#and casts trans gener beam on her for good measure

[lydiaalin]

drops an f1 driver oc out of nowhere

[shortace]

The Adventures of Gloop and Angry Hamster in the Dimension of Fire Unfamiliar Environment with a Kid Who’s Going To Get Fired

Gloop was pretty smart for a goldfish. It came, he thought, of spending too much time in close proximity to Myles Fowl. That alone, however, would have done nothing; it took the intermediary efforts of the trans-species polyglot Beckett for anything Myles said to make any sense to Gloop. 

Angry Hamster wasn’t very smart, even for a sculpture made of shredded IQ tests held together with saliva. He was too busy being angry because he couldn’t figure out which number came next after 37, 34, 31, 28. Gloop could have told him the answer was 25, of course, and Myles would have informed him that IQ tests really only measure how good you are at standardised tests but his was 170 thank you very much. But Angry Hamster never thought to ask. He wasn’t that smart. 

Dolphin was a dolphin, and exactly as smart as a dolphin.

The sun shone, and a light breeze played with the tips of the waves. No record survives concerning the nature of the game, but possibly Tic-Tac-Toe. What we do know is that the ocean won. The ocean always does.

But Dolphin, leaping and frolicking, cared nothing for the breeze, or the sunshine, or the Tic-Tac-Toe. Her only concern was to have no concerns. And she was remarkably good at it. 

The low hum of a far-off boat reached Dolphin's ears, but she paid it no mind. It wasn't her concern.

Inside Villa Eco, young Myles Fowl was trying to comfort his twin brother Beckett. He wasn’t very good at it, as he often failed to grasp that emotions do not respond to logic.

'She's a wild animal, Beck,' he said again. 'She does wild things.'

'But she said she'd be there!' Beckett insisted. 'Dolphins don't break promises, brother.'

'Your sample size is one,' Myles pointed out, Beckett having only ever met one dolphin, and Myles remained unconvinced that actual communication had taken place, making ‘met’ seem the wrong word for the encounter. 'That is insufficient data to draw a conclusion regarding the reliability of the species.'

'I just know she's in trouble.'

Myles thought that 'just knowing' was poor research methodology, but he just sighed. 'We'll wait for her again tomorrow. Now come on, it's lunch time, and we need energy for our growing brains.'

Gloop, in his bowl, let out a nervous 'Gloop.' He hadn't understood all of the twins' conversation, but he could tell that Beckett was worried and it had something to do with his new dolphin friend. Even though dolphins were mammals, not fish, somewhere deep inside all aquatic creatures was a sympathy with all the rest, and like Beckett, he hoped that Dolphin was okay.

Dolphin was not okay. 

Off the coast of Dalkey Island, a fishing boat loitered. The pilot was sleeping off a bout of food poisoning - which, frankly, served him right for many of his illegal and immoral practices. On deck was a single underpaid, unqualified, and underage employee. Not for him a certificate in aquaculture, nor one in first-aid aboard ship. Moby Dick, though, he had read several times: quite an achievement for any adult, let alone a fifteen year old. The boy did his best to make up for his shortcomings with pure enthusiasm, and had, a few moments earlier, cast out a line with a complete lack of precision and the wrong bait. This wouldn’t normally be much of a problem, as tuna fish aren’t known for being overly fussy, but in this case Dolphin happened to be having a wonderful time just off the stern of the boat, and she wasn’t fussy either. 

The bait was disappointing, tasting stale and dull, and it had something hard and sharp inside it. It hurt Dolphin’s mouth. This would not stand. What sort of ocean gods would provide food like this? Dolphin raised her voice in complaint. 

Sound travels faster in water than it does through the air, so it wasn’t long before Dolphin’s podmates heard her whistles and clicks. Roughly translated, she had said: ‘This fish is bad and it hurts my mouth; send me the manager.’ Her podmates laughed and mocked her, a series of clicks that traveled all the way to the shores of Dalkey Island, where Beckett stood listening. 

Gloop’s laps of the fishbowl slowed slightly as he devoted more energy to his brain. Dolphin was in trouble, and NANNI wouldn’t let Myles and Beckett put to sea. Gloop was going to have to solve this problem on his own. It was a bit harder than figuring out what came next after 37, 34, 31, 28, but not for nothing was he the smartest goldfish in Ireland and perhaps the world. He would have to enlist some help.  

‘Brother mine, what are you putting in the fish tank?’ Myles asked wearily. He had written multiple treatises on the biology and psychology of twins, and perhaps his most important conclusion was that love and exasperation could, and generally did, co-exist. His second most important conclusion was that doubling the calorific intake of one twin could not sustain the other; Beckett had simply bulked up while Myles’ stomach rumbled miserably. He would not be repeating that experiment.

‘It’s a scaled-down version of your water filtration system, attached to a swimming suit,’ Beckett said proudly. ‘Gloop is going to sea, and he needs fresh water.’ 

‘There is only one Gloop, and two filtration systems,’ Myles pointed out.

Beckett held aloft the second unit. ‘This one’s for Angry Hamster. Look, NANNI fixed it to make air for him!’

‘Beck, Angry Hamster can’t swim.’ 

‘Gloop will help him. He told me.’ 

‘Is this about your dolphin friend?’ 

‘Yes, Myles; Gloop and Angry Hamster are going to rescue her!’ Beckett beamed. ‘NANNI has no joooo-ris-tic-shun over them!’ 

Myles had been playing vocabulary lists to his brother while he slept, hoping he might learn subliminally; he was pleased that it seemed to be working, but less pleased about this plan. ‘That is true,’ he acknowledged, ‘but Angry Hamster is made of paper and saliva. He will disintegrate in water.’ 

Beckett demonstrated the watertight suit he had had NANNI design for him. It was monogrammed with a cursive AH on each side. ‘Angry Hamster wants to go.’

Myles sighed. ‘Very well, brother. How are they going to get into the ocean?’ 

‘I will flush them down the toilet,’ Beckett proclaimed.

Beck!’ 

‘Kidding, brother!’ Beckett laughed at his brother’s shocked expression. ‘I will carry them to the beach and throw them in. Gently.’ Despite his boisterous nature, Beckett had a deep empathy and was perfectly capable of being gentle if circumstances required. Myles imagined that introducing two very different non-sea creatures equipped with untested suits into a marine environment counted as circumstances that required it. 

Beckett was as good as his word, and Gloop and Angry Hamster safely - if nervously - entered the waves from the Fowl’s private beach. To Myles, Beckett seemed to be making a series of very strange noises, but Gloop and Angry Hamster each heard ‘Fishing boat, southeast! Good luck!’ 

Being small creatures in a big and strange new world, Gloop and Angry Hamster did not swim particularly fast. They did their small best, though, with Gloop encouraging his papery friend. Angry Hamster got along in a sort of wriggly doggy-paddle, and NANNI’s suits withstood the challenge. Both animals were kept safe and breathing in their own special ways. 

In a matter of hours they had caught up with the fishing boat. Angry Hamster was exhausted, and if the boat’s pilot had not been unwell, he would never have made it. If our heroes understood the concept of food poisoning, they would be very glad for it. The boat remained idle. Angry Hamster was able to cling to the side with one claw, even though it was hard to grip through the material of his suit, and hold up Gloop with another, allowing them both to rest. 

As they rested, Gloop and Angry Hamster heard a voice above them. Angry Hamster could make nothing of it, but Gloop caught the drift of it. If either of them had a full comprehension of English, what they heard would have been something like this: ‘I don’t think this is a tuna fish. It doesn’t look tuna-y. I think it’s a dolphin. I’m going to be fired. I’m in so much trouble. What do I do? What would Ishmael do?’ all the accompaniment of pacing footsteps and heavy breathing.

Gloop caught ‘dolphin’ several times, as well as ‘fired’. He knew two meanings of the word fire: one was hot and burny, and the other was fast and deadly. Neither sounded good for Dolphin. He tried to convey his concern to Angry Hamster, but the fragmented analogy question on the hamster’s back was itchy and he couldn’t scratch it through NANNI’s suit. This, combined with hunger and exhaustion, was making him very angry. He let out a wild screech and clawed his way frantically up the side of the boat and onto the deck. 

The pacing, muttering boy stopped pacing and muttering at the sight of a wet-suited paper-mache hamster climbing on board. He began to wonder if food poisoning was contagious, and if hallucinations were a common symptom. Angry Hamster took advantage of the hesitation to launch himself at the boy’s face, screeching. What he was trying to say was ‘For the love of all the gods, scratch my back!’ But what the boy heard was tantamount to ‘I’m going to claw your face off!’

Gloop knew he had to act fast. High jump is not commonly practiced among small domestic fish, but with determination and a rudimentary understanding of geometry, much can be accomplished even by the smallest of animals. He swam away from the boat to give himself a run-up - or rather, a swim-up - and followed Angry Hamster’s lead in launching himself on deck. 

The poor boy fainted on the spot. 

To one side of the deck lay Dolphin, tangled in fishing lines and nets, flopping weakly. Dolphins can survive several hours out of the water, if it isn’t too hot or dry, and Gloop was relieved to see that, although she was clearly tired and uncomfortable, Dolphin was unhurt and should make a full recovery. But first they had to get her back into the water, which meant getting her out of those nets. 

Gloop knew who had the perfect teeth to gnaw through fishing lines. What he didn’t know was how to convey that instruction to Angry Hamster, who was currently scuttling around the deck looking for something he could scratch his back against - and whose teeth were still enclosed in NANNI’s watertight suit. Angry Hamster finally found a scratching post in the form of a tackle box. It had a sharp corner which dug in through the suit and hit the sweet spot perfectly. Angry Hamster was, briefly, less angry as he scratched. But his suit was meant to withstand water pressure, not tackle boxes. It ripped open, and Angry Hamster wriggled his way out of it. On some level he understood that this was undesirable, and he turned to look apologetically at Gloop.

But Gloop was overjoyed now that Angry Hamster’s teeth were free. He mimed chewing, gnawing, and pointed with a fin at the nets surrounding Dolphin. Chewing comes naturally to hamsters, so Angry Hamster understood immediately, and abandoned his tackle box. It was the work of moments to chew through the lines holding Dolphin on deck. Before she let herself slide back into the ocean, Dolphin took a moment to slap the recovering fisher boy with a fin. 

‘Hey!’ he protested weakly, but she was already gone.

‘There, brother.’ Myles and Beckett stood on the beach on Dalkey Island, looking out to the southeast. Myles had just spotted Dolphin scything through the waves towards them. ‘I told you she would be okay.’

‘And I told you Gloop and Angry Hamster would save her.’ Beckett handed the binoculars to his twin, to let him see the small goldfish swimming furiously beside the dolphin, and the slightly mushy hamster riding on her back. 

THE END (probably)