Cuttlefish in Its Own Ink

"Do you think that dam will work, son?"

On the boat rising and falling with the waves, Alessandro's father Fernando looked toward the Moses Project inlet under construction in the distance.

"I don't know. The scientists say it will." Alessandro narrowed his eyes and recited the answer as if from a textbook.

"The floods are coming more and more often." Fernando said. "Do you see that tree?"

Alessandro looked in that direction. He could see the crown of a dead tree on the small island, with a cattle egret resting on one of its branches.

"When I was your age, my father brought me here too. Back then, it was still lush and full of leaves." Fernando said. "Now the seawater has rotted its roots away. The sea level has risen since twenty years ago."

"So what?" Alessandro asked.

"One scholar said that Moses's hydrological data came from the eighties. Under the original plan, the dam would be raised no more than twenty times a year. As the sea level rises further, it will be raised thirty-five times a year, and the lagoon will be closed for more than 180 days. By then, Moses will become a permanent barrier between Venice and the Adriatic Sea. Rampant algae will suffocate the fish and shellfish. We'll have no fish to catch, and those migratory birds won't come either because there'll be no food."

"I thought flamingos ate algae," Alessandro said. "That's what the books say."

Fernando tossed him a bottle of mineral water.

"You stupid boy, we'll end up like cuttlefish soaking in our own ink."

"Why won't you let me go to university?" Alessandro asked. "If I go to university, I'll become smarter."

"Do you know how much university graduates earn these days? You can pole a boat like me. Not