Everybody hates sea monkeys. One of the big cliches of the last hundred years is that the packet promises an express trip to world creation on the packet, but in reality they are brine shrimp swimming in a plastic tub. I do not deny that position. You cannot dress up these creatures, and say they live in tiny houses in a micro society. They are crustaceans, and nothing more.
However, do you know how amazing brine shrimp are? Do you know that they have been taken into space, and survived? Do you know that their eggs can be dehydrated for years, and still return to life? These are jaw-dropping, mystical being, and deserve a higher level of respect.
So I stopped trying to make my sea monkeys bigger. Instead I watched them, and tried to comprehend their routines. I lit a candle to illuminate the tank. One with black wax containing a hint of sea salt.
After a few weeks I awoke to a ticking sound. Well, more of a swooshing noise. I looked at my monkeys. They swam in a smooth and constant pattern. A figure eight, with a slight kink. The motion was so calming. I decided to draw a pencil sketch of the shape. Something about those marks on the paper had a real weight to them.
The sea monkeys changed their pattern every morning for the next ten days. Then the figure eight started again. I had to replace the candle twice over the next six months.
Those symbols teased me every hour of the day. But with enough research I managed to uncover similar lines and swirls on a tablet in an ancient history book. The volume is dated, the photograph poorly printed in black and white But the tablet had the exact sentence, written out in the correct order.
The sea monkeys are dead now. That is how long my translation has taken. I had to go from the symbols to Egyptian to Greek. But now I understand. Time was always the key. The secrets to the Universe were here all along. We just treated them like novelty items.
I bought my new packet of sea monkeys this morning. I have scratched the symbols onto the glass, and dripped my blood into the grooves. My latest candle contains the fat of a real blue whale. The monkeys will dance, and reveal the truth.
