The End of a Shift

At 10 pm, Julia switches off the bright light in the living room. Like clockwork.

She taps the dim light fixture on the tank enclosure to softly illuminate the darkness. Like clockwork.

I watch her hips sway. Seconds later, the bedroom door closes and it is my time to shine again.

I wriggle out of the tiny rock enclosure. Six months had passed since it became my exclusive space. The others readily relinquished it; they knew better than to share the rock-bed with someone who cleaned up after them. I waddled through the water, the currents parting behind me. Tonight, it was time to work on the oxygen machine.

Algae had enveloped its cylindrical body in the last few hours. This was soon likely to camouflage the machine into the forest backdrop of the tank. This was a threat to the safety of the other fish.

If left alone for a few more days, it would block the spout that dispelled oxygen into the water. Julia did not learn to do any better since she lost two goldfish to negligence.

She whispered against the glass on the first day that she introduced me into the tank. “You are here to make sure that never happens again.” Here I was, fixing it.

George recited his usual pitch to Julia when she stopped by our home in the store the day she bought me.

“This is the perfect fish to own. Although not very good to look at… a squeamish brown with yellow spots… wide head… flat bottom…”, he swayed with an amused look on his face.

“But!”, he said. He would emphasize on but like our appearance was bad news.

“Plecos do the high maintenance job of cleaning. It is a natural hobby. And they are low maintenance to own. It is a no-brainer to have one”.

People rarely stopped by our tank to look at us. We were usually sold as an add-on, along with the fish food and seasonal collection of aquarium pebbles.

The last time that we were an intentional purchase was when Petra was taken away. She lived the months after in the lobby of a ridiculously tall building. She once watched the people-carrying wall machine count up to 78 before ringing out a loud ding. She did her part, she did it really well. Impressed, they soon brought in my cousin Fred to cover ground in a replacement, larger aquarium a couple weeks later.

Petra and Fred spent a few minutes every evening watching people go in and out of the machine. She told him about how she yearned to be carried in it.

A few days into Fred's new placement, the owners switched the tank back to the smaller sized one. Fred was returned to the store along with the large castle and tree decoration sets that were initially sent with him. The smartly dressed man that brought him back argued with George until he had an itemized receipt for someone called corpret. Fred repeated the tale for a few weeks. It was one of those rare occasions where someone returned to share their story.

When Julia paused in front of our tank, looking directly at me, I was pleasantly surprised. She was curious, and moments after George’s pitch, comfortably sold on the idea to carry me back home. I was the only item rung up on the till. She looked at me unprompted, purchased me with little hesitation. I was optimistic about my new home.

But my body stopped growing since I moved into Julia’s tank. The one at the store was so much larger, but George would typically skip the brief on what we needed to thrive. More recently, I felt this growing pain in my belly and it had begun to slow me down. I was resigned to a fate that was not too pleasant. All I could do was make the most of it as long as it let me.

Julia’s fish were also not very friendly. I missed Lucia, Cherry, and Flora every day since I left George’s shop, but we all knew what we were destined for. There was no strength in complaining. I did my work every night, and politely parroted the occasional "don’t mind me" if I bumped into any of the other fish.

I moved across the length of the oxygen machine a few times before it was restored to its original look. I swept the floor of pebbles nearby, sucked on the tiny shiny rocks, and cleared the debris that peeled off the machine. There was not much else to do tonight. I resumed my routine of sticking to the back walls and gradually swam across to clear the surface and restore its shine.

In a matter of hours, light from the front window brought the living room back to life. The birds began their morning routine of soft singing, and it was my time to rest. I hurried back into the enclosure and flipped onto my back to rest my body. My belly felt heavier than usual and the pain continued to grow inside me. I resisted it for a brief period before succumbing to rest.

In what felt like only a few minutes, I was awoken by a sudden jolt. I flipped around and ushered out of the enclosure before the tank jolted again.

Kimbo, one of the larger sharks, was bumping his head against the walls. The goldfish gathered around to encourage him to stop. This only seemed to worsen the situation. Kimbo began to bump his head against the tank wall with greater force. A classic sign of stress.

Julia picked up on the noise soon after. She hurried towards the tank and began to swipe her hand against the tank glass, occasionally tapping to break Kimbos' flow. He continued to hurl backwards and with full speed, bumped his head over and over again.

Julia looked at me with a plea in her eyes, like this was something I could fix. I looked around to assess the water, it was as clean as I left it. I did not know how else to help. I scanned the tank again in case I missed something.

The next moment, I felt a heavy weight pin down my body. The oxygen machine had fallen over. I desperately looked back at Julia, but she was focused on Kimbos’ rampage. I let out a loud grunt to draw the attention of the other fish.

I remained as invisible as any other day in this tank.

The knot in my belly began to tighten under the pressure of the machine.

I gasped for air.

It was day time. The windows were wide open. The light in my eyes started to dim. Everything around me began to fade into a haze.

My home from George’s shop flashed in front of my eyes. I felt the need to swim right back into it, but it disappeared a few seconds after. It was time. The prescribed destiny, a job fulfilled.

My heart began to slow to a gradual beat, and I started to count to 78. I imagined what it would have felt like inside that machine. In my mind, I was weightless, I was free.

At the mark of 60, my eyes met with Julia’s. She shrugged and pursed her lips. I watched as her hips swayed away from the tank.

Kimbos' bumping seemed to have stopped. All the other fish scattered away. The oxygen machine continued to let out bubbles on the aquarium floor.

The tank faded to a murky grey. The gentle tug of the current ceased. My last breath hitched and I let out my final gasp in the clean water.