Apart from the fact that they are physically as able to live underwater as they are on land, that their skin is green and changes shade depending on their emotional state, that their fingers and toes are webbed and that they breathe through gills on the sides of their necks, the Hliðafgoð are remarkably similar to humans. They tend to marry for life, although divorce is becoming more and more common, and most straight couples have two or three children.
The Hliðafgoð (the “ð” is pronounced quietly, like the “th” in “rather”) have lived in the deepest parts of the ocean for thousands of years. Aby lived in Alisvín-bær (the “æ” is pronounced like “eye”), a city of 2.5 million in the eastern foothills of the Mid-Atlantic Range in the Northern Atlantic Ocean. She’d lived there since she was a teenager, and she liked it fine enough. She found the pace of city life a little too hectic, and the Gulf Stream made the downtown too hot in the summer. The real estate market had recently gone through the roof, leaving her a renter even though she had a good job as a claims adjuster for a large insurance company. Her apartment was small, but not cozy, and was too dark in the mornings. Nonetheless, after twenty hours behind the wheel of the white Honda Civic, there was nowhere Aby would rather have been. Even the scene of the most grisly accident her job had exposed her to had not scared her as much as driving on the 401.
Aby didn’t know whether she was nearing Toronto or already in it. It seemed to her that she’d been driving through the same city for an hour and a half. The traffic got thicker, the driving more aggressive, and the three lanes of traffic suddenly turned to six. Just as a seventh lane was added, a red BMW appeared behind her and pulled up so close that she could see the driver’s face in her rear-view mirror. Aby was too scared to slow down or change lanes. The BMW passed her on the right and was quickly replaced by a blue minivan. The van drove just as fast and came just as close. Aby increased her speed to 100 kilometres per hour, concluding that she would be safer if she matched the speed of the traffic around her. This was the fastest she’d ever driven, a speed she felt was well beyond her abilities, but she still wasn’t going as fast as the other cars on the road.
The blue minivan changed lanes, increased speed and began passing her on the left. At the same time, an eighteen-wheeler began passing her on the right. Both vehicles were travelling only slightly faster than she was. They drove very close to the white Honda Civic, leaving no more than ten inches on either side.
Aby counted the wheels of the truck as it passed her. At six, her gills flicked anxiously. At twelve, she stopped looking and concentrated on keeping the car in the middle of her lane. When the eighteenth wheel went by, Aby pushed out a sigh. The transport truck pulled ahead and then changed into her lane. If not relaxed, she became at least calm, so calm that she failed to notice that she’d merged with the collector lane. She saw exits for streets named Lawrence and Eglinton and Don Mills. Then a sign that told her she was travelling south on the Don Valley Parkway, not west on Highway 401, and Aby began to panic.
She crossed two lanes of traffic to take the Bayview Avenue exit, the next one she came to. She had a choice between Bloor Street and Bayview. She took Bloor because the word reminded her of Bwoor, the Aquatic Saint of Hope. Aby turned left on Bloor, hoping to circle around. She drove over a very high bridge, so high she could see the highway below, and turned right onto Broadview, thinking this would take her there. It didn’t. As she drove south on Broadview, Aby became more and more convinced that she was lost. Her gills began to twitch. Spreading the directions across the passenger seat, she hoped to see something that would guide her. When she finally took a quick peek through the front windshield, Aby saw a long black car in the middle of the street and immediately tried to make the white Honda Civic go up, something it still wouldn’t do.
“Myndað of I am að fara til högg ðessi bill,” Aby said quietly.
She pressed hard on the right pedal, which made the car go faster. Then, using both feet, she stomped on the left pedal. The tires locked and began to squeal, and an ugly smell filled her gills. Her speed diminished, but the long black car kept getting closer. Aby was so convinced that she was going to crash that she kept her eyes open, concluding that very few people had the opportunity to witness their own demise.
No one was more surprised than she was when the white Honda Civic stopped inches from the back passenger door of the limousine. Aby saw two Siðri looking at her from the back seat of the car. Both had very white skin and seemed to be as relieved as she was. Oddly, Aby was able to feel the woman’s relief. They continued to stare at her, their relief turning to shock. Then, quite suddenly, the long black car pulled away.
Aby pushed down on the right pedal. When she’d cleared the intersection, Aby looked in the rear-view mirror. She saw the female Siðri get out of the long black car in such haste that her purse opened and several objects tumbled out. One of these things, Aby clearly recognized, was a set of keys. She kept watching, but the woman did not pick them up.
Wanting nothing but to keep driving, Aby’s conscience got the best of her. She tried to tell herself it wasn’t her fault that the woman exited the black car so quickly. Keeping her keys safe was her own responsibility. Still, Aby felt responsible. She made her first left and attempted to double back, but she drove into a maze of one-way streets. By the time she’d found her way back to Queen and Broadview, the limousine was gone. The keys, however, were still on the asphalt, right where they’d fallen.
Aby pulled over. Keeping the engine running, she struggled out of the white Honda Civic and stood on the south side of Queen Street. She waited for a break in traffic. She took her first awkward step off the curb just as a cube van rounded Broadview. Forced to stop, the driver honked his horn. Aby jumped. The van remained still, the driver open-mouthed, as Aby teetered to the keys, bent at the waist and picked them up. With her fist tightly closed around them, Aby turned and staggered back to her car.
Before moving the stick from P to D, Aby examined the key chain. On one side were white letters on an orange background, an “E” next to a “Z.” On the other side was a photograph of a group of people—probably a family, Aby guessed. Aby was sitting in the car, looking at the picture and thinking about her own family, when she suddenly became incredibly thirsty. Unbelievably thirsty. Thirstier than she had ever been before. So thirsty that she began to drive, desperately looking for water. A pond, a stream, a puddle—anything would do. As Aby’s thirst increased, so did her panic.
Aby drove as fast as she could. Her eyes looked everywhere and at everything. She looked for water on the sidewalks, between parked cars and in third-storey windows. Then, from two blocks away, just as she became desperate enough to try anything, she saw a sign she recognized. The letters “E” and “Z” were in white, set against an orange background. It was the logo from the key chain, and knowing that Siðri needed water too, Aberystwyth pulled into the parking lot of E.Z. Self Storage.
Parking her car, Aby went to the back door because it was the first one she saw. She began sliding keys into the lock, and the fourth one she tried unlocked the door. The handle was different than any she’d ever encountered, very awkward in her webbed hand, but she made it work. Going inside, Aby began searching for water. There was none to be found on the first floor. She couldn’t find any on the second floor, either. Keeping to the shadows, Aby returned to the staircase, and on the third floor she found a tiny room in which water dribbled from something silver.
The fact that the tap dripped enabled Aby to recognize its function. Through trial and error, Aby made the water come faster. Aby drank. She pushed her face all the way into the sink and let the water flow directly into her mouth. She plugged the drain with paper she found attached to the wall, waited until a puddle had collected in the sink, then stuck her head and neck into it. Her gills flapped open and she pulled water through them. She breathed. She breathed again. Her thirst was satisfied, but the effort filled Aberystwyth with homesickness. Leaving the tap running, she fled.