Pre-Polar Plunge Hype

Sean Donovan, Staff Fish Bait

This is the story called "A Fish named Swift" resurrected from the old Fish Archives. It is told in narrative form by a young fish named Swift during the primitive times of goldfish. It takes place during a primitive Human ritual named "Polar Plunge" in a pond at "Simon Fraser University," which we now call University of the Fish.

Two suns away from the Great Crash:

The season of Slow Cold has come and gone and light is again beat-ing upon the golden scales of our backs. Grand One has said our numbers drop-ped during the harsh Slow Cold season; we are all thinner now, but at least the Gods have been quiet. Even Old Respected One, who outweighs us by many a stone is still listless and slow. Our stock, of which I am the youngest member, consists of grandchildren, parents and adopted. I have started to rise out of the Slow Cold sleep and play much more, although Grand One would rather have me help with the preparations.
Today is the fifth day for our group as we mourn the past dead and prepare for the Great Crash. This is my first Great Crash, and I have heard many stories. The Respected One tells tales of how his brother was crushed saving Grand One's sister from the Whirl Wind of Noise and Froth as she tried to present the gift.
As is custom, I am told, on the Seventh day, the chosen will swim to the Deep and wait, in feared anticipation of the First Noise. The chosen will present the gift and if re-fused, our smooth silent sky will be broken again and again and all will be in turmoil and mixed into the Great Whirl Wind of Noise and Froth, under which the chosen shall perish.

One Sun away from the Great Crash:
Our Six Suns of Ritual to appease the Gods have almost concluded, and today we stir up great whirl winds of ash and mud from the bottom, dance in the Circle Dance and then under the next sun, present the Gods with a gift. If that does not work, Grand One says we will be at the mercy of the Gods. I am working hard, running errands for the Grand One, for I have a deep fear that what she says is true: I will be the chosen one this season. Grand One told me that she fears our pennance is not enough and wonders if our attempts are futile.
She took me over to the Deep today, and showed me the spot where the Great Whirl Wind of Noise and Froth will start. She said we will be on the other side of the rock before that happens.

Sun of the Great Crash:
It is the rise of the Sun and we did our final preparations; as slow as our movements are in these cold times, we manage to perform the Dance of the Chosen. I was chosen, as my Grand One had told me, and thus I write this, my last journal entry before I swim to the Deep and present the gift.
I am fearful I will not live, but it is a right and privilege to be the chosen. Some have survived before and some may survive again. I hope that much of me. I notice the scent in the surroundings, the quietness of our world and wonder what the Gods must think of us. I hope to see my future some time and a pond that is once again, quiet.

Thank you for listening class, I hope that gives you some sense of your history even if the translation from Old Fish is a bit misleading. Since having evolutionarily surpassed the Humans because of Armageddon we no longer see them as 'Gods', but this rare story which survived the ages gives you an excellent insight into the world of our ancestors.
Please finish the homework for the next Medieval Fish class, and don't forget your report on 'A Fish name Swift' is due February 10th, 9096.

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