Then a big splash and all the usual sensations come back. Ok, alright then, time to just move around again. White, grey, azure, blue, deep blue, black, bite to pieces, jaw down, mate. Then when the energies are back: try again. Speed and ferocity.
The great white shark is of course an absolutely aquatic animal. What else could it be, at that point in evolution? It is feared by most other beings because seeing it always makes them feel, relatively imagining, as potential food, including the pain that is implied in becoming food. And then at last the disturbed dream image of being shat out again into the vastness of whichever Ocean that will be. “To become Great White Shark Feed” or “Che serra, serra”. Which is a bit silly because GWS are not always hungry, far from it. They are predators, granted, but not nearly as predacious as human beings, not even one divided by a considerable magnitude of ten. And then when they do, these biggest sharks will eat too much and subsequently have to hurl, which, who likes hurling?
But this particular shark is wildly ambitious. Think raving, hedonist immortal stuck in shark bod. What it wants for reasons only known to itself [and you-know-who] is to transcend the limits of its own species. To be precise, this GWS is unaware that it belongs to one species and that this implies limitations on its pro-creational habits, zootope, positioning within the oceanic food rhizome, numbers of razor-sharp teeth, epidermal aquadynamics, etc. Sharks are ignorant like that. It simply has the keen and evident wish to leave behind the brine and take to the space above it. Gills? Not a clue.
Which, for most other animals hearing this, sounds laughable. But hidden in that laugh is the fear of just how unbelievably frightening the prospect of a flying great white shark would be. The unnecessary fear of the shark as a heinous predator is salt-water bound, specific to rather restricted coastal regions and thus usually must not detain terrestrial beings. However, the amphibious flying white shark would, to a certain undeniable degree, represent a new level of “threat”, being now able to access almost any part of the globe, depending on its hunting behavioral pattern. The flying White Shark would strike fear into the heart of assorted other animals, especially such as might be able to be aware of the threat, worry about it and make big hullaballoo.
So what this particular white shark does, the behavioral tic is known as “breaching”. Carcharodon carcharias accelerates up to maximum velocity towards the surface then launches through it up into the air. Given its great mass it never really goes all that far, at most barely clearing its entire body. Compared to a human high jumper it’s pretty lousy and compared to a jumping louse it’s not even worth mentioning. Though the feat per se is spectacular to behold. Allegedly there was an incident where a big white one went after a US Navy helicopter but the photographic evidence looks wildly photoshoped. At any rate, white sharks don’t breach very often; it’s an occasional thing and not as evidently fun-directed as the behavior of, say, dolphins. Who themselves do not get along with sharks, of any stripe, entirely well.
But despite the failure to make headway, despite what everyday aquatics all its other comrades pursue, the shark in question keeps doing breaches, fin-stroke for fin-stroke, hour after hour with what looks like an un-nictitated eye to infinity. Hundreds of leaps a day, adding to itself this attribute: persistence. Accordingly it is also hunting much more often and acquires a deserved reputation for being feared, simply to make up for the immense caloric output that all this 2’247-kilos-predator-out-of-the-water-leaping-business consumes.
The area it does this in is an extremely remote corner of the Atlantic, nevertheless there happens to be a young marine biologist who takes note of the aberrant GWS, his Atlantic antics. He is actually supposed to do graduate research on planktozoa in a small coastal laboratory, doing trips to sea only two or three times a week to collect samples from alien abysses. Technically the expression is benthic [from benthos], which you are certainly quite aware of. Exciting stuff, the filtering of outlandish deep-sea life, in his marine biologically fine-tuned mind, super-charged with considerable pharmacology knowledge that makes him see, down the sprawling, laboratory-studded hallways of dreaming, in lab after lab slumbering solutions to humankind’s continuing conflict with virus-sized adversaries. In an ideal world nothing, not even a great white shark with goddamn wings, could stop this risen young thing from becoming a Noble Prize winner.
 Generationally delimited. Like anyone/-thing it finds no solace in the expectation that a future generation of its own kind might or might not be capable of the feat in question. Or anything else for that matter.