In Which I Interview a Whale
As a newcomer to Steemit, much of the intricacies and complexities of the platform still remain somewhat of a mystery to me: Who gives us the money? How does this Chainblock operate? Who was the #1 white rapper in Canada in the 90s? What, exactly, is BitCheese?
One thing that I have learned early and learned well, however, is that Steemit would be nothing without one particular segment of the community: Whales. You see, while the vast majority of the Steemit community consists of your everyday anarchists, "cryptocurrency" enthusiasts, and marginally entertaining comedy writers, there exists a small, arguably secretive group of whales operating behind the scenes. It is their upvotes, their comments, and their overall support for the Steemit operation that enables those others to spread their content. The next thing you read will be these following two sentences, but bolded for emphasis, and separated from the main body of the paragraph. It will also be in quotes.
"The next thing you read will be these following two sentences, but bolded for emphasis, and separated from the main body of the paragraph. It will also be in quotes."
But who are these whales? How are they influencing the Steemit community? To find out, I immediately began researching. I utilized the most powerful tools available to me, and after hours and hours of scouring through vast volumes, I had transformed my staggering ignorance of the subject into a deep and transformative intimacy. I had to know more, though. I had to meet a whale.
Meeting the whale
My first step was to travel to where I would find one of these whales. I purchased two first class airline tickets, from my home in Copenhagen to the small, quaint seaside resort town of Bar Harbor, Maine. Throwing one of the tickets in the trash, I boarded my flight, and spent an uneventful 17 hours high in the sky - a far cry from where I would soon find myself once I arrived at my destination.
Landing in Bar Harbor, I was immediately greeted by the two men who would serve as my local guides. Ompadiah Dompowitz, 33, and Geddy "Lee" Kearns, 31, are both residents of the rural "Downeast" island community, and both men have lived their lives in admiration and abiding duty to the sea that brings them such bounty. Ompadiah, the larger of the two, immediately embraced me in an extended, vigorous hug, wherein he wrapped his leg around mine to connect that much more closely with me. Geddy followed suit, guffawing loudly, muttering a drawling platitude of which only the word "fuck" could be identified as language as we know it. They led me to their truck, and we soon found ourselves tucked into a hotel room bed. As they wrapped their arms and legs around me, I suddenly found myself envisioning the following day, focused solely upon my much anticipated interview with the whale.
That next morning, Geddy was the first to awaken, and at 4 AM he seemed as live and chipper - if not particularly bright - as he had been the previous night, while I struggled to rise, as did Ompadiah, whose state of inebriation we later discovered had led to a leakage of stool on the hotel sheets - an unwelcome expense fortunately covered by my publisher.
The sun had barely risen, but soon the three of us had boarded Geddy's brother's lobster fishing boat, christened "Pussypoundah", which I assume is a vulgar local colloquialism of some sort. I zipped my Ikea windbreaker high and tight, and stood defiantly against the bracing wind that blew back against us as we sailed deeper and deeper into open ocean.
Hours passed, and while Ompadiah and Geddy slurped their way through a 30-can box of Milwaukee's Best Ice, I retained a constant sense of sober vigilance. I was here with a purpose, and I could not let the draw of low-cost, high-gravity spirits pry me away from that which I had ventured so far to do. The time crawled by, though, and by mid-morning, the highest spirits were those few drops still remaining in the empty trail of cans left behind us floating on the surface of the sea.
Perhaps it was that wafting aroma of poor quality hops and stale malts that caused it to happen, but in that moment I was too awestruck to question - there, off of the starboard side only a mere 20 yards away, a midnight blue object crested out from beneath the surface. Immediately, I pointed instructively, and a remarkably well-composed - and agile for his size- Ompadiah took the helm. The engines purred to life, only barely cranking the propeller as to not frighten the beast as we approached.
"I was here with a purpose, and I could not let the draw of low-cost, high-gravity spirits pry me away from that which I had ventured so far to do."
Again, the creature I had travelled so far to interview broke the water's surface. This time, it was not alone. Two whales! My heart skipped a beat, and I gasped back hard against the frigid ocean air. We were but 5 meters away from two whales. Finally, my questions would be answered. Awkwardly struggling to maintain my balance on the slick, wet deck of the boat, I climbed onto the bow to get closer. I withdrew my recorder and began with the words I had been desiring to speak for days.
And then, as mysteriously as he had arrived, my majestic friend disappeared once again beneath the waves. While Geddy vomited over the side of the craft, I could only stare in awestruck wonder at the rippling, bubbly spot on the water where the whale had once been.
Now, I am happy to have shared my experience with you. I know that you, too, will have come away from this interview with the same degree of enlightenment that was bestowed upon me in that precious minute and a half. On my flight back home to Copenhagen, somewhere high above the Atlantic, I dreamed that I could hear our whale friend calling out to me. "Upvote Seanobi's content," he sang through the distance of time and aether. I know not what he meant, but could such timeless wisdom go unheeded? I leave that to you, dear reader, to decide for yourself.