Entry 10

Mavis Island — New Year’s Eve 2009-10 I

After lunch, 1300.

New Year’s Eve on Mavis Island. Those are words I hardly remember expecting to write just a few years ago. That’s before I was accepted into the program. Everyone in the scientific community has heard rumors of the strange celebrations that occur at the University’s far-flung field research installations. The one at Mavis Island is especially shrouded in mystery.

The syncretic origins of the University’s New Year’s Eve celebrations are difficult to trace, even for those well ensconced in one or both communities. On the side of the University, the beginnings of the rituals go back centuries, to the birth of the institution itself and how strange that episode was.

Professor Hans Hansvårt, the founder of the University, engraved directly into the foundation of the original building a map with a legend. The map is essentially the river network of lower New Willonia, dotted with numerous small shapes, such as crosses, triangles, circles, and so on.

The legend is the most interesting part of the engraving. Each symbol is described as representing one of the mythical creatures said to have populated lower New Willonia before and early into human invasion. The cross represents a barroteppon, the triangle a flinged parakeet, the circle a frashed boldon, and other symbols for the giligourd, the dwarvette, the maladon, the long-haired trifter, and of course the fearsome blaskerole.

So many symbols appearing on what is a relatively small region in the second-smallest state in the country has always raised an eyebrow among biologists. How could so many of these notoriously territorial mythical creatures have coexisted in such tight quarters? And why haven’t we ever found any?

Of course for anyone in my field, it’s perfectly logical, albeit not proven, given the properties of the filbosphere. A malopitic curve could theoretically divide physical experience into multiple tranches. It’s much more complicated than this example, but picture a banana. Now peel it all the way to the tip. The strands of the peel represent where we live and, theoretically, where these mythical creatures live. One universe, one banana.

Professor Hansvårt’s own personal beliefs also influenced the early University’s New Year’s Eve rituals. He was convinced that a proper alignment of the symbols, which is to say the mythical creatures, could actually temporarily bridge two malopitic waves, bringing us face to face with them. Every New Year’s Eve, therefore, he brought all the faculty, students, and staff together just before midnight.

The theory goes that the changing of the seasons during the winter and summer solstices provides the ideal time to attempt this transfer of energy from one wave to another. The coincidence of the New Year’s holiday with, roughly, the winter solstice provided the perfect opportunity to merge the event with ancient customs in New Willonia.

The people of New Willonia had long since celebrated the beginning of the new year with their own whooshing. Now, this was not the same style of whooshing, as the University was at the forefront of the new methods developed in the Renaissance. But it was unsurprising to Professor Hansvårt, based on his knowledge of whooshing theory, that this other whooshing ritual seemed to result in a tightening of the malopitic curve, as far as his early instruments could detect.

When the University comes together, reenacting that centuries-old ritual, all are encouraged to find places on the map where the symbols are nearly, but not yet, aligned. Then they are simply to attempt to whoosh them into full alignment. The whooshing has never resulted in a documented appearance of a barroteppon, maladon, blaskerole, or other creature. But stories of such successful whooshing persist nonetheless.

The creatures of Mavis Island, both real and theoretical, are quite different from those of distant New Willonia, of course. There aren’t true believers that the ritual could create a bridge between malopitic waves, thus putting cryptids in the same plane as us, but everyone is curious enough about the scientific theory of it all to humor the old University tradition. And it’s a lot of fun.

It wasn’t all the way back in the Renaissance that the University created the map for Mavis Island’s New Year’s Eve celebrations, of course. The University only reached the island in the last two centuries or so. But the map goes back before Professor Lopez’s time, and that of her grandparents, and even their grandparents. The map is now quite weathered, but with it having been laminated sometime in the last few decades, it should last a few more generations.

Some of the topography and layout of Mavis Island has changed, sure, since the map was drawn. The weather is dramatic, violent often, and large projectiles coming from the sky leave their mark regularly. The funny thing about the map is that the overall shape of the landmarks it featured was originally meant to be inspired by New Wallonia and the original map.

For a long time, the Mavis Island map drew little resemblance to the landform itself. Over the generations, the island has remade itself enough that one can start to see the shapes line up, rotating the old map left or right, squinting one’s eyes a certain way. It’s all really some kind of Rorschach thing, but to me, I see the coastlines of Mavis Island today starting to adhere loosely to the outline of the rivers around New Wallonia centuries ago.

I’ve been practicing my whooshing in preparation for tonight’s events. I’m bringing my dinquoi-trouvain customs with me. I know our breathing exercises aren’t whooshing exactly, but I think I can adjust them to fit in, and bring some of the old country to the party. I’m still going to be fluttering my cheeks and drawing deep breaths of air, though I think the tongue placement should be different. Where I used to plant it firmly in the roof of my mouth, I think I’ll stick it out as far as it will go. This will be more difficult, as far as muscles go, without the embouchure in that position that I may need to maintain sufficient stamina tonight. But I’ll give it a go nonetheless, and see what happens.

I’m going to be meeting CJ at the mess hall for a quick toast, before the others arrive for the official pregame party. CJ is very happy with his new arrangement with the canine technician, Raul Bonneuf. The two have hit it off, and they’ve agreed to see each other again. I’m very happy for my friend and roommate CJ. Though I haven’t known him for very long, he seems much happier having found someone in whom to confide and with whom share the long, repetitive days.

Every day is groundhog day here, for some. I’m often gone the entire day collecting samples, or spending much of it underground in our secure lab. CJ got out of a bad relationship back on the mainland right before this expedition, I’ve gathered, so him meeting Raul Bonneuf now must put his feet on firmer ground.

It’s just me and him today. Professor Lopez seems busier than ever, though I don’t know exactly why. My workload has been steady, and has actually lightened, if anything. And Jacky is acting a little strange. I’m just giving her space.

This morning I was listening to some RHCP. Thinking of you as always, Maria Francesca. Closing the lid on the toughbook, it’s 1315.

All glory to the University.

Pierre Delgado

Close your eyes and
I’ll kiss you ‘cause
With the birds
I’ll share
With the birds
I’ll share this lonely view