THE FISH & THE WATERFALL

Once upon a time, there was a girl who wanted to save the world. But, the world didn't want to be saved... or so she thought. Her name was Lan-Yung Cheng. She liked painting, swimming, and spending time with nature. She wasn't sure what she believed in, exactly. Maybe there was a God, or spirits, but she couldn't know for sure. So she stopped asking. It didn't matter what anyone told her about the worlds above and below, and beyond... because she was deaf. Her father, Han Cheng, was born in Hong Kong. Her mother, Lauren Fields, was born in Carhood, on the British Albertan coast, and she was the daughter of a deep sea explorer. Han and Lauren met when they were small, and fell in love. Their love grew up with them, too. One day, when they were eighteen, Lauren's father took her back to Canada, rather unexpectedly. She was returned seven months later... with child. Lan-Yung was born on October 13th, 5521, on the S.S. Independence, in Bell Harbor, Hong Kong. Han and Lauren got married, and raised Lan-Yung in Carrood. Together, they'd visit the beach, and cruise on the water in Han's speedboat... however, it was not to last.
Lauren soon left Han. Her father had been paying rent for a very expensive apartment for them to live in, but their benefactor passed away. Han was forced to take Lan-Yung with him to New Prezzo, in British Alberta, UC. There, she could attend a school for deaf children like herself. She was away from the sea, but here, her needs were met. Han had a job, she had friends, and things were good. Even the people of their city seemed more accepting than most, of her disabilities and her mixed heritage. Millennia ago, people once proudly declared that 'racism was over'. Lan-Yung imagined that, at some point, someone must have started it up again... because it was still here. But she caught more flack for being deaf, most days. Which was a surprising relief. She didn't actually have to hear anything mean that people said to her, she just had to avoid reading it from their lips – and from the expressions on their faces.
At home, Lan-Yung liked to keep up on studies of her own heritage. There was a lot to learn: Grandpa Fields was Finnish and Danish, Grandma Fields was Nordic-Inuit, and Han's lineage spanned most of China, the Polyisles, Eastern India, and even Japan. And that was only in the last few centuries – at this point in history, anybody could really have come from anywhere. The entire globe was a web of branches and roots, spanning itself several times over. The illusion of 'race' was a thin, wavery one at best. There was really only one, that being 'the human race', as nobody had ever met any aliens from beyond the stars, nor had any animals ever attained the sentience necessary to compete for a vote. And it was a varied one, to say the least. She was having enough trouble learning all the history, let alone the languages, the customs, and the holidays. She had to know written English and American Sign Language, which felt natural enough; body language is a form of communication that pre-dates speech anyway, she figured. Then she had to learn Cantonese and Mandarin, and so on... it was looking like a lifetime of studies. Luckily, she had plenty of time. Though she had her friends (deaf kids stuck together), their group was small enough that they could only hang out so often. But something was about to come between them, something nobody could have anticipated...

It all started last August. Unexpectedly, she'd hit her head during swimming practice, and blacked out. She woke up in a hospital, and was told that she'd drowned, but been brought back by restarting her heart. That was when she started to feel it: the itch. It crawled up and down her body, like fire and needles. It crept into every part of her, and she felt like she was dying – no, like she WANTED to die. Her father, worried sick, tried to feed her a tuna sandwich – but the instant she smelled it, a spiking sensation pierced her forehead, and she vomited on her lap. He left it for her on the stand beside her bed. It made her queasy, the salty aroma rashing at her nostrils, and she asked a nurse to take it away. It lingered for a day, and she braced her stomach as she slept that night. She'd eaten practically nothing but fish since the day she was born – it was just what you did, when you lived by the sea. Sure, everything was vegan, glufree, whatever, but... there was just no beating the taste of a freshly-caught salmon, fried with a bit of garlic, lemon, and butter. Salt and pepper on top. But ever since she'd hit her head, she found that she could no longer stand the taste, nor the smell, nor even the sight of it. And she couldn't understand why. It felt like a piece of her home had been ripped away from her, except it was sitting right in front of her. It was the home itself, the experience of it, that had been taken... leaving a lump of useless pink flesh staring at her, on a plate.

The only thing she could eat for a month was rice pudding and bananas. The rice was modified not to have any 'psuedoglutens', just like all the corn. They hadn't yet figured out how to do the same for wheat, but they were working on it. For now, it sufficed. Then, she discovered she liked mango, pineapple, and oranges, and even carrots. Especially carrots. All of them were fruits and vegetables she hated before, and now, they seemed to be a world she'd been missing out on. She'd always followed her nose and her gut when choosing a meal, but lately, it was taking her in different directions. Anything even remotely meaty or milky, or god forbid eggy, was out for good. Soy, too... it was just too musty. Like eating liquid ox-shit. It never used to bother her before, and she'd always loved the pungent flavor. Now, it was offensive. She still knew at least two hundred types of edible sea creatures, and could name them by heart. Her favourite fish of all, cod, was the one thing she wanted the least. That was when she realized that it wasn't her favourite food at all – it was her dad's. She was, in fact, allergic to all of it.
So she quit eating the things she didn't like anymore, and slowly, she began to change. She noticed her body was different in several ways, over time: she was slimmer, and stronger. Her skin grew loose, which terrified her, but then tightened up again, better than ever. She could feel herself sweat, and then she could feel everything. Her scalp became less sore, and she hadn't even been aware that it was sore to begin with. Her hair grew in faster, and thicker. Her head pounded like nothing had ever hurt before, and it agonized her for weeks on end. She wanted to die, all over again. Then it would subside, slowly. She found that lavender tea helped a lot, and eventually, she could bear the pain until it was manageable again. Then, after a few months, it was almost gone. Her immune system became stronger, and she was getting healthier every day. Then, something else started happening: a cooling sensation in her eardrums. They were swollen, she learned, and rapidly unswelling. That's when this static started swarming her on all sides: an awful and a simultaneously pleasant vibration; oily, clean, wet, dry, harsh, soft, big, small, stinging and soothing, and in all ways contradictory to itself but mostly just very INSISTENT on BEING. It was only a week later when she realized what it was: sound.

She was diagnosed with Sensorineural Hearing Loss and Conductive Hearing Loss of the inner and outer ear, and deemed incurable, at two years old. Now, she could hear a pin drop down the hall. It was worse than deafness... it was torture. The beeping noises of monitors, the rushing carts, the voices... the ever-rushing, never-ceasing, self-absorbed and determinately self-important VOICES... she felt like her head was splitting open. Some days they were music, and other days, like cannons. Every time Han tried to take her home, she told him she couldn't go just yet. He didn't understand what was happening, but he knew it was somehow related to her ears, so he managed to keep her hospitalized for five months straight. Some nights, she slept with a pillow over her head. Some days, she just slept in. Finally, she asked for a pair of headphones, and put earplugs in under them. They cushioned the blows, and made it easier for her to understand which sound was coming from what. Eventually, she began to disassemble the nonsensical garbage coming from people's mouths by cross-referencing with her lip-reading courses. Most of the time, people wouldn't even speak their own tongue the way they were supposed to, and it was all the more frustrating.
Eventually, she got the hang of it. Another three months had passed. She'd missed so much school, she wound up doing an entire grade-year's work in the hospital library. Doctors checked in on her, as they searched for references to help with surgeries and treatments. She enjoyed listening to them talk about operations, procedures, and pharmaceuticals. By the time she'd finished her first quarterly multiple-choice exam, the nurses were asking her for clarification on what the doctors had said before. She knew where half the books in that room went, at least by their general subjects. Han had always wanted a boy, and dreamed he'd grow up to be a doctor. Now, Lan-Yung hoped to give him the doctor he always wanted... even if she couldn't be the boy.