Reeftopia

“Māramaia Raukawa, right?” said the woman, extending her arms toward me. “Thank you so much for accepting the invitation. I hope you had a pleasant sail.”

“The trickster blessed this voyage with smooth sailing on Amiri. Thank you for the invitation, it’s an honor to be here.”

“Welcome to the Coralarium. This floating platform off the coast of Jigurru was specially designed for the task ahead, timed to coincide with one of the most magnificent natural events in our ocean: the annual coral spawning,” explained the chatty woman.

“Last night was a full moon, and the water temperature is now just right. We can expect magic both below and above the surface in the coming days, if you know what I mean,” she added, a cheeky smile flashing across her face.

“Please follow the others who are gathering for refreshments after their journey. I still have a few more delegates to welcome before we begin.”

Approaching the bubble-like platform, my bones silently complained. I no longer had the energy or vitality I once did, but I didn’t mind. I welcomed the feeling of simply being here…present at a momentous occasion that had been set in motion ages ago, back when I was still a tempestuous youth fighting for the Universal Happiness Index. This was the next step… 

“It’s good to see someone else who looks as nervous as I feel,” said a young man. “Co-creating a global constitution? Could it get any harder?” He laughed nervously.

“At least the views aren’t too bad,” I replied, pointing to the vibrant reef below.

“Indeed, it is exquisite! I’m Sango, the representative from Deboyne Islands. We’re not far from here, actually. I usually don’t brag, but I dare say our people are sustained by one of the healthiest lagoons around.”

The excitement above the platform mirrored the buzzing activity in the reef. I approached the edge to better appreciate the coral reef, unconsciously attempting to ease the thoughts that roamed my mind like a triggerfish searching for food in the crevices of the reef.

“Welcome!” a familiar voice interrupted. 

“You have come together from all over the world. No distinctions of religion or ethnicity, no arbitrary boundaries. Youth and elders alike. Here, everyone represents their communities and the ecosystems that sustain them,” said the same woman who had welcomed me moments ago.

“Your presence here means you have accepted the responsibility of creating something that, hopefully, will resonate for generations to come. You are aware of the magnitude of the challenge ahead, but you haven’t been briefed on instructions, procedures, or protocols,” she said, pausing briefly.

“Delegates, I have news for you…there are none,” she added with a smile.

“From this point on, the co-creation of an inclusive, globally-reaching constitution is in your hands. May your creativity, your balance, and the inspiration drawn from the beauty of the reef surrounding you, guide you forward.”

Before anyone could dare to speak or raise their hands, the woman quickly slipped out of the platform, leaving behind only a medium-sized blue sphere. On its equator, in elegant letters, were the words ‘Reeftopia’.

The silence was deafening. No one really knew what to do next. I caught Sango’s gaze—this time, it wasn’t nervousness in his eyes, but complete disorientation.

Suddenly, the structure wobbled. Everything felt unstable.

“I guess we should try to open the sphere,” said a voice from the far side of the dome, dressed in the distinctive ceremonial robes of the Daramaki people.

As a small group from the opposite side of the platform walked toward the mysterious sphere, the entire structure suddenly swayed. The floor beneath our feet seemed to sink, and several people on the far side stumbled forward, nearly falling.

“Please stay still,” I said loudly, realizing that whoever had designed the Coralarium had a surprise in store for us.

“I think that to move around, we need to coordinate ourselves. This isn’t meant to be just another convention…this will be an interconnected dance, where every action matters.”

“The perfect metaphor,” mumbled Sango.

At first, we were clumsy. The platform bounced back and forth so often that it felt as though we might never stabilize, let alone co-create a global constitution.

But eventually, we learned. We figured out that mirroring behaviour and effective communication, no matter our languages, were key. We began moving in sync, staying fully present to anticipate the next move. Bit by bit, by compensating for the center of gravity, we managed to find balance. 

Yet, it didn’t take long for disagreements and frustration to creep in, threatening to unravel the delicate balance we had worked so hard to build.

I should’ve seen it coming.  With such a diverse group, how could we ever hope to reach a consensus? As had happened so many times before, the Universal Happiness Index became the flashpoint.

“Measure happiness? Impossible!”

Voices clashed. Delegates from regions grounded in ancestral wisdom and holistic worldviews questioned the very premise.

“You cannot quantify the spirit,” one declared.

“If we can’t measure it, how can we improve it?” another countered.

The room simmered with tension. Worldviews colliding, centuries of cultural divergence compressed into a single debate.

And just when it felt like the divide might fracture us beyond repair, it happened…As if the ocean floor had become a cosmic canvas, billions of gametes erupted in synchronized motion, swirling upward in a luminous dance, like galaxies being born beneath our feet.

The raw power of nature’s display humbled every delegate. And just like that, as if touched by some deep, oceanic spell, the impossible began to give way to the imaginable. Like a shoal of green-blue damselfish, we gradually became one. Confusion gave way to joy.

Surprisingly, we needed much less time than we had imagined. As if the urgency of what we had been tasked to do had softened our edges, we functioned as a true unit. We were representing our people - Reefoir, Deboyne Islands, Daramak, and so many others - but above all, we were stewards of our shared ocean. Such a simple realization made all the difference.

Just as the annual spawning came to an end, we opened the sphere and slipped inside a single-page document. 

The Global Constitution of Reeftopia didn’t need more than that.

Credits: 

The text of this story ‘Reeftopia’ is the copyright of Ignacio Gianelli, Laura Pereira, Andrew Merrie, and Kim Yip Tong. The artwork and associated imagery are the copyright of Kim Yip Tong.