Above all, Boris was glad to be free of them all. Of course he loved the pod, of course. They were his blood, his kith and kin. But god, the bellowing. They never seemed to stop. Vibration upon and less deep vibration, the constant reverberation of their lumbering vocal chords- how was a whale supposed to think.
“I’m going to the sky,” Boris announced one morning. “It’s not forever. I just need a vacation.”
For once the whales were silent.
“How will you get there?” asked Boris’ sister Julia. “A whale has never been to the sky.”
“I don’t know yet,” said Boris. “Maybe I will jump very high and see if I can land in the clouds.” Julian laughed. So did Thomas, Jeremy, Ishmael, Wanda, Edgar, and Butch. It was deafening. Rafts of jellyfish and schools of lampreys scattered in fear. A tidal wave boomed off the coast of Newfoundland. And without looking back, Boris jumped.