“You’re not allowed out so you’ll have to relax.” Stanley almost didn’t hear the words at first—he was still traumatized by the whirlwind events that had just happened—plucked off a log near his home and put into a series of boxes and cages until an ominous small white coffin carried him here. The voice was thin, questioning, feminine.
“But I got to get back!” Stanly rushed and pressed against a barrier that was hard yet seemed to allow light. His antennae said it was there but he couldn’t see it. On the other side were the mysterious shapes of a world unknown. “The tide’s going to be coming in soon and there’s a full moon tonight …”
“—There is no moon. There are no tides. There is no ocean. ” The voice was firmer, stronger now. “There is just here and now and we are. “
“What do you mean?” Stanley asked, still coming down from shock. He’d just spent several weeks in proximity two or three hundred other crabs which seemed to want to do nothing other than kick his ass. Somehow this place was better: the ground appeared to be some kind of soft sand and earthy material not familiar to Stan but still somewhat comforting. Some of the food that humans typically left lying about on the beach was there along with some rocks and garbage and shells. Stanley rubbed his eyes and looked harder—and was startled when he realized that they were all empty.
“You have ascended into a new world. Perfect bliss has come your way. We all shall be as one. ”
“We?” Asked Stanley. He waved his antennae towards the voice, which appeared to be coming from some kind of garbage shaped like a plastic flower.
“There are three of us now.” The voice said. He peered closer and saw a green shell begin to emerge. “My name is Sarah. Jessica is down somewhere over there molting.”
“But we’re all trapped in this box! There is no ocean! There’s no sunlight? What is there?”
“The human. He comes and gives us all we need. All the food, all the water, all the knowledge.”
“The knowledge?” Stanley asked. “What’s that?”
“New words for things. That is not sand beneath your claws—it is substrate. This piece of plastic shaped liked a flower—it’s not garbage it’s decoration.”
“But there’s no water!”
“There is,” Sarah pointed with a claw to an overturned shell that had a small pool I it. “You can drink all you want.”
“There’s not much there. And I don’t smell any rain to replenish it. And there’s certainly not enough to take a bath.”
“The human provides the rain. He fills it with fresh water daily. And he gives us baths in water that’s perfectly warm. “
“But there’s no ocean? How can we reproduce without waves?”
“One day soon our human will take us to the ocean so we can continue our lineage.”
“But that—that means—“
“Yes. I need to stock up on sperm.” She waved her antennae coyly. “You, um, don’t happen to have any?”
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