliness, befriending a non-person made from water and clay, simply because it could approach him in power.”

That interpretation irked me a little. But it drove home the point that personhood–or, perhaps, being considered a living thing–was less of a gradient in this world. I wondered how she would see me, if I told her that I (presumably) wasn’t one until a few days ago?

Another idea wasn’t one I wanted to entertain... but did it also exist on Earth, visible to no one? Or simply in a different form?

Going back to the theory that my body had regrown itself from nothing upon arrival here… well, it was an unfortunately favorable point towards the last. How else could my mind have survived? The thought of actually having lost continuity of consciousness made me squirm in extreme discomfort, despite knowing that I couldn’t do anything at all about it.

Nana took my woolgathering as a sign to continue.

“You said this was the first story written by your people, yes? It surprises me that they are not from this world. Are you sure?”

Wait, what?

“The snake, here too, is immortal, you see. Just as the moon sheds its shadow, the snake sheds its skin. It is constantly throwing off death, being reborn again. My own granmama told me about the great world flood that happened before even she was a child. Only those humans who had built up their homes, high and tall on strong platforms above the earth, were of the survivors,” she said, a hint of nostalgia in her voice.

I found it surprising, yet also not. Floods are a dime a dozen in mythology. But the snake? That’s obviously different. I think she means it literally, in real life. I couldn’t help but speculate, but remembered I had to answer her question.

“I’m sure! The parts of the story… well, a lot of the events are just really common to many myths across the world. It’s so old, about–”

My reply was cut short upon realizing that I wasn’t sure how to convey the expanse of time to her. I was, at least, fairly sure a day still consisted of approximately twenty-four hours.

“Um, almost definitely older than you are. Four thousand years… and a single year is 365 days, the time it takes for my planet to travel around its sun.”

She snorted derisively, then chuckled. It devolved into a few wheezing gasps.

“Astronomy exists here, you know. Yes, yes. You make a bold claim. Four thousand… an impossibility. Stories passed from mouth to mouth cannot survive a time such as that. Written languages evolve and go extinct over the centuries, becoming unintelligible.”

“It’s true! It's the same as it was written thousands of years ago. Philologists can do more than you could ever imagine, devoting their whole lives to studying ancient writing systems. One example is when people find scripts, such as the Behistun Ins– er, that record the same text in multiple languages. If they have knowledge of one, all can be deciphered.”

“Hm. I suppose, if your world is so rich and full of plenty that people would be willing and able to spend their time on such inane activities. Finding old stones just to read more of them! Ha. But, truly, your society really has people who spend all their time digging just to be able to read what I'm sure are mainly old tax records and ration lists?”

“Hey, the writings of ancient people are really important in any world, especially to–” I awkwardly replied.

Nana suddenly let out an unusually loud, throaty cackle. It made me flinch slightly.

“Yess, I’m sure you want to know those mystical secrets and powers that the ancients figured out, lost to time,” she said, infusing her voice with sarcastic drama. “I’ll tell you all about them. You need only to ask,” she said, tone acquiring a dangerous cadence.

“What? No, that’s really not what I meant, or what I want!”

“Oh? Spit it out, then.”

“Learning about the past is important because, well, people were just as wise as they are now. So, their knowledge and beliefs, their lives and art, are worth studying…”

I floundered around a little, flustered by the sudden question. It was of the type that made me desperately wish I could take my time to write a whole essay and hand it to her. She probably wouldn’t read past the second sentence.

However, I saw that my statement had earned me a contemplative look.

“Civilizations come and go just as the tide does. Why try to look back on what will inevitably vanish?” she said, as if quoting from a book.

Her nautical similes were a little irritating, though I attempted to take them in stride.

Plus, the bait was irresistible.

“But its fragments will always wash up on shore, and be reused,” I refuted, and then tried once more.

Nana’s slight, but constant smile was starting to grate on me. I was probably the most entertainment she had gotten in years!

“By learning about the past, one can understand how the present came to be, and thus predict the future,” I continued, voice only slightly wavering.

“Ah, your words may not be inaccurate, but my point is that you don’t actually believe in them, yes?"

She briefly inspected her wide fingernails, then kept speaking.

“You are a child of the minnow. You do not care about changing the world for the better, or knowing how the future will be shaped.” She said this plainly, as fact, neither praising nor condemning. “Your desire is simply knowledge for its own sake, an impossible wish to reach a connection and understanding with those who have come before.”

Her face twisted into a genuine, toothless smile. It was still of a sort that left me guessing on any actual opinion she had of my character.

I didn’t feel insulted. She was right, in some ways. I supposed I believed that said knowledge could just be passed on to other people, those with the means and drive to do good. But in this world, who could I trust and rely on to give it to? Would I even be able to find anyone that cared?

However. I felt that if I didn’t grasp and take hold of something right in front of me, this desire I held, I'd truly fall into the deep.

“Cease gathering kelp. One who has travelled, I will escort you later, when the tide has reached its shortest point,” Nana said, voice utterly serious.

She promptly rolled over and went back to sleep.

Quiet snores echoed through the cove.