"Whenever I find myself slogging through a damp, drizzly winter of the soul," I said to Lupe in answer to her question at our morning rendevous in Cafe Luna.
"And especially," I continued, "whenever my hypo-manic episodes require a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off—then, I account it high time to get to the seashore as soon as I can."
"Okay," she said," I get that, and I can understand that the top of your head sometimes comes unscrewed and you have to pop off to keep from exploding, but what's that have to do with lake creatures, or monsters, or whatever you call them?"
"Not popping off," I said, "getting seaside is recommended by 9 out of 10 Harley Street physicians. Of course, there are times when even the drive to Ocean Isle is too much for the depressed soul and I must satisfy what I'm convinced is the Genome ancestral water-lust with a smaller body of the stuff. Like the lagoons in Brunswick Forest."
"Could we continue this conversation another time? I just want to enjoy my cappuccino."
Before I could respond, she took advantage of still occupying the floor to get another shot in.
"And before we change the subject," she said, "let me remind you that every time you get manic about lake creatures, you get shot down by people who debunk all your so-called evidence. It's so painful to watch you crash and burn, Uncle Geno."
Some of you are probably thinking, Genome, was it wise to ignore Lupe's concern? If you are one of them, it's fine by me. Disagree until your eyes bubble is my opinion. I chose to continue laying out the facts.
"The Brunswick River is an offshoot of the Cape Fear River and it runs along the west bank of Eagle Island. It joins with the Cape Fear again at the southern tip of the island and then empties into the Intracoastal Waterway. In short, it's open to the entire Atlantic."
"But the Brunswick Forest lagoons are not connected to the river," she said. "Those bodies of water are land-locked."
"Lupe," I said, "those lagoons are just a hop and a skip from the riverwalk park in Navassa. If alligators can get from the river to those lagoons, and believe me alligators often do, then a larger creature has no trouble doing the same."
"I realize," I said, "that our lagoons are not the kinds of place you expect to find a legendary creature but neither is Lake Okanagan in central Canada. And yet, that same lake has been the site of several monster sightings for more than a century."
"Over-active imaginations," said the pint-sized naysayer.
""
"The reported evidence was so strong by 1926 that theCanadian government announced that a new ferry would be
built for lake crossings equipped with special “monster
repelling devices."
I was so confident that my talking point was irrefutable that I raised my right eyebrow to challenge her for a rebuttal. This is a favorite tactic, I'm told, of Catherine II, popularly known as The Greatest. Lupe didn't accept the challenge.
"Yep, that’s right," I said. "Monster repelling devices".
"In July 1947, another mass sighting took place from boats that
sat right down on the surface of the water, instead of the cars
driving along the nearby highway. A Canadian postage stamp
was issued in 1990 with an artist's depiction of Ogopogo, the
name given to the creature."
"The Canadian government has a healthy sense of humor," is
all she said.
"Well, I'm not relying on eye-witness evidence this time," I
said. You remember how I've been pining away for my old
familiar surroundings of mathematics and computer
algorithms?"
You're going to create a computer model?" she said.
"Better," I said. "You're familiar, I'm sure, with the
mathematical functions based on quantum fluctuations that
are used to generate probability density matrices for all sorts of
things."
"Yeah, so?"
"Meteorologists use them," I said, "to predict the weather and
military strategists use them to predict the threat level caused
by regime change in North Korea. I once built one for the EPA
that was used to determine the downstream risk to public
health from groundwater contamination."
"I'm going to order another cappuccino," she said. "Trying to understand where you're going with this, I've let my coffee get cold."
"Lupe," I said, "I have to say that I'm extremely disappointed in you. I thought I'd get a better reception from you of all people. And not just because you're my god-neice but because you're usually interested in quantum physics."
"Ok," she said. "I'll play along. What's quantum about it?"
I've built an algorithm based on quantum fluctuations to generate a probability distribution, or the probability density, to help determine which lagoons have the highest likelihood for cryptid residence."
"That sounds like a mishmash of metaphors," she said.
"Is metaphors the right word," I said.
"Does it matter?" she said. "What do you plan to do with the results of this distribution function?"
"Well, I admit, you have me there. I thought about publishing it on my website but then I remembered that you suggested the creature may be a mother with a few youngsters to care for and we don't want to make her life any harder. When I have some results to share, I thought you and I could discuss it."
"Yes, please share it with me before you go public. I fear that if you already feel like knocking hats off the heads of strangers, then the response you get from publishing the results of your algorithm may just wormhole you into another dimension."
"Not the results of the algorithm," I said, "the results of the distribution function."
"Yeah, right," she said.