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.