New Atlantis: The Intergalactic Zoo

By Teisha Rowland

Please help me! a faint tinny voice pleaded.

“Athenis, did you hear someone?” I yelled above the buzzing alarms.

Athenis glanced up, her screen’s warning messages reflecting red on her scaly, humanoid face. “No. We’re the only ones securing this sector.” She continued nonchalantly swiping away alerts on her handheld interfacer. “Finish checking on the animals and their exhibits. It’s just another minor tremor—everything should be fine.”

While she only recently transferred to this sector, Athenis unwaveringly radiated calm—more than the typical shapeshifting Atlantean. Her demeanor’s stark contrast to the ongoing buzzes and beeps simultaneously impressed and infuriated me.

Maybe I had imagined the voice.

I trudged along the deserted walkway, eager to finish inspecting the enclosures. Each towered above me, an engineering and biological marvel; a transparent, self-contained ecosystem custom-built for its inhabitants. A slice of each creature’s respective home planet. The alarms mixed with howls, growls, and other sounds not easily described by any human language; a unique cacophony.

Following the recent earthquake, the zoo’s visitors—usually an eclectic assortment—had been evacuated off the islands, back through the wormholes stable enough to support the traffic. Not needing to blend in with aliens for once, I savored the relative solitude.

“Just another minor tremor,” I mockingly muttered, scanning for fallen trees, broken structures, or other damage. Luckily, everything appeared unharmed.

Like all humans, I’d been shocked when the legendary island of Atlantis—with the Atlanteans—returned, its concentric rings forming a small continent in the Atlantic Ocean. The Atlanteans reassured us that they’d learned from their mistakes; New Atlantis wouldn’t disappear.

Also, it was a zoo. Intergalactic Wildlife Sanctuary, I mentally corrected.

The Atlanteans claimed it was the largest sanctuary in the universe. Not that humans could confirm; we hadn’t even ridden a spaceship across our own solar system let alone visited another galaxy. Who were we to question shapeshifting aliens who stabilized intergalactic wormholes, and whose hobbies included studying and cataloging animals from far-reaching galaxies?

I didn’t mind working for them, but I felt like an outsider and found it challenging to trust someone—something?—who changed form so easily. Last week, Athenis had flown in on enormous bat wings. “To avoid the traffic,” she’d explained. Maybe I was a bit envious.

I tried to remain grateful that the high-tech aliens chose creating a zoo—something about the compatibility of Earth’s atmosphere with most lifeforms—instead of enslaving or massacring humanity.

Please help! I’m all alone! The squeaky voice returned, louder than before.

I looked around. “Where?” I asked.

A pod of dolphin-like creatures swam by in a massive aquarium, ignoring me. They’d been rescued from Atlantean poachers and rehabilitated here. Atlanteans used these highly prized animals to develop the “perfect” mermaid transformation, building upon Old Atlantean efforts. The research at New Atlantis was completely humane—a small blood sample sufficed—but poachers used more destructive methods.

Like the passive pod, the rest of the area had quieted too, as Athenis managed the alarms. Looking back, I could just see her, still glued to her screen.

“All animals and exhibits look fine,” I reported on my interfacer, omitting the strange voice from my update.

“As expected, nothing to worry about,” Athenis calmly reassured. “Check Quarantine.”

I plodded down the service path, leading to the Quarantine building.

Come quick! In here!

The voice seemed to come from ahead. I rushed into the structure.

Over here!

I advanced down the closest row of cages, all housing newly rescued animals, some still receiving medical treatment, and stopped at a new, unfamiliar enclosure. Inside, I saw three fluffy, white, dog-sized creatures—“blobbits,” according to a label. They appeared to be a cross between a mop and a marshmallow, with no appendages, and only one eye. Two slept, while the third pitifully cowered.

They’re imposters! The voice came from the frightened blobbit.

“What do you mean?” I asked, looking between it and the others. “And how are you talking to me?”

We talk this way.

“Telepathy,” I whispered. I’d only heard legends; the ability must be incredibly rare.

Yes. But with your kind, it seems to work only with depressingly lonely people.

I sighed.

Their kind—it wiggled its snout toward the other mop-mallows—captured us to learn telepathy, but didn’t finish. They transformed to get “rescued” with me, so they could steal me later.

“Atlantean poachers,” I said in a strained whisper.

Yes! Poachers caused the earthquake. They plan to annihilate New Atlantis! Help me escape!

I hesitated, then opened the cage and picked up the blobbit.

And Athenis took it from my hands.

“Gotcha, Atlas,” Athenis grinned.

“Athenis, those are Atlantean poachers!” I pointed to the sleeping creatures.

“Actually, this is.” She held up the wriggling puffball.

“Let me go!” it shouted.

“You were the perfect bait,” Athenis beamed, dropping the fuzzball into a translucent bag. “We suspected poachers had infiltrated our sanctuary to access the animal databases and sabotage us, but had been unable to locate them. We thought they might use an unsuspecting human. As a bonus, we caught their ringleader, Atlas, king of Old Atlantis!” She raised the sack. “Don’t worry; this prevents shapeshifting.”

“You’re too late! We destabilized the wormholes,” the powderpuff screeched, ineffectually struggling. “Atlantis will vanish, again!”

“Everything’s secured. And we learned from your mistakes. While Old Atlanteans were greedy, New Atlanteans follow the ways of ancient Athens. We value compassion.”

“So, are blobbits actually telepathic?” I asked, catching up.

No, Atlanteans learned telepathy long ago, but we don’t generally disclose this to humans. Makes them uneasy, Athenis spoke in my mind. It also works best with incredibly, desperately lonely humans.

I sighed.

“But since you helped apprehend a highly dangerous criminal, I think you’ve proven yourself. You now belong to the New Atlantean Secret Service.” She winked. “How would you like to be the first human to have giant bat wings?”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Teisha Rowland is a biologist, writer, and geek. She enjoys science fiction and fantasy stories about characters who overcome obstacles to make their crazy world a better place. Teisha balances creative and scientific pursuits, receiving her BA in Humanities and Molecular, Cellular, and Developmental Biology (MCDB), then her PhD in MCDB from UC Santa Barbara. As a scientist, she has extensive scientific publications. Teisha resides in Colorado with her wonderfully supportive husband and family.

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