Lucas was organizing his clubs when the buzzer rang. He had a tee time at half-past four and he couldn’t find the cover for the 3-wood. The prospect of his woods and irons jousting it out on the fairway gave him slight unease and that was before he accidentally spilled the contents of the side pouch out all over the garage floor. He was still cradling golf balls when he found a much too young Chinese man waiting on his doorstep.

  Lucas had a faint recollection of a visitor, but the timing had never been confirmed. He led the young man inside anyway, pausing to check on his plants. “They either die of thirst or I drown them,” he chuckled. “I’m sorry. Could you tell me your name again?”

  “Zhang Yong.”

  “Ah, yes. Please have a seat.”

  His office was furnished with shelves of books. Mostly academic. Medical textbooks and obscure scientific publications accompanied by the entire Encyclopedia Britannica. His guest didn’t seem to notice. He stared straight ahead, causing Lucas to nervously roll the golf ball between his palms.

  “My apologies for arriving so suddenly. I left you a voicemail but perhaps you didn’t receive it?”

  Lucas loathed the phone and left it lying around whenever he could. Presently, it was still on the porch basking in the sun with a half-drunk cup of coffee.

  “No, it’s my fault. I forgot to check it. I am surprised you wanted to meet in person. Usually, if people need to consult with me, we simply hop on a call.”

  “Yes, of course. I understand, Dr. King, but in this instance we wished to keep things secure.”

  Lucas nodded. He was used to some secrecy in public planning, but the Chinese government brought things to a whole new level. First, he had been contacted through his University email by a purported member of a Chinese think tank. That led to a phone call with someone called Lin Lei, who it turned out was not a member of the think tank, but a representative of the China Ocean Mineral Resources Research and Development Association. After much back and forth about Lucas’ work as a public health expert, he was told an official was bound for Melbourne to meet him. That official, who looked all of seventeen, was now sitting across from him and Lucas still had no idea precisely what he wanted.

  “Thank you for meeting with me, Dr. King. My Association does want to express its most profound and gracious thanks.”

  Zhang reached into his bag and produced a canister with Chinese characters running down the side. Lucas took it, then looked at his guest. Inside were brittle dark leaves.

  “We understand you enjoy tea. This is Da Hong Pao from the Wuyi Mountains.”

  Lucas did enjoy tea. Da Hong Pao was one of the rarest and most expensive teas in the world. As much as Lucas wanted to enjoy it, this just made him all the more curious.

  “Mr. Yong, you have traveled quite a distance to meet with me and I am flattered by your persistence and of course, the tea. But I do have to ask, just what is it your association wishes to learn from me.”

  “Yes, of course. We’ve reviewed several of your papers on jellyfish venoms and their properties. It’s our understanding that you’re the leading expert in this area.”

  Lucas was the leading expert, but only because the true iconoclast had recently ceded the field.

  “I think you mean my wife.”

  “Yes, we were sorry to hear about her passing. My condolences.”

  She’d been gone for over a year and Lucas still called her “his wife,” not his “late wife,” or “my spouse who passed away,” or even worse, “ex-wife.” Ginny, as he called her, or Giselle Balakrishnan, PhD, as she was known to the world, had been the real pioneer when it came to their work on Cnidarian research. Lucas was the one who stuck to the classroom, publishing their findings, while she roused herself at 2 a.m. to scour the sea for jellyfish.

  “Well, I’m certainly happy to help however I can.”

  Zhang nodded and reached back into his bag, producing an envelope.

  “Dr. King, please understand that what I’m showing you is extremely confidential. We ask for your complete discretion.”

  Zhang slid several photos out of the envelope along with a form. Lucas wasn’t quite sure what he was looking at. He turned the photo sideways and only then realized it was a leg. Or what was left of it. There was a terrible gash underneath the man’s knee. It traveled around the calf, the flesh so necrotized that the kneecap was exposed. Lucas felt he needed to look away. He coughed and collected himself, letting his gaze drift back to a photo of the man’s torso. A purple discoloration zigzagged all the way up to his navel.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  “What’s this?” Lucas held up a form filled with little Chinese letters.

  “The autopsy report. There’s a translation on the back.”

  Lucas flipped it over. Intravascular hemolytic fractions present. Neurotoxins and cardiotoxins detected. Cardiac arrest, respiratory failure, renal failure. Source of toxin, unknown.

  Lucas rubbed his eyes.

  “Where did you say this occurred?”

  “I’m sorry, Dr. King but we cannot specify the exact location, other than to say it was a subtropical region, nor near any landmass.”

  The open ocean then. Even more peculiar.

  “We were naturally quite shocked.”

  “This is the only incident?”

  Zhang nodded nervously.

  “You shouldn’t have been surprised.”

  “Excuse me?”

  The young man shifted uncomfortably.

  “What’s the most dangerous animal in the sea, Mr. Yong? Don’t think, just answer.”

  Zhang cleared his throat, “A shark?”

  Lucas smiled.

  “Hollywood would have you think so, but no. Sharks kill less than ten people worldwide each year. Now, box jellyfish. They’re much more lethal. Over forty people die per year from their stings. Even one, say, the size of— A golf ball,” Lucas held up the little white ball between his forefinger and thumb, “can kill you in as little as three minutes.”

  Lucas spun the autopsy report around, “But this. This level of tissue damage, the necrotosis… I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “Do you think it could be a new species of box jellyfish?”

  “I suppose it’s possible…”

  He perused the autopsy report again, stopping on the death registration. At the top it read: The China Ocean Mineral Resources Research and Development Association. Mineral extraction. Lucas had heard that there was a push among developed countries to harvest the ore lying below the seabed. China, it was said, was among the leaders in using new technologies to gain an advantage on the competition.

  “Did this occur during a dive?”

  Zhang raised an eyebrow ever so slightly. Perhaps at those depths a new species of jellyfish could exist, but to go out of its way to attack someone? That would be highly uncharacteristic. The diver would have to accidentally bump into the creature and jellies were much more likely to cluster in blooms off the coast where the waters were warm and inviting.

  Zhang pressed on, “Dr. King, in your opinion, would there be a way to create an antivenom?”

  “Any Cnidarian venom is essentially immunogenic. In theory, you should be capable of creating an antibody response. And given how everyone has their own proprietary AI now, you may even be able to find someone that would find it worth doing. But you’d still have to study the creature firsthand before you could produce an antidote.”

  Zhang seemed pleased with his response.

  “We’re prepared, Dr. King, to provide such an opportunity.”

  The young man reached into his jacket pocket.

  “Now just hold on a minute. I’ve got classes to teach. The fall semester is right around the corner. And you’d want someone much more versed in AI than myself.”

  Zhang paused, taking out a letter-sized envelope and resting it on his knee.

  “Would you be able to recommend someone?”

  “There are people here at the university who worked with my wife on the Box Jellyfish antivenom. But I highly doubt they’d be interested. What’s the point of an antidote to a creature you may never even see again?”

  Zhang’s smile disappeared, replaced with what Lucas could only describe as a nervous tic. Perhaps at the thought of disappointing his bosses. But Lucas had an odd sensation that wasn’t the case.

  “At any rate, you’d have to collect the venom first.”

  “Dr. King, of that you need not worry. We are making preparations to do just that. Are you sure there’s no one you can recommend?”

  Of course, his wife would’ve jumped at an opportunity like this. She was happiest at sea, a born researcher. It was a cruel joke the universe had played to spare him when Ginny had so much more to give. His eyes darted down at his watch. It was nearly four. His young visitor waited as Lucas grasped for a name.

  “There is one person. An old colleague of mine. Brilliant, but focused on other aspects of Jellyfish research at the moment, Let me give you his information and you can speak to him yourself.”

  Lucas hastily scribbled his information down and handed it over.

  “Thank you, Dr. King. You’ve been most helpful. And I do hope you’ll reconsider working with us. We could use someone with your expertise.”

  “Thank you, but like I said, I’m anticipating a full course load.”

  Zhang smiled and placed the letter-sized envelope on Lucas’ desk.

  “Thank you for your time.”

  Zhang scooped up the photos and Lucas saw him out. On his way back inside, he stopped to check on the plants again. Ginny had been the gardener in the family. Somehow, between running her own institute and giving lectures the world over, she found time to tend to them. Lucas had tried in her stead, but he could tell the plants were indignant to his touch, the clumsy way he slopped water on them, his quiet cursing as he tried to contort his body around their containers. He gazed at the African Violets for a moment, then realized he’d better hurry off.

  He collected his clubs from the garage, then remembered. The cover to his three wood was in his office. Lucas rushed back to his desk and found the hand-crocheted octopus in the top drawer. One of his students had made it for him. Its tiny button eyes smiled up at him, then he noticed the envelope the kid had left behind.

  He carefully unsealed it. Inside was a one-way ticket to Broome and a check. Lucas’ eyes bulged at the number. He fell into his chair. He and Ginny had started the Port Phillip Cnidarian Research Center right here in Melbourne. Since her passing, their fundraising efforts had fallen short. With this check, they could forestall budget cuts for quite some time.

  His wife had tried for years to get him to accompany her on one of her expeditions. He went to his closet, rummaging around until he found a pair of faded green Wellies. He slipped them on and paraded them back and forth in front of the mirror. He certainly looked like an old fool in his knee-high rubber boots, like a boy who was about to go out and splash in a puddle.

  “Well, Ginny, I hope you’re having a good laugh.”

  Lucas checked his watch. It didn’t look like he was going to make his tee time after all.