Read an excerpt from Go Yama's forthcoming "Rumi", and listen to 'Philosopher Shell' from the accompanying OST.

For our next release, we're putting out the next full-length album by Los Angeles producer and jazz guitar wizard Go Yama, a children's book & soundtrack combo called "Rumi"! We'll have plenty more to say about this really special project in the coming weeks but, as we've released the first single Philosopher Shell today, we wanted to share the accompanying chapter for you to read for free!

The glowing tail skirted right along the top of the cove, continuing to draw figure-8 patterns in the water. Rumi kept trying to figure out what kind of fish it was but could only catch glimpses: a fin, a stripe, a scale. After following the darting glow through dense patches of tall sea grass, she found herself in an ivory-white, sandy clearing. “Now, where did you go, you weird little glowing tail?” Rumi said out loud.

The piano's dreamy soundscape conjured memories of her soft bed, and she paused for a second, lost in thought. "You there! Young lass, what are you doing over there sulking? Come over and help us. We have a dreadful problem." An elegant voice startled her from her daze. Rumi turned to two-chambered nautilus shells nestled on the ocean floor, both sipping on curious bubbly beverages floating above a tiny table in between them. The shells were identical, save for their shoes, one black and one white matching perfectly with the black and white checkered board, with mysterious figures sitting atop, that lay squarely between them. A sweet scent of freshly baked sea scones filled the air.

‘“Do they even have feet?’” Rumi wondered.

The black-shoe shell coaxed the white tea bubble to his mouth and took a long drag. “Ahhhhh, I’ll never tire of the taste of Peony. Delightfully floral.”

“Dreadful! I still don’t know how you drink that stuff. Poison really. I’ll stick with my trusty English Breakfast; it hasn’t let me down… yet,” the white-shoe shell said, adjusting the impractical monocle covering his practically nonexistent eye. Rumi stared curiously at the geometric markings on their shells, patterns that seemed to repeat into infinity as they got smaller. They seemed to almost spiral and move as she examined them. It reminded her of a fake image filter in Ocean Days.

“Don’t be afraid of my delightful twit of a friend here. He’s harmless, really,” the black-shoe shell said.

“Who are you calling twit, you dreadful anemone-brained clownfish?”

Rumi chuckled and drifted toward the table. As she moved, the ocean seemed to warp around her, squashing her like a 2D video game character. And then, a back-and-forth in-game cutscene began.

Shell of Theseus

Rumi: "Are you real or… like a filter in Ocean Days?" [thinking of all the interesting OD filters]

Black-shoe Shell: "Young lass, you've stumbled upon the very question! Delightful!"

Rumi: "What?"

Black-shoe Shell: "You see, I've been wondering about that myself."

Rumi: "About the game?"

White-shoe Shell: "What in the world are you talking about? This is no game, lass. This is a grave and dreadful issue! Are we real or not?? My half-wit friend here and I have been talking about quite a dreadful problem. Let's say you took a shell… call him Theshellus, we shall! So… say you took him apart piece by piece but gradually replaced the old shell parts with new ones."

Rumi: "Ok..."

Black-shoe Shell: "Then all of the original shell pieces are used to make another shell which looks exactly like the first, with all of its delightful originals. I believe it’s quite practical, actually."

White-shoe Shell: "Practical, my foot! But, really imagine it. One of the shells… an exact replica of Theshellus with all of its original pieces, but the real Theshellus is still standing there in a brand new shining shell coat. A dreadful problem."

Black-shoe Shell: "So our delightful question, dear lass, is which one is the real shell?"

Rumi: "Ummm…" [head spinning]

White-shoe Shell: "You don't know either? Dreadful. We are doomed to never find out."

Rumi: "Sorry, I seriously have no idea what you are talking about" [scratching her head with a tentacle]

RUMBLE RUMBLE…

The table shook, knocking them out of their 2D cutscene and the shoes right off of the shells’ nonexistent feet.

RUMBLE, RUMBLE…

A more violent shake and the two shells were flung off the table, hitting spiky coral jutting out of the ground and their shells cracking into a hundred pieces.

“Help, my shell, it’s over! A dreadful nightmare,” cried a voice coming from the pile.

“Mine too, lass! I think I may be ok with this one delightful piece, but… well… no… actually… I’m completely undone. You may have to fix me.”

Rumi stared in disbelief. “Calm down, you two! I’ll… I’ll fix it.” She bent to find the biggest pieces and tried to put them together.

“NO, no, that’s not me, that’s him! You can tell because this one is dreadfully dull.”

“YOU? That’s MY delightful piece!”

Rumi sighed, looking at all the identical pieces. “We’ll you’re already in pieces! What difference does it make?”

“Careful, lass, if you mix us up, we don’t know what will happen!” The black-shoe shell warned.

“You’ll have to live with it,” Rumi retorted. Not knowing one piece from the next, she got to work, rebuilding one shell with parts from the other and vice versa. Soon, both shells looked coherent again, even though they were now made out of each other’s pieces. After some finishing touches and putting their shoes on, Rumi brushed off her tentacles. “There you go, good as new.” The two shells breathed a sigh of relief, which quickly turned to horror.

“Am I still…. me?” The black-shoe shell asked.

“Or am I… you?” The white-shoe shell gasped.

Rumi groaned. “You’re both fine. You’ve just swapped some parts, that’s all.”

“There’s still… something missing… oh wait, you’ve got my shoes! Give them back!”

“Oh dear, I knew I didn’t feel myself. Here you go.”

The two shells struggled to swap shoes and stood examining each other intently.

Finally, the black-shoe shell spoke. "You know, I do feel delightfully sturdy with your bits, old chum."

"Although your parts may be dreadfully dull, I must admit that they fit just fine. Perhaps… this isn’t so bad…" said the white-shoe shell.

They both looked over at Rumi with gratitude. “Well, I guess you DID help us solve that problem!” The black-shoe shell exclaimed.

“I mean, I didn’t really mean to, but… I’m glad it worked out.” Rumi said with a hesitant smile.

“A dreadful situation with a delightful ending!” The shells spoke in unison.

“We STILL don’t really know if we’re real though… we need to discuss this further. Come join us back at the table.”

Barbara’s Paradox

[all three sit in quiet deliberation for a minute]

Rumi: "I think I’m real, at least. So, maybe you are too?"

White-shoe Shell: "Unfortunately, just because you think, doesn't mean you are, lass. A dreadful problem, but everyone knows that."

Black-shoe Shell: "In any case, we apologize. We've forgotten introductions. How delightfully rude of us. My name is Fibonacci."

White-shoe Shell: "And mine is the dreadful Phibonachee; don’t forget it."

[Fibonacci and Phibonachee sip on their white and black tea bubbles]

Rumi: "Wait… you both look the same AND have the same name? That's confusing, don't you have like a nickname or something?"

Fibonacci: "Ah I see your concern, but it’s really not confusing at all, simply a delightful quirk. You see… mine is clearly spelt with an F."

Phibonachee: "Haven’t you taken elementary spelling, lass? And besides, it's not nearly as confusing as what's going on with our dreadful oysterly acquaintance, Ms. Barbara…"

[Rumi places a tentacle on her head, wondering how to politely excuse herself]

Rumi: "Oh, so interesting, really, but I really should be…"

[the loquacious shells continue on without as much as a pause for a breath]

Fibonacci: "She's as delightfully mysterious as the depths of the ocean itself, that Barbara."

Phibonachee: "Indeed, I was shell-shocked when I heard of it. About one of the only dreadful things I agree with this lummox on. Have you ever shucked an oyster, young lass?"

Rumi: "No… but I really…"

Fibonacci: "Barbara is the realan oyster shucker. Even as a Pacific oyster herself, she shucks other oysters to help them find their pearls."

Phibonachee: "You see, sometimes, an oyster finds their shell shut so dreadfully tight that they cannot open it themself, requiring a shucker."

Rumi: "Hmmm… I guess I’ve never thought about… oyster shucking." [Rumi had only ever considered oysters a delicious snack]

Fibonacci: "A delightful vocation, however, there is one rule she must follow: she shucks all and only those oysters who do not, can not shuck themselves."

Phibonachee: "I’m not sure I’d call it delightful, but in any case, the dreadful question clearly is: does Barbara shuck herself?"

[Phibonachee triumphantly drinks in some black smoke from his tea bubble]

Rumi: "I guess so, but wait ... if she does, then she can't, can she?"

Fibonacci: "Right you are again lass! You are a delightfully sharp one. If Barbara shucks herself, then she shouldn't, as she only shucks oysters who don't open their own shell and get their own pearl."

Phibonachee: "On the other hand, if she doesn't shuck herself, then she must shuck herself since she opens all those that don't open independently. Oh! The dreadful Barbara's paradox!"

Fibonacci: "Look, there goes our delightful friend Ms. Barbara now."

[Barbara bustles past, looking quite clammy, and all three turn their attention, taking them out of their intense dialogue]

“Ah, oysters! I’m late for another appointment,” Barbara said as she hurried over to a little counter with a stool in front. A small oyster sipping a green tea bubble sat down on the stool.

“Ready to get my pearl!” The small oyster said with a smile.

Barbara draped a tiny apron on the oyster and pulled out a stubby, dull-edged blade with a sturdy handle and started to gently pry on the edges of his shell. “Ouch!” The small oyster squeaked.

“Shucks! Another broken shell. I’m so sorry, little one. Here let me fix that up for you.” Barbara replaced the piece of the shell and continued prying.

“I’ve had shell parts replaced so many times. I’m probably a new oyster by now,” the small oyster was seemingly sad.

“Ha. You’ll always be little Theshellus to me,” Barbara said.

“Hey, Ms. Barbara, I’ve got a question that’s been bugging me… how do you get your own pearl?” The small oyster said in a small voice.

Rumi, Fibonacci, and Phibonachee exchanged glances. Perhaps the small oyster had been eavesdropping all this while.

RUMBLE RUMBLE…

The peaceful ocean waters were agitated once more, scaring the oysters. “It must be the shark!” Ms. Barbara guessed.

The oysters gave up on the shucking and went off. Rumi threw up her tentacles in disappointment. “Wait, seriously? We were just about to find out! We have to go ask.”

She rose and began swimming over, expecting to catch up with the slowly plodding oysters with ease. But as she neared the halfway point, in her estimation, they looked the exact same distance away. “Hey, what gives? Am I stuck in a rip current?”

She kept swimming faster and faster but with no luck. She turned around, and, to her surprise, she was still right next to the shells. Looking dejected, she returned to the table.

Zylo's Paradox

Fibonacci: "My dear lass, I’m afraid I have some delightfully bad news. Unfortunately, it doesn't make any sense to follow Barbara because we've done the math. It's quite far. In fact, impossibly far."

Phibonacee [under his breath]: "Plus, those selfish oysters never share their little pearls of wisdom, such dreadfully clammy creatures."

Rumi: "I really don't follow, guys. What are we talking about?"

Fibonacci: "Exactly, we should not follow her because, as I said before, it is delightfully impossible to go that far."

Phibonachee: "Really, you must go back to school and do some basic math and history, young lass. Dreadful education in schools these days. Haven't you heard of the plight of our good friend, Zylo the clownfish? Why he was stuck in quite a quandary trying to get from here to there. And it was not even a dreadfully long way at all…"

Rumi [bracing herself]: "Here we go again."

Fibonacci: "He found himself in quite the paradoxical pickle, a self-contradictory seaweed snarl, 'here to there,' my lass, is delightfully fraught with conceptual currents indeed."

Phibonachee: "Enough with the dreadful alliterative nonsense, Fibonacci, you’re confusing the cuttlefish. You see, lassie, when trying to get from here to there, Zylo reasoned that he must swim halfway first, but before that he realized he must cover half of that half and so on and so on!"

Rumi: "And so..."

Fibonacci: "Infinite halves, my dear lass! Before you ever reach Ms. Barbara, or anywhere for that matter, you would have to traverse an infinite number of halfway points. That would be like trying to count all the bubbles in the ocean. A delightfully Sisyphean task if you ask me."

[Fibonacci and Phibonachee count the tea bubbles on the table even though there were only two]

Rumi: "Well, I certainly FEEL like I can go places…"

Phibonachee: "Dreadful logic. Just because you feel something doesn't make it accurate, but go ahead and try. The world is your oyster, after all."

Fibonacci: "Delightful attitude, young lass. It’s always worth a try! We’ll be rooting for you."

Mechanical voice: “Why bother? It’s meaningless!”

[Rumi’s tentacles bristled]

Rumi: "What was that?"

Phibonachee and Fibonacci: "What was what?"

[the shells look at her with confused expressions]

Rumi: "I just thought I heard a… never mind, I’m so tired."

Rumi left the table and scanned her surroundings.

A hint of curiosity entered Rumi’s mind as if a window which had been closed shut for years had finally squeaked itself open to let a breeze in. “I’m going to prove I can go somewhere!” She yelled out to the shells.

But doubts began to creep in. “What if I can’t make it? What if I can’t ever go anywhere ever again?”

“Just keep going,” a little voice said.

Rumi spotted some nearby coral shaped like a big branching hand and began swimming towards it, hoping not to get caught in a loop again. To her relief, she made it without issue.

Fractals

Rumi: "Look! I made it all the way to this weird coral."

[Rumi points to the oddly shaped coral structure that looks like two red hands reaching out of the water, each of its branches resembling another tiny hand, wondering if she had seen it before]

Fibonacci: "Silly, my dear lass, that is not just any delightful coral; that is a whole hand coral, a manicoral."

Phibonachee: "That dreadful manicoral is a meta coral."

Rumi: "What in the world is that now?"

Fibonacci: "Delightfully elementary, my dear lass. A ‘meta coral’ is a big coral made up of smaller pieces of little coral which look like just the whole coral itself. A part which imitates the whole."

[Rumi scratches her head with a tentacle]

Phibonachee: "Think of a branching kelp tree whose branches look like the whole tree; a real manicoral is a testament to the dreadful fractals of the sea."

Rumi: "So, the tiny corals that make up the big manicoral? Are they the real coral?"

Fibonacci: "Yes, delightfully right you are. They are the real coral; the small parts of the whole coral that look like tiny fingers or digits, digicoral."

Phibonachee: "You dreadful old plonker, Fibonacci. Let us not forget that, in fact, manicoral is a meta META coral. The real, real coral is at the veritable bottom of the chain, tiny branches so small that they look like little tiny lines to us, that is to say, coraline."

Rumi [doubtful look on her face]: "Those tiny things? Those can't be real living things."

Manicoral (meta meta coral): "Excuse me, I'm the real coral with wishes of my own!"

[Everyone looking down at the coral, surprised]

Rumi: "Oh, we’re sorry, manicoral! We didn't realize that."

Manicoral: "I get this all the time… especially from all those hooligan oysters. They are all so busy shucking and rushing around, going from here to there, impatient little fellows."

Fibonacci: "Now, manicoral, you mentioned you have some delightful wishes of your own. Maybe we can help you. What is it that you wish for?"

Manicoral: "Hmm… I'm quite an anxious coral, and when I get anxious, I hear these little voices with different opinions that won't stop their incessant chattering; I can't quite figure out who I AM."

[several small branches from the meta meta coral piping up; they were the same voices collaborating to make the manicoral speak]

Rumi felt they were speaking in some kind of strange sequence of words…

Meta Coral 0: *Unintelligible grunt*

Meta Coral 1: "Thirsty!" [The branch 'eyed' the shell's bubble beverage]

Meta Coral 1: "Refreshing!" [The branch extended itself and got a sip of the tea bubble]

Meta Coral 2: "Let's corallaborate!" [The branch tried to get some tea bubbles from meta coral 1]

Meta Coral 3: "Seas the day!"

[branch hand hurriedly reaching out and accidentally popping the bubble, spreading tea-colored smoke through the water and staining the coral]

Meta Coral 5: "Every coral is always corallated!"

[color starting to spread through the rest of the coral]

Meta Coral 8: "The fragile balance, a coral symbiosis, everything alive."

[last meta coral speaking softly, as if in a haiku, and his poetic voice floating in the water while Fibonacci lamented his popped tea bubble]

Rumi [speaking up to find the eloquent branch in the mass of meta corals]: "That's quite a poetic phrase!"

Meta Coral 8 [smallest in the group]: "Thank you! As you can see, I'm the real coral, with my own wishes."

Rumi: "What's your name?"

Meta Coral 8: "I am Digicoral."

[shells looking at each other with delight; intuitions confirmed]

Rumi: "That ‘everything being alive’ business, what did you mean by that?"

Digicoral: "I'm not so sure! I can't tell where the ideas come from sometimes. I just listen. Sometimes I get confused by all the little voices, though."

Phibonachee [whispering]: "Sounds a dreadful lot like the manicoral."

Rumi: "Are the voices yours?"

Digicoral: "I don't know... sometimes I just hear small voices. Sometimes I don't know who the real ME is."

[Rumi examining digicoral's branched body]

Rumi: "You sure nothing is going on down here? Like maybe… other creatures?"

Digicoral: "Most certainly not! For I am my own creature and surely not made up of any other living thing."

Fibonacci [whispering in Rumi's ear]: "A delightful chap, indeed, but we should check to make sure."

[Rumi agrees and takes the shells’ monocles creating makeshift binoculars; seeing a kaleidoscope of thousands of mini corals which, although looking like tiny lines from her view before, clearly miniature versions of digicoral and manicoral, filled with vibrant and tiny micro coral enjoying some delicious microplankton]

Rumi: "Hey! What are you eating?"

Coral Bacteria: "Who's there?!"

Rumi: "I'm up here!"

[Rumi's voice shaking the micro coral and sounding like a low, giant rumble]

Coral Bacteria: "I can't see you, you must not be real."

Rumi: "I thought you weren't real… are you?"

Coral Bacteria: "Of course I'm real! My name is Coraline, and I live in Reef Residence Block Apt. no. 42! I have wishes of my own."

Rumi: "I'm learning that just because you can't see something doesn’t mean it's not real."

Coraline: "I gotta find my mom, I'm not supposed to talk to strangers."

Rumi: "Ok, fine… but remember what I said!"

[Rumi looking closer and seeing even smaller lines on Coraline, which made her suspect that, in fact, there may be no end to this bizarre Russian nesting doll situation; coral shaking and Rumi hearing a low rumbling sound in the distance]

RUMBLE RUMBLE RUMBLE RUMBLE…

[Rumi quickly giving the monocles back to the shells and looking around; rumbling and shaking dying down]

Fibonacci [speaking impatiently]: "Well, lass, tell us what's down there at the bottom of that delightful coral"

Rumi: "It looks like it's corals all the way down!"

Phibonachee [murmuring indistinctly]: "Dreadful, just like the turtles."

Fibonacci: "Just as I suspected, infinity in every direction. Delightful!"

Right then, through the maze of shells, coral, and confusing rhetoric, Rumi caught a glimpse of something. Suddenly, as if she had a view from a tall ocean cliff, she felt she could see the ocean landscape from many angles. Rumi realized how much of her environment she had been missing, that she knew nothing about, that she had been ignoring. She suddenly felt the presence of life all around her, in the largest and smallest of places. Her own skin started to pulse with bands of color as if the chromatophores were putting on a little dance. She felt she could somehow hear them on her skin, speaking energetically at a frequency a bit too high for her to hear, as if to prove that she, too, was a collective. Perhaps she, too, was part of an even larger lifeform.

The 2D dialogue with the shells suddenly popped back into 3D. Or more. Everything felt simultaneously small and big. Sounds boomed and echoed, and objects moved overwhelmingly fast. It felt as if the ocean itself was rushing, moving, breathing... and it frightened her.

“Whoa.” Rumi felt her world expanding faster than she could grasp.

The window in her mind continued to creek open, and the ocean’s vastness flooded in, overwhelming her. She tried to steady herself, but her thoughts raced. "How could something be endless? How many layers have I been missing? I thought I knew the ocean — my patch of seagrass, my friends. But talking shells, musical starfish?? I thought coral was just coral, but META coral? How much don’t I know??"

Her chest tightened as the unfamiliar weight of these questions pressed down on her. Rumi suddenly missed her seagrass bed. The comforts and distractions of home. And her game, which she did notice no one seemed to be playing out here.

The shells moved closer to her side, their rough but reassuring edges brushing against her. “The ocean is dreadfully mysterious, lass. But the questions are more important than the answers, you know,” Phibonachee said.

“Look up,” a tiny voice said.

Through the transparent squares of her forming tears, she spotted a quick flash in the corner of her left eye. It was the glowing tail! The flash of light passed back across her field of vision, this time exposing two more fins with it. She could see now that it was some kind of fish with striped figure-8 patterns on its scales. It flitted away out of sight into the surrounding seagrass. “Hey, guys! Have you ever seen a fish with a glowing tail?” Rumi inquired.

“No, I have not. That is delightfully curious indeed,” Fibonacci said.

“More curious than Ms. Barbara’s dreadful pearl itself!” Phibonachee echoed.

Rumi clenched her tentacles with determination. “I'm gonna find out what it is,” she said, feeling a burst of motivation.

“It sounds like a dreadful but worthy journey to follow such a creature to where they are going,” said Phibonachee.

“Wait, but I thought you said following someone somewhere would be impossible? Can I even get to the place I want to go?” Rumi asked.

“So many delightful things are possible just as long as you don't know they're impossible," said Fibonacci.

“You’re welcome to stay here with a couple of old blokes like us and consider the dreadful possibilities… or you can go and find out for yourself,” said Phibonachee.

Rumi hesitated, torn. Despite their confusing rhetoric, she had grown fond of these peculiar, philosophical shells. But her instincts were calling her towards the fish, towards the unknown. “I'll miss you both, but I must go find out for myself,” said Rumi resolutely.

“A brave lass! It’s been delightful, but before you go, take this!” Fibonacci exclaimed, nudging something toward her with great care.

It was Ms. Barbara’s meta pearl. It shone with the luster of infinite pearls and looked like it contained the starlight of a million glowing starfish. As Rumi gazed into its shimmering depths, a sense of calm washed over her, as if the pearl had taken the ocean’s complexity and distilled it into something she could carry.

“But how??” Rumi asked in awe.

“We took this dreadful thing before we knew it was impossible,” said Phibonachee with a wink.

“If you keep this light with you, you can always find your way to the impossible… forward, backward, or home.”

With that, Rumi hugged the shells and went off in the direction of the mysterious fish.