SL002-130-20

SUBJ: Hartwicke, Gladys

SOURCE: WS

DATE: REDACTED

Gladys Hartwicke knew when to hold her tongue. After several weeks of being questioned—­more like interrogated—­by a series of state psychiatrists, she had been declared mentally fit and hadn’t been bothered since. Despite what she told the doctors, Gladys knew the truth and she also knew to keep it secret. She had seen a gryphon in Death Valley. It had saved her from certain death.

And that boy on the bus had been talking with it. Of all this she was certain. There was also the visit from that strange doctor at the hospital, who asked a number of questions and then wanted her to guess the card he was holding and point to the cup that had a quarter in it. She did surprisingly well on those tests at the time and started fancying herself a psychic.

Unfortunately, when she attempted to demonstrate these abilities to her friends on bingo night, she only wound up looking foolish.

Nowadays, if asked about the gryphon, the boy, or the doctor, Gladys would laugh it away and attribute it all to a potent blend of exhaustion, dehydration, and the thrill of being in Death Valley. But that didn’t mean she had forgotten what had happened. So it was particularly ironic that Gladys was at Pier 39 in San Francisco when another mythical creature chose to make an appearance.

It was a typical spring morning when Gladys left her apartment in the North Beach area of San Francisco and set out on her daily walk. She loved these walks, since they afforded her the opportunity to observe people and eavesdrop on the world around her. This helped satisfy her inherent curiosity, or, as some of her close friends and relatives dubbed it, nosiness. Gladys was the kind of person who loved to say hello to strangers she encountered on her excursions, ask them about their day, and find out where they were from. The latter would almost certainly spark a story from Gladys about how she shared a connection to their hometown. She called this little game Three Degrees of Gladys Hartwicke. She would reward herself with chocolate from a local fudge shop if she succeeded in connecting herself with a stranger’s home in less than three steps, and she had yet to lose the game. Of course, the more people she met on her daily walks, the easier it became.

On this particular day, the city’s legendary fog was still hugging the coast like a moist blanket. If it didn’t dissipate by the time she reached her destination, it was unlikely she would meet any tourists. She usually timed her walks for the early afternoon so as to be sure that the area would be bustling with activity, but later that day she was scheduled to see one of her nephews, who had recently announced his engagement. Gladys was looking forward to talking with the young man about his fiancée—­she had been preparing a list of questions ever since she’d heard the news. Things like how did they meet, did they share the same love of cats or dogs, and did they both floss and brush their teeth after every meal. Gladys was a firm believer that coordinated dental hygiene was critical to a successful union.

When she stepped onto Pier 39, Gladys found that the crowd was especially thin, no doubt due to the weather. So she headed to the one place where she always went when there weren’t enough people to satisfy her social cravings. Gladys stepped around the corner of a row of stores on the western side of the pier and followed the railing to the end. It was lined with benches and coin-­operated binoculars, for those who wanted to enjoy a view of San Francisco Bay or the other popular site: the famed sea lion colony.

Over the course of many years and a great many walks, Gladys had come to know every sea lion in the colony—­ she had even given them names. She had started by naming them after U.S. presidents, but when she’d exhausted that list, she’d moved on to other famous historical figures, and then famous fictional characters. Because she was so familiar with the members of the colony, she would quickly recognize any new visitors that shimmied their way onto the square-­shaped platforms.

As Gladys approached, she saw that a few people were already standing at the railing, hoping to catch a glimpse of the sea lions and snap some photos. With their backpacks, comfortable walking shoes, cargo shorts with bulging pockets, and fancy cameras, Gladys was certain they were tourists. There was a couple who she concluded were newlyweds on their honeymoon; there were also a mom, dad, and young son speaking German. She was just about to engage the German tourists in conversation and play a round of Three Degrees, when something unusual caught her eye. The colony had a new member.

Gladys noticed that a seal had pulled itself onto one of the docks. From the time she’d spent volunteering at the ­Aquarium of the Pacific, Gladys knew based on the seal’s wide nostrils and long snout that it was a gray seal, a rare pinniped found in the North Atlantic Ocean. What was it doing here in the Pacific Ocean? she wondered. This specimen was quite large, dark silver with light-­colored blotches scattered about its body. She had never seen a seal in the sea lion colony before and wondered how the resident creatures might react. They did so in a rather peculiar way. Much to her surprise, the sea lions of Pier 39 made room for their new guest. In fact, not only did they move to accommodate their fellow pinniped, but they turned their bodies toward it and began bowing their heads up and down. It was as if they were genuflecting in the seal’s presence, like he was royalty. This was strange, Gladys thought. But then things got a whole lot stranger.

The seal began to transform. It didn’t appear to be a seal at all, but rather a human wearing an elaborate costume. The creature split apart down the middle, and a man emerged from inside. He was as naked as a jaybird. The tourists gasped in shock, parents blocked their children’s eyes, and Gladys just stared, slack-­jawed in amazement. Her desire to socialize with the tourists evaporated in an instant. There was a new traveler in town she wanted to question, and she grinned in anticipation. Today’s walk would most definitely be one to remember.