Aquatic Ape Theory

As the ocean levels continued to rise, landmass became more and more scarce. During one particularly bad storm I was hiding out in a friend’s trailer. It was swept out to sea and we were trapped inside.

However, as our lungs filled with water, a curious thing happened — we did not drown. And, instead of floating, we simply remained neutrally-buoyant with the water.

Meanwhile, the senior science adviser to the President had been apparently murdered, but her body was nowhere to be found.

While wandering around on the ocean floor and looking at the coral and fish, we found that we could not talk, as our vocal cords were not adapted to this environment.

Eventually we came upon a huge underground city. Upon entry, guards separated us. I was funneled into a laboratory of some sort and given an injection.

When I woke up, I was greeted by the senior science adviser.

“Are you surprised to see me?” she asked.

“No,” I managed to croak out, my voice soft and high-pitched.

“Oh, of course, you weren’t there for the ‘meanwhile.’ Well, this city is for all the people like us, the next step of human evolution, adapting to the new ocean-covered Earth.”

She gave me a tour of the facility I was in. One room was filled with children who were partially turned into fish, some from the waist down, some still bipedal but with scales all over, some with fins for arms. They all looked at me, scared.

“Desperate times come for desperate measures,” she said.

I saw a comic book on a table. I recognized the pages as being from the webcomic that I was in. “Would you like to read that?” she asked.

I flipped it open to a fairly early page, and it showed my friend in a dissolving slug suit on the left, facing me dressed up as The Maxx getting ready for a fight. “No, I don’t want any spoilers,” I said. “This hasn’t happened yet.”

“Everyone here has a role to perform,” she said. “We should get you to the career counselor.”

She took me somewhere else and the man behind the desk said, “Bah, another one? Fine, I suppose we could use some more heavy lifting.”

I interjected and said, “But I’m a scientist, I can—”

“Oh, are you now? That’s so great,” he said, patronizingly. “Fine, we will send you to a science labor camp.”

As the adviser to the President walked me out the door, I asked, “What was all that about?”

She looked sadly at me, and said, “Oh, I don’t suppose you’ve seen yourself… I’m sorry, but there is a lot of deeply-ingrained racism based on how some have… developed.”

She took me to the bathroom and I looked in the mirror. My face was that of an ape’s.

“You see, the reparative gene splicing… sometimes it has this effect, where it makes people look like an ape. You may never actually fit into society here… But I have a better plan for you.”

She took me to a large auditorium, and inside were hundreds of people all dressed up in various superhero costumes. I saw my friend, dressed as a slug. He waved excitedly. “Oh, he has no idea what’s coming either,” I said.

“Listen up, maggots!” shouted the drill sergeant from the stage. “I want everyone new to pick up a new costume. We have a huge problem with a villain in waiting, and we need all the help we can get—”

With that, a group of caped villains burst in. The androgynous-looking leader was wearing a skin-tight leather bodysuit and a cape. He cackled maniacally, brandishing what looked like an energy cannon. He started aiming it at people, and they disappeared into puffs of green smoke.

I ran backstage and grabbed the first costume I could find — patterned after The Maxx — and instead of acting in-character, snuck around, stealthily lurking as the villain continued to disrupt everyone in sight.

I came up to his side, and jumped directly in front of him.

“Oh, you want to fight me?” he shouted. “Think again!”

He tried pointing the cannon at me, but I grabbed it and pointed it back at him, causing him to evaporate.

Two beings from the future came up to me and congratulated me on defeating the Red Menace, and said they would return the energy cannon to its rightful owner, one Mr. Abraham Lincoln, in Hell.

My slug-costumed friend said, “Hey, I didn’t get to do anything!”

“Don’t worry,” I said. “You’ll be in a later chapter.”

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