F L A U N T
Like Emily Dickinson or the asteroid that shit on the dinosaurs, famed Tiktaalik became a world-class sensation well beyond her lived year. Tiktaalik Roseae died just half a billion years ago after a short, clandestine life flopping about untapped land. However, nothing about her time on Pangea appears to be a flop at all.
Born an Osteichthyes member of the Sarcopterygii classification, Tiktaalik came from a small family of 684 siblings. She spent most of her youth avoiding dominant predators, partaking in cheeky banter about the coral with classmates, and eating small krill whenever they came to pass. At eight months old, the urge to leave the depths of her township became a necessity when forelimbs grew alongside her tail fin.
She is survived by the entire human race, other, more well-adjusted mammals, amphibians, and the like. She is often championed by the scientific community and predominantly detested by Gen Z-ers who dress in used carpenter’s workwear to Scandinavian-designed coffee shops and host podcasts about cinema and stock brokerage instead of just being tolerable.
She is revered by her friends and family as being a lovely young woman. It would seem that had she known her curiosity would lead to the Butterfly Effect of all human and planetary suffering as we know it, she would’ve probably stayed under the sea and watched her siblings slowly get killed off by larger prey (she was community-oriented in that way). Today, however, instead of persecuting Tiktaalik’s choice to evolve and how it may have doomed us for an eternity, I would like to propose a different narrative.
As we propel further into space, acclimating to the great big ball of fire that will make us all carcinogens, the demise of all life forms would have come irregardless of Tiktaalik, microplastics, or that one estranged relative that keeps oversharing on their close friends story. I will be the first to admit, the human experience can be uncouth at times. It can be full of random probability and inexplicable connection. That obscurity, while a negative on occasion, can also look like: breaking bread with a forgotten friend, a cigarette on a rainy evening walking San Francisco’s Outer Richmond, stumbling your way through a foreign language abroad, marveling at a piece of art, or holding a loved one after a great loss or a terrific triumph.
Regardless of your opinion on the matter, Tiktaalik writhed in a way every single fish before her never had the ability to. Her well-mannered digits and one intrusive act of self-indulgence paved the way for a species to become anew. From there, amidst wildly changing climates and ferocious wildlife, the evolutionary cycle persevered. It is due to that singular notion, the sheer concept that forged in her scaly, poised mind telling her that she must, that we get the luxury of commiserating, contemplating, and growing.
We remember Tiktaalik today, not as the scapegoat for quick online laughs, but as the femme fatale who terraformed our future so we could all sit squarely on our ass and doom scroll with a little treat.
Photographed by Christiaan van Heijst
Written by Klayton Ketelle
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