A Fiction: Part XVI

III

“What do you remember?” the hollow voice inquires.

“They were iridescent and bulbous, buoyant and warm. They carried me.”

“Jellyfish?”

“Yes… yes, they may have been.”

“Do you remember what happened to Hawthorne?”

“He never came back. I guess he got lost.”

“And Stuart… where is Stuart?”

“I set him free. Where am I? What is this place?”

“Angel’s Head, of course.”

“Where did you go? Why did you leave us?”

“It was not safe.”

“Safe? Were you attacked? Safe from what?

“Please, Mr. Cole. You’re upsetting yourself. Do try to relax.”

“RELAX? Are you fucking kidding me? I could’ve died out there! And fucking Stuart…” My head begins to throb and the room spins slowly.

“I’m going to be sick…” My stomach twists as everything once again goes black.

IV

“Good morning, Mr. Cole. How you feeling on this fine day?” Nelson is waiting for me at the top of the stairway, his right hand outstretched. I take his hand and he pulls me into an embrace. “Everyone was so worried about you. It’s good to see you up and around,” he says into my ear.

“I feel pretty good. Still a bit green around the gills so-to-speak, but as long as I keep moving, it’s OK.” We walk to the rail and look out to the rolling sea, the sun at our backs. The early morning sky is pale blue, with flecks of cloud scattered along the horizon. “How far have we gone since I was picked up?”

“You ask me, not far at all. We’ve been circling. It’s a big circle, mind you. But it’s hard not to notice the sun rise and set on the same side of the ship.” Nester laughs his hearty laugh. “They left something down there that they still want.”

“Maybe they hope to recover the Ether. I’d like to know what happened.”

“Could be, could be. There sure was a lot of excitement when you were down there. There was cheering in the control room early on. They came pouring out of the room saying you found something or other. But things got pretty somber after Mr. Hawthorne showed up.”

I nearly fall as the blood drains from my face. “HAWTHORNE IS ALIVE? HE’S HERE ON THE SHIP?”

Nelson puts an arm under mine to support me, and helps me to a bench. We sit. “Didn’t they tell you? He was found on the deck the morning after you went down. The dive team was scheduled to go down and try to hook a cable to your sub. But when Hawthorne woke up, he started screaming that we had to leave, that we were all in danger and all that nonsense. Captain made the call to go.”

My head slips into my hands as the deck spins across my eyes. I jump to the rail and vomit over the side. “I have to see him,” I say, a long line of spittle hanging from my lip. “Where is he?”

“Why, he’s gone Mr. Cole. Chopper came for him right after you were rescued. No need to worry. The captain’ll tell you the whole story. Told me to tell you he wants to see you later in the week.”

“Bring me to him now.”

A Fiction: Part XV

II

It has been 9 days since I sent Stuart off. Since then, I have occupied my time with a rigid routine that consists of hourly radio and SONAR checks, power level reviews, and regimented small meals and water consumption. This morning (there is no light this far below, but I have made a conscious effort to maintain a standard night/day schedule) I was able to restart the propeller drives, but a full force attempt in every direction yielded no positive result. I believe we have hooked ourselves onto an object embedded in the sea floor. Either this or the object Stuart brought aboard has weighed us down. I will attempt to open the cargo door and release the object, but again, I do not expect a positive result.

3 days ago I noticed a tremor in my right eye. I was not immediately concerned, as it was a standard common muscled twitch. But it has gradually worsened and I believe it may be indicative of a more serious condition. I find myself digging my forefinger into the muscle as it spasms in an effort to soothe the little beast, but it continues it’s flexing beneath the probing digit. I have considered a bit of self surgery to release the tension in the muscle and have found a blade sharp enough for the performance, but my routine does not allow for the time it would require so it will have to wait.

The enhanced view screen shimmers with hazy blue ghosts as objects pass by my window to the sea. Some are easily discernable as familiar sea creatures but others I do not recognize. My eye muscle spasms as I stare into the black abyss and observe the gaseous bodies drift past. In them I see shapes and visions – of times past and those yet to be. I see my mother’s eyes as they look into mine, so caring and concerned. She wonders when I will be home and safe. She has been dead for nearly a decade, but there she is before me – beckoning. And there are stars and swirling universes of worlds and peoples. They visit me and tell me of my insignificance. They lilt me to sleep and provide me with images of soft places and comforting patterns. I stand and move to the next station of my routine – the radio.

“This is submersible Ether in distress, is there anyone there?” This is my standard message to the outside world, and I send it hourly on all available channels. On each the response is static – always static. I move to the SONAR screen and watch four full rotations. The light green line sweeps the black globe and finds nothing. Once. Twice. Three times. Four. Nothing. I stand to move to the power panels. As I do, my eye is caught by a small dot in the upper right quadrant of the SONAR display. I quickly fall back into the chair and wait for the next rotation. There… THERE IT IS! A dot!!! It’s moving across the circle – not perfectly in my direction but getting closer. How can I signal them? What can I do? I race to the radio and switch on the first channel.

“This is submersible Ether in distress. Please respond.” I count to ten and switch to the next channel. Again. “This is submersible Ether in distress. Please, is there anybody there?” …Ten. Next. “This is the submersible Ether from Angel’s Head. Angel’s Head are you there?”

“PLEASE. IS THERE ANYONE THERE???” I look at the SONAR screen and see the dot moving yet closer. It is within two miles southeast and moving slowly north. In 10 minutes it will be at its closest point – less than one mile. LESS THAN ONE MILE!!! I race to the back and pull out the S.C.U.B.A. gear. I spread it all out and around for easy access and begin tearing off my clothes. As quickly, I start pulling on gear. I badly twist my small toe as I yank up the legging – I think it’s broken. Keep going. Both legs on now. I stand and pull the shoulders up and jam my arms through and into the gloves. I pick up the tank and heave it up onto my back nearly falling as I drill the tank dials into the base of my skull. The stars clear and I pull the cap over my head. I reach down and grab the mask, pull oxygen feed into my mouth and slip on the flippers. Without a look back I pop open the hatch and drop into the water.

I didn’t take into account the temperature – I’m freezing. Well, no time to change my mind. I start to swim to the surface. I wonder how long it’s been – more than ten minutes? What will I do when I reach the surface? Swim to the vessel? I have no flares or signaling devices. My heart is pounding in my chest. I pump with all I’ve got but the water around me is still pitch black. Something brushes my leg and I reach out – it’s the cable for the solar power unit. A life line! I run the cable through my fingers as I continue my journey upward. Every hundred feet, there is a junction of two cables and I begin to estimate my progress. I can’t make it in time! Panic is setting in. I drop the cable to pump my arms and force my way up. I begin to see light around me… is it my imagination? The light takes form and the angelic patterns from the view screen surround me and lift me higher and higher. I fear I may be losing consciousness as the visions pull me upward, their faces calming and soothing. Then suddenly all is dark and quiet. I am not moving. I float still and hang in the depth. My eyes close and my breathing slows as I hear the bell of my air supply ringing.

A Fiction: Part XIV

Chapter 3

Waiting for the sun

I

Stuart died.

When I think of people dying, I always imagine a quiet moment; their faces grow still, their eyes glaze a bit and they look upwards as though seeing the face of God. Peaceful, always peaceful. Maybe I’ve seen too many vid-dramas.

Stuart decided early on that he was going to hold on to the last. He fought death literally with all he had. First, there was the moaning. It started as a pained breath, but over the course of 16 hours it became a near-constant hum. The moaning lasted for nearly 12 hours more until Stuart drifted away into restless sleep. I had been comforting him with a torn bit of my shirt and cool water on his forehead and chest. When he drifted off to sleep, I thankfully did as well. A little over 4 hours later, Stuarts eyes shot open – wild and clear – and the howling and screaming started. His body shook in constant tension as he took deep hysterical breaths and let them go in a swirling siren of agony. He lay there on the cold steel diamond plate floor, my every attempt at comfort swatted away with rigid strength. It was clear I could offer no help, so I moved away and searched the first aid kit for something to close my ears. I cut a few small triangles from a larger gauze pad and rolled them into my ear canals, softening the horror of Stuart’s spasms. I spent the next hour activating emergency equipment and attempting to re-engage the drives. I was under the main console tracing the wiring and looking for damage when I realized… the sub was silent.

I have to admit, I considered my food situation. The sub is stocked with enough dry rations for three individuals at average consumption for one week. I estimate I can ration this for myself for up to five weeks. By then, I expect either Angel’s Head will find me or I will convince myself to suit up and swim to the surface – Stuart will not be edible after a few days – maybe a week. I decided to let him go.

Before I lowered him into the water, I wrapped Stuart in the blanket from the first aid kit and tied it tight with some thin rope I found in the back hold. The concept of God is passé in this day and age, but I feel compelled to say a few words.

“A pleasant voyage, Stuart. Your suffering is at an end, my friend.” With this, I pushed Stuart out into the sea and closed the hatch behind him.

A Fiction: Part VIII

V

The interior of the sub is bathed intermittently with deep red and pitch black. It takes me a few seconds to get my bearings and pull myself up off the floor. The sub floor is slanted towards the back and I struggle to get to the front screen – black as well. Either the screen is damaged or the outside lighting is off. Fuck. I shake my head and take a minute to fully assess the situation. I hear the whirring of fans blowing fresh air from the oxygen converters – that’s good. We at least have emergency power… we... STUART! His body rolled beneath the console on impact and is still there. I sit on the floor next to him, wrap my arms around his torso and drag him out into the main aisle. He was knocked cold – not good. I stand and shut off the emergency systems. The main power comes back up and all the equipment comes to life. Then I pull open the first aid cabinet on the wall. What do I need? A blanket, some bandages for his head, a cold pack…

“Solemn chain flower cold?” I turn and see Stuart sitting up, his hands on his knees. He looks at me curiously. “Flower cold?”

“Stuart, lay down. I don’t know what kind of injuries you have.” Stuart stares hard at me, rolls to one side and lies down. He is shivering. I cover him with the blanket and start to check him for injuries. I gasp as I check his head. The back of his skull is soft and bloody. There is fluid oozing from his ears and his eyes dart back and forth. Oh, Stuart, my friend. It’s not looking good. I need to get help. I stand and move to the instrument panels.

“Fear column lines patsy…” Stuart offers behind me without rising.

“Thanks for the advice, Stu, but I need to try the radio first.” Stuart grunts in what I think is approval. The radio lights up and I hear familiar static. “Angel’s Head, this is Ether. We have an emergency. Please respond…” Static. “Angel’s Head, this is Ether. Please respond. We have an emergency.” Nothing.

I walk over to the SONAR display and watch a full rotation, then another. “Stuart, what am I doing wrong here? I don’t see anything.” Stuart pulls himself up and crawls over to the display before I notice. “Jesus, Stuart. Lie back down! You’re in no shape to…” Stuart puts his hand to my mouth and leans into the display.

“Cage my pollen stone…” he says quietly. He closes his eyes and moves back to the floor.

He may not have said the right words, but Stuart was clear as day: Angel’s Head is gone. We are alone.

A Fiction: Part XII

III

Once I got the hang of it, piloting the sub was fairly easy. You certainly had to predict your stops and turns, but the little sub was more reactive than I expected. Hawthorne was pleased with my progress and even let me pilot the sub to the surface once Stuart was complete with his equipment diagnostics and calibrations. He took over as we approached Angel’s Head, presumably in fear that I would crash into the side, but once we were out and standing on deck, he patted me on the back and said, “Gentlemen, meet your new sub pilot. I’m retired.”

Now, back in my room and thinking back on the day, I smile to myself and lean back in satisfaction on the bed. I wonder what all the secrecy is about. Lost treasure I suppose – afraid that the crew will mutiny to get their hands on the booty. Well, being on the front lines, I guess I’ll know before anyone else what’s going on. A submersible pilot – who would’ve guessed? Angel’s Head is starting to feel like a grand adventure. We’re nearly a month out and I don’t want the trip to end.

Having been turned away from a search for Hawthorne, I make an attempt for the latest headlines.

FORBIDDEN INFORMATION – NOT ALLOWED

What the fuck? I search for entertainment news.

FORBIDDEN INFORMATION – NOT ALLOWED

Music.

FORBIDDEN INFORMATION – NOT ALLOWED

Insects.

FORBIDDEN INFORMATION – NOT ALLOWED

Must be temporarily down, I think to myself. I’ll ask Roderick in the morning.

I turn on the vid screen and choose a classic pirate film. I recall a man swinging from one ship to the next before I drift off to sleep… For the first time in my recent memory, I do not dream.

IV

The next two weeks pass in a blur. Every morning following the Roderick inspection, I stay behind to train with Hawthorne. We are fast becoming good friends (at least in my estimation) and I have grown to trust him more than I’ve trusted another person in quite some time. I am fully functional now as a sub pilot and Hawthorne has been accompanying Stuart and me for the last few days more as a final check of aptitude than to provide any new information. Today, Hawthorne has slipped out for a dive as Stuart collects sea floor samples and I pilot the sub looking for unique specimens. As usual, I have no idea what Stuart is actually looking for or if what he is collecting is just for practice. Most days, he releases all he has collected before we head back up.

“Move us over by that rock formation, Cole. I see something.” I’ve gotten very good at precise movements underwater and we smoothly slide over to where Stuart has directed. “Perfect. Thank you.”

“You should see me parallel park,” I say in my driest tone. Stuart smirks and continues peering into his scope. I watch as the robotic claw rocks back and forth, sweeping away silt from an object half buried in the sea floor. I hear Stuart gasp.

“I’ll need to blind the main screen,” he says and I quickly try to get a look through the cloudy water before the screen goes black. It is a rounded object, about 7 feet across and a foot tall. The surface is grooved or marked with symbols or etched writing. The robotic claw grasps the object and starts to flip it up from the floor as the screen dims. “Sorry, about that. Just following orders,” Stuart says, almost genuinely apologetic. I hear a THUD below my feet as the object is loaded into the hold. A second THUD confirms it has been brought aboard and is secure.

The sea floor once again appears before me and I take a good look at the hole where the object had been. It’s deep - as though the object was moving at high speed and impacted with the sea floor as opposed to softly settling into place. Stuart continues reading his instruments and typing data.

Suddenly he jumps up. “I don’t see Hawthorne on my scope! Where is he?” Stuart pushes me aside to look out the front screen. “Turn the sub around, Cole. He may be lost or in trouble.” I grab the controls and rotate the sub around. The sub grinds across the sea floor. I am shaken and lean forward, driving the nose of the sub down. Both Stuart and I are thrown to the floor as we impact.

A Fiction: Part XI

II

I was introduced to the man named Stuart as I climbed into the submersible for the first time. Hawthorne, Stuart and I were to head down below, and Hawthorne would give me a few lessons in submarine operations and protocol while Stuart performed calibrations on the equipment. I took the co-pilots seat and watched as Hawthorne walked me through the power ups.

“This switch is main power. This one: communications. Here is the CG enhancement display and this one: the turbines.” I looked through the glass wall in front of me and noticed all the solid objects on the deck of the ship were outlined with a faint blue haze. I paid close attention assuming there would be a test later on. Stuart flipped on a light over his seat and began switching on equipment in the back. “Stuart has the robotics controls and the emergency systems.”

Stuart looked up and continued where Hawthorne left off. “Here’s a rundown of the emergency systems: first, we have the solar flotation balloon. Pushing this button releases the balloon and it rises to the surface, collecting sunlight and maintaining power – or at least enough to maintain air pressure and a few other critical systems. The balloon also broadcasts a distress signal. In these cases are three fully functional S.C.U.B.A. systems. This hatch in the floor opens, and as long as the sub is within 10 degrees of upright, the internal air pressure keeps the water out. You essentially just drop in. There’s a week of dry rations here, first aid here, defibrillator…” My mind had begun to wander as I looked around the interior of the sub. I imagined being below the surface and the discoveries to be made. I looked at Hawthorne, my curiosity growing as to what his purpose was. “… SONAR display is here. Got it?”

“I think I have most of it, yes. No quizzes yet, OK?”

Stuart smiled. “The tests come later. Today, you’re just here for the ride.”

As if on cue, the sub was lifted into the air. I held the arms of my seat tightly as we swayed above the deck. We were moved out over the water and quickly lowered to the surface. Soon we were moving away from the ship and heading out to open water.

“This lever is for forward motion. This line is dead stop. This direction moves you forward, this direction, back. The wheel is for steering. Left, right, just like a car. Push the steering column forward to nose down, back to nose up. You also have these two pedals for hard side-to-side. Left goes left, right goes right. Easy enough.” He turned to Stuart. “Ready to submerge?”

“Ready,” Stuart answered.

“This dial is for the ballasts. Turn this way to release air, this way to pump them for buoyancy. Would you like to do the honors?” Hawthorne was giddy. Clearly he was enjoying showing off his toy. I carefully turned the dial and with a loud hiss, we slowly sank beneath the waves.

Of course I have seen the docu-vids of sea life and ocean exploration, but nothing prepared me for the sheer beauty I beheld. The early morning sun filtered through the ocean surface on beams of shimmering light; the schools of fishes darting here then there, then here again lit up like pinpoint bulbs. Once settled below, Hawthorne edged us forward and down to the depths below. My stomach caught in my throat as the darkness filled the glass before me; the once clear and shining sea life now highlighted with artificial blue haze on the screen. Something large skirted the edge of our view and momentarily filled the height of the left side – then it darted away, never to be identified.

“The sub can withstand a depth of 5,000 meters,” Hawthorne said as I fought nausea. “Any deeper and we crumple like a tin can. The sea floor here is only 1,500 meters, so no worries. It’ll take about an hour to get all the way down there, so sit back and relax. Once there, I’ll let you take the wheel and we can do a little ‘joy riding’.”

I leaned my head back in my seat and closed my eyes to settle my stomach. Soon I lost the thread of my thoughts and slipped into dream. I dreamed of birds floating through the sky, weightless. I had no body and land was nowhere to be seen – just birds and sky…

A Fiction: Part X

Chapter 2: Into the Ether

I

FORBIDDEN INFORMATION – NOT ALLOWED

So much for a web search for Elijah Hawthorne, I think as I prepare for sleep. Today was an interesting day and I am becoming more and more curious what the goal of this ‘research’ is. We’ve been heading due south for nearly two weeks without so much as a decrease in speed. The intensity of the labor I am required to do has made the time pass quickly. Today, as the men were gathered on the deck for the morning inspection, the ship was brought to a standstill. Roderick came down as he always does, but today had a dejected look I’ve not seen before.

“Gentlemen, our guests have requested you all spend the day below deck. A few of you may be asked to come up if extra hands are required at any point, but primarily you will stay below. I have drawn up a list of tasks for you to do both in teams and individually.” He sighed, “I hope this is not indicative of what we are to expect of the next few weeks. I can only imagine the state of the ship if we are not allowed access to maintain her over days or weeks. The filth…” He swept his eyes around the deck and ran his hand down the brass rail behind him, looking longingly at the sparkling sheen. “That is all. Have a safe day.” Roderick slowly turned and began to walk in the direction of the control room, his head slightly bowed as if defeated.

Before he reached the stairs, he was stopped by Nelson, who requested to have a word. They walked together out of earshot of the rest of the crew and had what appeared to be a rather animated discussion. At one point they stopped and looked back at the crew, who were now going over the task list and creating a plan for the day’s work. The schedule created, the men started filing below deck for the day below.

“Mr. Cole?” I heard Roderick call behind me. “Please return to the deck.” Hendricks shot me a look of concern as I turned to walk back. Roderick and Nelson stood together at the foot of the stairway waiting for me.

“Mr. Cole, Nelson tells me you have been getting on quite well on Angel’s Head.”

“I feel lucky to be aboard, sir. That is true. I hope I have met your expectations, sir.” Nelson nodded in approval of my tone.

“Mr. Cole, you have exceeded them. As reward for your efforts, Nelson has nominated you to stay on deck today and work with our guests. I hope this opportunity meets your approval?”

“Yes, sir. I appreciate the recognition. But surely there are men below with more experience who may be more deserving.”

“Your inexperience is part of why you have been chosen, Mr. Cole. You have not yet acquired any bad habits from what I can tell. Nelson will bring you to Dr. Sawyer to give you a once over. The physical requirements of the tasks ahead could be dangerous if you have any unforeseen physical weaknesses. A precaution we must take. Surely you understand.”

“Of course, sir. Thank you, sir” With that, Roderick climbed up to the control room and went inside leaving me in the care of Nelson, who directed me to the back deck and the office of Dr. Sawyer. The office was what you would expect of a ship’s doctor: an exam table, a folded X-ray machine strapped to the wall, all the tools of the trade either screwed down or held with Velcro, presumably in case of rough seas.

Dr. Sawyer was seated at a small desk in the corner, head in hands reading through papers. He spun around as we entered and said, “What is it? What do you want?” He appeared distressed in some way and I was momentarily concerned he may become violent. Nelson wasn’t phased.

“And a ‘good morning’ to you Dr. Sawyer. Our Mr. Cole here has been selected to work with our guests in their scientific endeavors,” Nelson said calmly. It appeared he knew what to expect from the good doctor and had learned how to handle him as well. Dr. Sawyer smiled and stood, extending a hand.

“Of course, of course. Do sit down,” he said as he motioned me to the exam table. “Thank you, Nelson. I will send him after you once we have completed.” Nelson bowed his head, gave me a wink and stepped out the door.

It was a surprisingly thorough exam: lifting limits, spirometry, stress tests. He even included a psychological analysis which consisted of him saying a short statement while looking into my eyes with a magnified scope presumably to watch for pupil dilation. A few I remember:

A fish jumps to the shore and is trapped in the sun

A woman is taken against her will by three men

An astronaut discovers a leak in his helmet during a space walk

A man stands outside a burning house,his family trapped inside

That sort of thing. I was distracted throughout the exam by the odor of Dr. Sawyer. I gathered that his unkempt appearance extended beyond his clothes and shaving discipline. His sessions of bathing are few and far between. He can’t have much experience in close quarters, I thought to myself. “Have you been on many voyages, doctor?”

“This is my first,” he answered shortly. Clearly not open to further discussion. “I hereby declare you fit to serve in the name of SCIENCE!” he shouted and raised his hands above his head. I caught a fleeting hint of a smile. “Now go. GO and do not come back unless you are dying.” He attempted a faux German accent. I guess this is what Dr. Sawyer considers humor. I gathered my things, put back on my black belt and coat and headed out the door.

The research team was on the front deck when I made my way forward. Hawthorne was manning a mechanical hoist that lifted the submersible out of the water and over the deck. I could feel Roderick’s eyes from the control room as the sub was lowered to two U-shaped stands, his concern for the condition of the ship. But despite a slow swaying of the sub, Hawthorne expertly lowered it gently to rest.

The sub looks like a large, blue egg with robotic arms extending from beneath and a turbine on each side. The access hatch extends from the top of the sub and there are storage boxes inlayed along the sides. I helped secure the sub to the stands and help attach the ladder to the side so the team can go in. Hawthorne barked a few orders to his team and they quickly began loading the sub with tools and equipment. Then, to my surprise, Hawthorne walked over to me.

“I hear you are joining our team, Mr. Cole,” he said. “Welcome.”

“I’m just here to help. Anything you need, sir.” He put a hand on my shoulder.

“Nonsense,” he said. “You’re coming with us. I am the only one who can pilot the sub on the ship. The rest of my team are lacking in the instincts to learn – scientists – you know. So I have asked the captain to provide me with a member of the crew to become my backup. They named you.”

I was stunned. “I’ve never been in a submersible, sir. Are you sure I’m qualified?”

“Have you ever driven a car? It’s a talent becoming rare these days. Well, have you?”

“Yes, sir. I had a car until just a few months back.”

“Then clearly you are my man,” he said with a large grin on his face.