Jim glances at El, standing at the stove, stirring scrambled eggs. The lovelorn look on her face told him she hasn’t moved on from learning about 52 Blue1—the whale people call the loneliest in the world.
“Maybe 52 Blue is perfectly content with being alone,” Jim said as he poured himself a cup of coffee. “Some scientists think other whales can hear him—they just… think he sounds a little different.”
El stayed quiet.
Jim walked over, turned off the stove, and took the pan from her hands.
“Don’t tell me you also read the poems about 52 Blue,” he teased.
El frowned. “I read so many things, Jim. I keep imagining him swimming alone in the deep, deep water. The world can really be so cruel. Nobody wants to be alone. Not even a whale.”
She swallowed hard. “Maybe he called out, ‘I’m here. Can you hear me? Anybody?’ a thousand times.”
Her voice trembled, just slightly—like she wasn’t talking about 52 Blue anymore.
Jim set the pan aside and stepped closer.
“I hear you, El,” he said softly. “I hear you, El. I’m here.”
52 Blue is a whale known for calling at a unique 52-hertz frequency. Most blue whales call around 15–20 hertz, so this one stood out. No one has ever actually seen it; it’s only been detected through hydrophones since 1989. It has been three decades since its first call, and we’re probably entering the later stages of its potential lifespan. And it’s sad how noise pollution in our oceans now further drowns out its call.
This made me feel a lot of things at once, plus now, I'll have to geek out about 52 Blue! It's always a pleasure reading your piece. ♥️