Farvel til Pasta

På den syvende morgen kom Polly tidligt ned til tanken. Laboratoriet var stille. Chiara ville ikke være der før om en time. Gangene duftede svagt af havvand og desinfektionsmiddel. Instituttet havde vågnet op sådan hver morgen i hundrede og fireoghalvtreds år.

On the seventh morning, Polly came down to the tank early. The lab was quiet. Chiara would not be in for another hour. The corridors smelled faintly of seawater and disinfectant. The institute had been waking up like this every morning for one hundred and fifty-four years.

Pasta var allerede ved fronten af tanken.

Pasta was already at the front of the tank.

Det var ikke normalt. I seks morgener havde Polly siddet på kanten, mens blæksprutten enten havde været foldet i sit rør, svævende i et hjørne eller hængende fra det øverste glas. I dag var blæksprutten presset mod tankens forvæg, alle otte arme spredt løst mod glasset, hendes ene synlige øje på niveau med Pollys.

This was not normal. For six mornings, Polly had perched on the rim and the octopus had been folded in her pipe, or drifting in a corner, or hanging from the upper glass. Today the octopus was pressed against the front wall of the tank, all eight arms spread loosely against the glass, her single visible eye level with Polly's.

De betragtede hinanden.

They looked at each other.

Hvad der passerer mellem en papegøje og en kæmpe Stillehavsblæksprutte er næsten med sikkerhed ikke venskab. Det er måske ikke noget, Polly ville genkende som selskab. Blæksprutten kunne simpelthen have undersøgt den varmblodede skabning, der havde været omkring hendes tank i seks dage. Blækspruttens hud nær hendes arme var en bleg pulserende lyserød. Blæksprutter kan læse varme gennem deres hud. De kan læse bevægelse gennem deres sugekopper. De kan læse kemien i vandet, der har rørt en anden krop. De indsamlede information.

What passes between a parrot and a giant Pacific octopus is, almost certainly, not friendship. It might not be anything that Polly would recognise as company. The octopus might simply have been investigating the warm-blooded creature that had been around her tank for six days. The octopus's skin near her arms was a pale pulsing pink. Octopuses can read warmth through their skin. They can read movement through their suckers. They can read the chemistry of the water that has touched another body. They were collecting information.

Polly hoppede langs kanten. Blækspruttens øje fulgte hende, så skiftede hendes arme langsomt for at følge med. Da Polly stoppede, stoppede øjet.

Polly hopped along the rim. The octopus's eye tracked her, then her arms shifted slowly to follow. When Polly stopped, the eye stopped.

I syv hele minutter betragtede de hinanden. Ingen kom ind. Vandfilteret summede blidt. Polly var klar over, at dette ikke var normal dyreadfærd, fra nogen af siderne.

For seven full minutes they watched each other. No one came in. The water filter hummed softly. Polly was aware that this was not normal animal behaviour, on either side.

Så gjorde blæksprutten noget, Polly ikke havde set hende gøre hele ugen. Hun foldede en arm ud langsomt, langsomt, og pressede spidsen af den mod glasset præcis der, hvor Pollys fod hvilede på kanten. Spidsens pude hvilede mod glasset. Sugekopperne langs undersiden spredte sig, så blev de stille.

Then the octopus did something Polly had not seen her do all week. She unfurled one arm slowly, slowly, and pressed the very tip of it against the glass exactly opposite where Polly's foot was resting on the rim. The pad of the tip rested against the glass. The suckers along the underside spread, then stilled.

Polly vippede sit røde hoved. Efter et øjeblik sænkede hun sit næb til glasset og rørte det forsigtigt med sit lukkede næb. Gennem det kolde glas, på hendes side, var der ingenting. På blækspruttens side, måske en hel del.

Polly tilted her red head. After a moment, she lowered her beak to the glass and touched it gently with her closed beak. Through the cold glass, on her side, there was nothing. On the octopus's side, perhaps a great deal.

Armen blev der i et langt minut. Så gled den tilbage i vandet.

The arm stayed there for one long minute. Then it slid back into the water.

Chiara kom ind tyve minutter senere med to kopper kaffe. "Du rejser," sagde hun og så på Polly. Det var ikke et spørgsmål.

Chiara came in twenty minutes later with two coffees. "You are leaving," she said, looking at Polly. It was not a question.

Polly vippede hovedet.

Polly tilted her head.

"Jeg forestillede mig, at dette ville ske," sagde Chiara. Hun satte kaffekopperne ned. Hun gik hen til tanken. Pasta var drevet tilbage til sit rør. Chiara bankede en gang på glasset med en kno. Pasta rørte sig ikke. Chiara smilede. "Hun lader som om, hun ikke bemærker det. Hun gør dette, når hun er ked af det."

"I imagined this would happen," Chiara said. She set the coffees down. She walked to the tank. Pasta had drifted back to her pipe. Chiara tapped the glass once with one knuckle. Pasta did not move. Chiara smiled. "She is pretending not to notice. She does this when she is upset."

Polly strakte sine blå-grønne vinger.

Polly stretched her blue-teal wings.

"Rejs sikkert," sagde Chiara. "Der er meget af havet, jeg ikke har vist dig. Det meste af havet, faktisk. Vi er bare et institut på en kyst." Hun vendte sig mod sin kaffe. "Kom tilbage, når du kan."

"Travel safely," Chiara said. "There is much of the sea I have not shown you. Most of the sea, in fact. We are just one institute on one shore." She turned to her coffee. "Come back when you can."

Polly lettede fra kanten. Hun kredsede en gang over tanken. Pasta kiggede ikke op. Polly fløj ud gennem den lange gang i instituttet, forbi sardinerne og tangplanterne og den lille blæksprutte i hjørnet af sin tank, og ud af bagdøren ind i den lyse morgen i Villa Comunale.

Polly lifted off the rim. She circled once over the tank. Pasta did not look up. Polly flew out down the long corridor of the institute, past the sardines and the kelp and the small octopus in the corner of its tank, and out the back door into the bright morning of the Villa Comunale.

Napolibugten åbnede sig foran hende. Vesuv lå på den anden side af vandet. Havet var en farve, hun havde brugt en uge på at lære at tænke på som én krop, med mange kloge ting indeni, kun nogle af dem kunne en papegøje nogensinde møde.

The Bay of Naples opened in front of her. Vesuvius sat across the water. The sea was a colour she had spent a week learning to think of as one body, with many smart things inside it, only some of which a parrot could ever meet.

Hun steg op. Hun drejede. Hun fandt den østlige vind.

She climbed. She turned. She found the eastward wind.