Fish play or work with seemingly manipulated forms, changing a cube to a pyramid. Live near the ocean, river, lake, or body of water, surviving in the air equally as in the water—a fish’s head, body, tail, arms, hands, fingers, and legs. Individuals have unique color patterns across their bodies. They speak with human voices. But talk among themselves in an incomprehensible language never translated by humans. Humans who tried to gain their language were rarely unsuccessful, only hand signs. Soon, however, they’ll find a way to talk directly. The fish called themselves Iriii or Iri, the closest humans to pronouncing their real names. When they appear on land in three dimensions oval container, it floats, hovers, and travel; where ever the Iri wish it to be, that’s where it turns up. During the night, it’s a wonder to peer down from a high vantage point at the lights of their cities under the waves. Some structures move or snake across the sea floor; their cities are living entities. Some of the sea buildings are living animals, resembling jellyfish traveling throughout the seas. I created sea animals as shelter, or like the surface, people constructed out of glass, a material not corrosive in salt water. Rarely do the Iri people interact with humans. They don’t bother with the life forms on the land. Beyond the touch of the land, they erect inhabited living structures towering over the ocean’s surface. It’s a tower of seaweed sprouting, sea animals able to prosper in the air, and other life forms from the coral and steel surface.
The Iri concentrates on life-form architectural development and novel ways of creating new and exotic structures that dazzle the eyes and imagination. Translucent that pulsated with light fluctuations like jellyfish transports Iri people from one habitable system to the next, like traffic traveling along a highway. Thousands of auras shining jellyfish pervade the nightly sea to guide those swimming the city so they are led safely to their destinations. Like gardens on the surface, there are areas reserved for sea growth and stationary animals like sponges and hydra, to name a few. Then there are the gleaming causeways of marble-like sheen displaying decorative motifs that light up at twilight. Observing from a distance, the Iri cities resemble amusement parks; everything moves. A few towns constantly migrate from one part of the ocean to another.
There is no such thing as an Iri government; there’s a thing like a central brain. It appears like a colossal jellyfish communicating with the ocean; it’s the core of wisdom. The elder Iri dispenses the rules telepathically communicated by the sea itself. Each city section comprises five families, and an elder leads those five sections. Houses were mainly bubble-shaped and encrusted with animal growth; the interiors were the same as other areas, clean of growth. There are no lamps; light emanates from the walls without heat. Few cities exist in more profound levels of the oceans; these cities produce their light from the materials the structures are made of. There is very little need for streets as people glide through the water; what streets are there to create patrons between buildings? When it’s dark, the Iri themselves light up; there’s an inner light inside their bodies or on the skin’s surface.
The Iri built sea-going vehicles to propel them far distances. These were small vehicles with propellers or a sphere of energy force that discharged water at high velocities. It was controlled using a steering device. The cars are not generally dependent on the tube connecting buildings; places were the primary fast transportation mode.
The Iri used telepathic books; paper books were useless; if there was a type of physical book, it was in the form of bubbles that contained writing. Paper was never used; it wouldn’t survive in water. Whatever Iri endeavored in made them shine in technology, arts, and sciences achievements.
