The Problem With Thirty-Three

Chapter Fifty-Two

The Problem With Thirty-Three

By nine in the morning, Gray had been informed three separate times that the pond contained thirty-three Magikarp.

The first report came from Tessa, who said it while leaning in the doorway of his office with a clipboard tucked beneath one arm. The second came from Marcus, who had apparently counted them independently because he had not trusted Tessa’s count after what had happened the previous week. The third came from Elias, who had not counted anything himself but had cross-checked both sets of notes and found no mathematical reason to doubt either of them.

Gray listened to the third confirmation, looked through the office window toward the distant shimmer of the ranch pond, and rubbed one hand slowly over his face.

“There were twenty-nine.”

Elias adjusted his glasses. “Originally.”

“Then there were thirty-one.”

“Yes.”

“Now there are thirty-three.”

“Yes.”

Gray looked at him.

Elias waited.

“That is an increase.”

“I’m glad the concussion didn’t affect basic arithmetic.”

Gray ignored that. “Nobody brought in more Magikarp.”

“Not according to intake records.”

“No trainer boarded two here and forgot to mention them?”

“No.”

“No one rescued any from somewhere?”

“No.”

“No temporary research specimens?”

“No.”

Gray leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling for a moment, as though the answer might have been written there by somebody more organized than him. The problem was not serious. That was part of why it had managed to irritate him so completely. After the last several weeks, his threshold for what counted as a genuine emergency had been pushed into unreasonable territory. Two unexplained Magikarp should have been refreshing.

Instead, they had become personal.

“I want a proper count.”

Elias lowered the clipboard he had been holding. “Tessa already did one.”

“I want an individual count.”

“That is what a count usually is.”

“No, I mean identify them individually.”

Elias stared at him for a beat longer than necessary. “All thirty-three.”

“Yes.”

“They’re Magikarp.”

“I’m aware.”

“Most of them look like Magikarp.”

“That is generally how species work.”

Elias considered saying something else, decided against it, and nodded toward the window. “Tessa said you’d do this.”

“Do what?”

“Turn it into a project.”

Gray stood and reached for his field jacket. “It became a project when the number stopped making sense.”

By the time he reached the pond, Tessa had already set up two folding tables beneath the shade of a broad tree near the water. One held a scale, measuring board, camera, temporary marking tags, several shallow transport tubs, and enough towels to suggest she had anticipated either incompetence or enthusiasm from the Magikarp. The other held food, water-testing equipment, and a stack of laminated forms.

Marcus stood at the edge of the pond with his hands on his hips, looking into the water as if personally offended by it.

“You realize,” he said when Gray approached, “that there are only so many ways two fish can enter a pond.”

“Then this should be easy.”

“That is what I said yesterday.”

“And yet there are still thirty-three.”

Marcus looked back at the water. “I liked you better underground.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“No. But you were farther away.”

Tessa glanced up from the forms she was sorting. “You’re not lifting anything heavier than a clipboard.”

Gray stopped beside the table. “I’m medically cleared for light activity.”

“You interpret ‘light activity’ like a lawyer.”

“I interpret it accurately.”

“You tried to carry a crate this morning.”

“It was mostly empty.”

“It had forty kilos of feed in it.”

“That is mostly empty for a crate.”

Tessa gave him a look and handed him the clipboard.

Gray accepted this compromise with what dignity he could preserve.

The pond itself looked aggressively innocent. Morning light moved across the surface in broken reflections, disturbed every few seconds by the flash of orange scales beneath the water. One of the Gyarados surfaced farther out, rolled lazily enough to send a broad wave toward the bank, then disappeared again without interest in the humans gathered nearby.

Gray watched the water for a moment.

“How are we separating them?”

“Temporarily,” Tessa said. “One at a time. Visual identification first, measurement second, photo third. If there’s a reliable natural marker, we use that. If there isn’t, temporary tag. No sedation unless someone becomes genuinely unmanageable.”

Marcus glanced at the pond. “Someone.”

Tessa ignored him. “We’ve already got a few obvious ones. Seventeen, obviously. Twenty-three has the damaged dorsal fin. Nine has the darker scales near the tail. Fourteen has that little pale patch under the left eye.”

Gray looked at her. “You already know that many?”

“I work here.”

“So do I.”

“You’ve been busy getting concussed.”

“That happened once.”

Marcus coughed into one hand.

Gray looked at him.

Marcus said nothing.

The first several Magikarp were easy enough to handle. Tessa used food and a shallow guiding net to bring them into a low transfer basin one at a time, minimizing the amount of time each Pokémon spent out of the main pond. Gray recorded length, weight, visible markers, and behavior while Elias photographed both sides and Tessa checked fins, gills, and general condition.

The process was slower than simply counting orange bodies in the water, but it was also far more satisfying.

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Number Two had a slight notch near the lower edge of its tail fin. Number Five was broader through the body than the others. Number Eight became oddly cooperative whenever Tessa scratched beneath its jaw, which Gray filed away under information that was scientifically irrelevant and nevertheless useful. Number Eleven had a habit of opening and closing its mouth rapidly whenever someone held the measuring board nearby, as though objecting to the methodology.

By the tenth fish, Gray had begun to appreciate why Tessa had insisted on doing this properly.

By the fourteenth, he had also begun to regret asking.

“Six hundred and twelve millimeters,” Elias said.

Gray wrote it down. “Weight?”

“Seven point eight.”

Tessa released the Magikarp back into the pond. It vanished beneath the surface with considerably more urgency than it had shown during the examination.

Marcus looked at the running list. “Fourteen done.”

“Nearly halfway.”

“That is a malicious interpretation of the word nearly.”

Gray glanced toward the pond. “Where’s Seventeen?”

Tessa pointed without looking.

Number Seventeen was hovering several meters from shore.

Gray recognized him immediately, which remained the only comforting part of the entire census. The Magikarp had a small pale scar near the base of one pectoral fin and a disposition that eliminated most possibility of confusion.

Tessa picked up the guiding net.

Number Seventeen saw it.

Gray watched the Magikarp’s posture change.

“Here we go.”

The attack was not impressive by normal Pokémon standards. It was extremely impressive by Magikarp standards.

Number Seventeen accelerated toward shore with enough determination to send a narrow wake behind him, struck the net sideways, twisted, struck it again, and then attempted to bite the mesh despite lacking any anatomical equipment that made this strategy sensible.

Marcus caught the handle before Tessa lost it.

“Why is he like this?”

Gray crouched beside the water. “Strong personality.”

“He’s a fish-shaped workplace incident.”

Number Seventeen splashed hard enough to wet Marcus’s boots.

Marcus closed his eyes.

Gray looked away before his expression became incriminating.

Tessa managed the transfer on the second attempt by abandoning the net almost entirely and using food to lure Seventeen into the shallow basin. He remained furious throughout the inspection, striking the sides of the container with his body whenever anybody moved too quickly.

“Same scar,” Elias said.

“Same weight range,” Tessa added.

Gray checked the old record. “And approximately the same hostility.”

Marcus looked down at his soaked boots. “Approximately?”

“Scientific caution.”

Number Seventeen was returned to the pond first.

He immediately attacked the empty guiding net floating near the bank.

Gray marked the identification as confirmed.

By noon, they had twenty-six individually documented Magikarp and an increasingly complicated spread of equipment around the pond. The work had attracted spectators. Blissey arrived with water and stood nearby long enough to ensure Gray drank some. Chatot landed on a fence post, watched two Magikarp being measured, and announced, “FISH PROBLEM!” with enough satisfaction that Gray briefly considered returning him to the house.

“Accurate,” Marcus admitted.

“Do not encourage him.”

“FISH PROBLEM!”

Tessa kept working.

The twenty-seventh Magikarp had nothing especially distinctive beyond being small. The twenty-eighth was smaller still.

Gray stared at the measurement.

“How old is this one?”

Tessa looked over.

Gray checked the historical records on the tablet, then looked back at the fish. “It wasn’t in the original twenty-nine. At least, I don’t think it was.”

“You don’t think.”

“I have photographs from the original census.”

“Of every Magikarp?”

“Yes.”

Tessa paused.

Gray frowned. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m deciding whether that’s admirable or concerning.”

“It was a census.”

“Of course.”

They finished measuring the fish. The twenty-eighth was released.

The twenty-ninth was also small.

Then the thirtieth.

Gray stopped writing.

Tessa noticed. “What?”

“These aren’t all the same cohort.”

“No.”

“I know that now.”

“You’ve had young Magikarp in the pond before.”

“Yes, but not—”

Gray stopped.

Something simple was trying to make itself obvious, and he distrusted simple answers on principle.

Marcus had gone back toward the drainage edge to check the fencing again. He looked over his shoulder when Gray fell silent.

“What?”

Gray looked down at the measurement sheet.

Then toward the pond.

Then toward Tessa.

“How small were the two unexplained ones last time?”

Tessa leaned over the forms. “We didn’t know which two they were.”

“That is not what I asked.”

She scanned the older entries. “The smallest fish were still within normal adult range.”

Gray frowned.

They continued.

Thirty.

Thirty-one.

Thirty-two.

Thirty-three.

The last two were not dramatically tiny. They were simply younger-looking than the oldest members of the pond and close enough in size to several others that a casual visual count would not have separated them reliably.

Tessa dried her hands on a towel and looked over the final identification sheet.

“So. Thirty-three.”

Gray stared at the list.

Marcus came back from the drainage channel carrying mud on one knee and irritation in his posture. “Overflow grate is intact. No gaps large enough for a Magikarp. The lower drainage line is screened. There’s no evidence anything came through from outside.”

Gray looked up. “You checked the seasonal channel?”

“Yes.”

“Recent water marks?”

“Yes.”

“Anything could have bypassed the screen during the high-water period?”

“Not unless the Magikarp learned to disassemble bolts.”

Gray glanced toward Seventeen.

Marcus followed his gaze. “No.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were thinking it.”

Gray looked back at the pond.

Thirty-three.

The number had been treated as if it represented thirty-three separate arrivals into a controlled system. That assumption had quietly governed every discussion from the beginning.

Gray felt vaguely annoyed with himself.

“Tessa.”

She was already looking at him.

“How often do you survey the nesting vegetation?”

“Weekly.”

“Anything unusual?”

She thought about it.

Then her expression changed.

Marcus looked between them. “What?”

Tessa set the towel down. “There were eggs.”

Gray stared at her.

“When?”

“A while ago. Not recently. Small cluster in the reed bed on the north side. We logged them.”

Gray continued staring.

“You logged eggs.”

“Yes.”

“And nobody mentioned this during the thirty-one-to-thirty-three investigation.”

“You never asked about eggs.”

Gray opened his mouth.

Closed it.

Elias, who had been quietly entering the last photographs into the database, looked up from the laptop. “In fairness, we did not know what laid them.”

Gray turned toward him. “There were eggs in the Magikarp pond.”

“There are multiple species using the pond.”

“Magikarp are one of them.”

“So are Gyarados.”

“That is not improving the situation.”

Tessa was trying not to smile.

Gray pointed at her. “You knew.”

“I knew there had been eggs. I did not know they were Magikarp eggs.”

“Did they hatch?”

“We never found shells.”

“That is not the same thing.”

“No.”

Gray stared across the pond again.

Somewhere near the reed bed, several Magikarp surfaced together and immediately disappeared when one of the Gyarados shifted below them.

Marcus looked at Gray.

Gray looked at Marcus.

Marcus said, “You’re telling me we spent two days checking drainage infrastructure because the fish had babies.”

“We do not know that.”

Tessa folded her arms. “Gray.”

“We have circumstantial evidence.”

“There were eggs.”

“We did not observe fertilization.”

“There were eggs in a pond full of Magikarp.”

“And Gyarados.”

Marcus rubbed both hands over his face. “Please don’t make this difficult.”

“I am not making it difficult. Pokémon reproduction is famously poorly documented in several respects.”

Tessa’s expression was now openly amused. “You mean nobody knows where the eggs come from.”

“That is not what I said.”

“It is approximately what you said.”

Gray looked toward Elias for support.

Elias had become very interested in the laptop.

Traitor.

Gray walked toward the north side of the pond, where reeds grew thickest along a shallow shelf. The vegetation had been deliberately left dense because several smaller Pokémon used it for shelter, and because Gray preferred ponds that looked like ecosystems rather than decorative water features.

He crouched carefully at the edge.

There was nothing there now except mud, reed stems, and small ripples moving between them.

Tessa came to stand nearby.

“The eggs were about here.”

“How many?”

“Six that we could see.”

Gray looked up. “Six.”

“Not all eggs hatch.”

“I know how eggs work.”

“That is debatable.”

Gray ignored her.

Six eggs. Two additional Magikarp.

It was embarrassingly plausible.

Worse, it was probably correct.

He had spent days thinking about drainage routes, undocumented intake, accidental migration, clerical mistakes, and every possible external explanation because the pond population had changed without a recorded addition.

At no point had he seriously considered that the population might have increased itself.

Marcus stopped beside them. “So what’s the official conclusion?”

Gray remained crouched for another few seconds, looking into the reeds.

“Probable in-pond hatching.”

Marcus nodded.

Tessa added, “From eggs.”

Gray stood. “Yes, Tessa. From eggs.”

“Just making sure.”

“We still don’t know who laid them.”

Tessa looked at the pond.

Gray followed her gaze.

Thirty-three Magikarp moved through the water, indistinguishable at this distance except for Seventeen, who had begun attacking a floating leaf for reasons known only to himself.

Tessa said, “I don’t think they’re going to tell us.”

Gray sighed.

“No.”

They gathered the equipment in the afternoon.

The census itself remained useful. Gray now had reliable identification photographs, updated health measurements, and a better record of individual variation across the population. Marcus had confirmed the drainage infrastructure was secure. Tessa had documented several minor fin injuries that needed watching, and Elias had already begun organizing the data into something less embarrassing than Gray’s handwritten field notes.

The only part that had not justified the effort was the mystery.

Gray stood beside the table while Tessa stacked the laminated forms.

“So we agree the count is thirty-three.”

“Yes.”

“And the two extras are most likely juveniles that hatched here.”

“Yes.”

“And nobody noticed because nobody knows exactly when the eggs hatched.”

“Correct.”

Gray considered this.

“That is irritating.”

Tessa smiled. “Why?”

“Because it’s obvious.”

“Most things are after you know the answer.”

“That is one of those statements people use to feel better about missing something.”

“It seems to be working.”

Gray looked toward the pond once more.

The water had settled. One of the Gyarados moved lazily beneath the surface. Several Magikarp clustered near the feeding platform, already anticipating the afternoon meal.

There had been twenty-nine.

Then thirty-one.

Now thirty-three.

Maybe the first unexplained additions had arrived the same way.

Gray frowned at that possibility.

Tessa noticed. “Do not start another investigation.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I was thinking.”

“That is usually how it starts.”

Gray picked up the clipboard containing the completed census. “I’m going inside.”

“Good.”

He took three steps.

A splash came from behind him.

Gray turned.

Number Seventeen had launched himself halfway out of the water, struck the end of the feeding scoop Marcus had left resting on the bank, and fallen back into the pond with enough force to send water across the equipment table.

Marcus stared at the wet forms.

Gray looked at Seventeen.

Seventeen surfaced again, mouth opening and closing placidly as though nothing had happened.

Gray glanced down at the clipboard in his hands.

“At least we know which one you are.”

Tessa laughed behind him.

Gray went back to the lab before anything else reproduced.