As Jake spoke on the SAT phone another seaweed raft drifted by the ship, bile green and riddled with trash, dead fish dangling from discarded riggings like fingerlings hung in jellyfish tentacles. He remembered reading articles about the Pacific Garbage Ring, a space out in the Pacific Ocean where natural gyres conveyed waste from around the world to a central area, swirling and thickening trash like a giant Coriolis toilet. Some detailed its presence while others argued the claim was rubbish. Given the current state of science—seemingly so easily coerced by ideology and the almighty buck—Jake was never sure what to believe. The phenomenon was no longer in question, however. He’d seen it with his own eyes. And having accidentally swallowed a wad of it during his initiation he even had the physical evidence somewhere in his gut to prove it. Should any of those scientists be so inclined they’d be welcome to have a look; in twelve to twenty-four hours, the proof would be in the pudding.

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