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ONE FISH FOR THREE
Episode 2: The Only Option
Six days have passed since the pinnipeds made the discovery that would permanently change their lives. They knew the consequences, and they were unable to do anything about it. All that was left was for the final decision to be made by Mr. Sigurdsson and the Professor… much to the latter’s reluctance.
MR. SIGURDSSON: Good day, Professor.
THE PROFESSOR: Good day, Mr. Sigurdsson. You may sit.
MR. SIGURDSSON: We have successfully completed our report on analyzing the native varieties of fish and other seafood based on biological and economic factors. It has been determined that the best options we were able to find are haddock and halibut. Haddock is an excellent protein source, while halibut provides the fat content their diet requires. Together, they satisfy the pinnipeds’ nutritional requirements more effectively than relying on only one of them alone.
THE PROFESSOR: Hmm… very well then. We shall proceed with the review of this report. Our commitee will thoroughly examine this piece before reaching a final decision on how we proceed.
MR. SIGURDSSON: Excellent. Thank you for your cooperation. Good day, Professor.
THE PROFESSOR: Good day to you too, sir.
Mr. Sigurdsson stands up and leaves the office. The Professor remained seated, with his eyes still fixed to the now empty chair facing him. The moment the words “Thank you for your cooperation” departed from his lips, the Professor sensed a disturbance that has now gotten unbearably close both to him and to the seals he has spent his life studying and caring for, like a snake wrapping around his leg. The thought that Mr. Sigurdsson had ulterior motives had entered his mind and couldn’t escape, despite knowing he didn’t have much of a choice in this matter, given that this was their sole option if they wanted to keep the reserve alive.
The report prepared by Mr. Sigurdsson and his team has been reviewed by the committee. It has been officially accepted... way faster than expected. The new policies have been declared effective by Monday next week. Just hours after the confirmation, notices started appearing in the break room and the corridors. They just hung there, unread and forgotten about. Although the workers didn’t really care about this change to the reserve’s policies and perceived their most recent staff meeting as a routine procedure, this topic went insane in the seal circle. The gossip exploded within minutes, and the number of pinnipeds that were, let’s say, revolted, was not so small at the end of the day.
SIGGI: Well, shit. They fuckin’ did it. We ain’t eatin’ no foreign stuff no more. What are we gon’ do now?
MAGDA: I guess… we’ll try making the best out of this situation.
SIGGI: Nah, Magda. There ain’t no makin’ the best outta anythin’ in this shit. Look at the damn workers! Do they look like they give even an eighth of a fuck ‘bout us?
MAGDA: Yeah… I feel like Professor doesn’t really… care about us as much anymore. It seems like he thinks of us as an annoyance and a pain to keep around. He claims to love us, but things aren’t adding up. What’s going on?
SIGGI: It ain’t just Prof on his own. That motherfucker Sigurdsson, he’s gotta be coercin’ him into doin’ this to us. He’s got Prof wrapped around his skinny ass finger, we all know it.
It seems I have forgotten to mention an extremely important detail in Mr. Sigurdsson’s report. The document contains a provision according to which not only will the food supply be limited to local species, but it will also be distributed through a rationing system. This policy seeks to help the reserve meet its expenditure targets, meaning that the amount of food given to the pinnipeds will be closely and carefully regulated. Although this course of actions makes sense from a financial standpoint, it would prove far more controversial than anyone could have imagined.
Saturday afternoon has arrived. The employees all gather up one by one in the break room. A staff meeting had been scheduled by the Supervisor, who is due to make the announcement of their new policies being implemented. The only sounds that fill the room were made by the chairs where the employees are sitting on. Nobody is speaking… other than the Supervisor.
THE SUPERVISOR: Good afternoon. Today we will be discussing everything about our new regulations on the seals’ food. First, they will be fed haddock and halibut, as outlined in Mr. Sigurdsson’s report that was approved earlier this week. And second, food will be handed out in rations every day, based on the pinnipeds’ needs. Adults will receive 4 kilograms of a mix of halibut and haddock in equal amounts. Juveniles will be given 5 kg, but slightly higher amounts of haddock to support their growth and development.
The Supervisor has finished explaining the new policy. An uncomfortable and suffocating silence fills the break room. No one is speaking.
THE SUPERVISOR: Does anyone have any questions? If you do, I am more than open to answering.
Still, the number of people coming close to opening their mouths to speak is precisely zero. Some seem like they understood all that was said, some may have mentally checked out before the Supervisor had even begun to speak, and some just don’t care. It’s not like they even got paid enough to care. The reserve had to lower their wages ever since the financial hardships hit full force. The workers all glance at each other tiredly, because these new rules meant that they would have to put in more work than they used to. They now had to weigh all the fish, portion it, hand it out and keep tally of who gets what, all of this to ensure the quota per seal was met… repeated every single day onwards. These people were positioned to receive anger from the seals, despite it not even being their decision to make. They would be the ones to stand in front of them. They would be the ones to withhold food from them. And therefore, they would also be the ones to blame. The seals won’t get to see any documents, they only get to see the workers. And they will know the food is not enough.