For a long time, there was just pain and the darkness of the deep sea, powerful and potent and vast. Compressed, suspended there in the void, the constant throbbing is all he knows. And is its ever so dark here, but it is the existence he's been granted.

Shades of grey follow, and the shadows don't feel so dark anymore. He can't identify the moment the shift occurred; it's been happening all along with blackness below and light above. Now that he can see the juxtaposition, he understands what up feels like.

Amidst the grey, there's a flutter of something he feels he's seen before but can't quite place. The memory comes to him with the contact of flannel at his fingertips, the smell of cinnamon, the taste of apples, and he remembers the flutter is called Red. Blue is next, and with it more ghost sensations that tell a story of a time before he was here, drifting through the deep.

Indistinct shapes solidify with the rest of the world's palette. More words, more knowledge from before this existence. Schools of fish encircle him.

For a time, he explores the coral reefs off the coast of Panama. He knows it as Panama because he recognizes a familiar round shape, reddish-brown in color, a species which only grows there – Siderastrea glynni of the kingdom Animalia. It's easy to forget sometimes that coral is an animal, as they do not make their own food the way plants do, aquatic or otherwise. Their class name, Anthozoa, comes from Greek and means "flower animal." The siderastrea sp. is a type of hard coral though - Scleractinia if you want to get technical, which he does because marine life is just the coolest thing.

Animalia Cnidaria Anthozoa Scleractinia Siderastreidae Siderastra glynni. How complicated to have that many names to remember. His Glynni friend must have had a hard time in class remembering all those names. But then again, Glynni and the polyps that make them up, was probably more concerned with their reef building than remembering their own identity. Plus no hands, so lucky Glynni friend didn't need to sign their own name.

He remembered fingertips, and so he remembers hands and that he has them, and that he can sign his name.

Animalia
Chordata
Mammalia
Primates
Hominidae
Homo Sapiens
Tracius Gordonius

"I am Gordon Tracy." The words don't come when he tries to speak, but he can feel them vibrate through his limbs, and the movement sends ripples through the reef in introduction. So all the fish and coral now know that is his name. He tells Glynni that, a few years ago, the maritime sector of Tracy Industries had matched his donation to the preservation of the endangered animal. He thanks them for the memory that gave him an identity down here in the sea.

It would be nice if he knew where the rest of the Tracii were. It's only been him down here so far, and there must be others.

Of slight concern is the fact that he has been underwater for so long now, and the distinction of homo sapiens means he definitely shouldn't be able to breathe underwater. The scientific community is going to feel so silly when they find out aquatic respiration is easier than it looks. He can't wait to tell John.

Ah, right, Tracius Johnius. He remembers one. John is the knower of things. A calm voice: it's okay, kiddo. Trig isn't so hard, you'll see. Let me help.

Virgil is next with the memory of flannel clinking into place. Virgil, he recalls, would have a name for each nuance of red. Now that the constricting pressure of the abyss has lessened, he realizes it feels less like a weight and more like a hug here in the reef. And that too, he realizes, is a memory of Virgil.

That's three Tracii. There's more, but they won't be here.

Weightless, the tether pulls him up, up.