THE STRANGEST ROOM I’ve ever been in was in the belly of a faded roll-on/roll-off car ferry called the Yaku II, which plows a daily 160-mile circuit between Kagoshima, Japan, and the rainforest island of Yakushima. A few hours into the voyage, having exhausted such diversions as the gift shop, the swarms of flying fish, and the video slot parlor, I noticed on the ship’s egress plan something denoted as the “Turtle Room,” tucked away at the farthest end of the lowest deck. It turned out to be a square, windowless chamber the size of a small living room, with vaporwave carpeting and drop ceilings. On a raised dais in its center was a two-hundred-gallon fish tank containing two small sea turtles, each about the size of a big rabbit, and some pea gravel. The turtles, which had human eyes, flapped around in circles, bumping into the glass like trapped bumblebees.
Other than the tank and a few storage lockers, the Turtle Room was empty of furniture. The walls were decorated sparsely with laminated posters, providing information on the turtles’ provenance, biology, habits…
