|
Info
Humanity is at stake, our peers are lost and soon it'll only be us. One by one we are lost, not in space, or time, but our humanity. What even makes us human? And why do we lose it? (An An Anthology Page) All An Anthology Pages:
|
Tale
I wade awkwardly through the shy waves in Level 37, each step an muted splash. I am with two partners, and we are tethered together, the sole reason we haven't blinked away. The lights from the endless voids for windows lie long, and caustics disperse our shadows. We move wordlessly, in a single-file order. I am in front, Johnson, carrying the anchor stake and tethers, is in the center, and Holloway is in the back.
In this operation, I am the team lead. Why does it have to be me, every single time? Why must I bare the responsivities? At a certain point, I won't be able to take it anymore. "We're nearing the AO. Johnson, ready the the anchor stake, I'll prepare our equipment with Holloway" I say, plainly. I can't care anymore about small talk, or emotions. Not when it could cost lives.
Johnson and Holloway call out "Heard." A few breaths pass silently before we reach the AO. It's minimally defined, the only clear indicators is the light spilling into a cliff in the floor that goes into the dark. It's a more open area, with pillars in perfect lines, running a few meters.
In warning, I command, "Johnson, be careful of the cliff, but proceed to use the tripoint method."
Johnson replies, "On it, tying up the anchor." He's already off, wrapping large tethers around the pillars of the AO. I go to Holloway, and prep the quick release lines.
Holloway looks at me, "What's the point of using the quick release lines?" He's a rookie, and sorrow tints my heart.
Melting, I drop the formalities, "Don't worry about it. It's the last thing you need to know." I begin to test each and every valve, each one making my heart sting just a bit more.
"Why?" He pushes. My breathing is getting heaver. This is bad. I can't let this take over.
"Please, don't question my decisions, Holloway." I can tell he is about to ask another question, so I turn him around and check his work. Just one more question and I might call off the operation, I wont let a single risk take another away from me.
"Secured!" Johnson calls out. He has about a year under his belt. That singular fact alone pushes a warm feeling in me. But as usual, the darkness comes back as I think that this might be his last. "Ready for next." He says, as he makes his way to us. I wont let it be his last. I can't.
"Good. Tie up with us, Johnson." And so he does, effortlessly. We clip our secure tethers the anchor, and we put on our full face mask. Even though dread piles up like bricks, I slow my breathing and focus. "Test comms."
On after another, Johnson and Holloway call out "Heard." Holloway's doesn't go through the comms, and I go over to him and fix it. I feel my heart feel something, focus goddamn it. He repeats "Heard." And all is good. Please, God, let all be good.
We wade to the cliff and sit down at the edge. My wetsuit floods with slightly warm water. I check my and Holloway's seal. I look him dead in the eye, and no words could explain how I feel. It hurts but isn't all bad. I feel proud but it isn't all good. Nothing will ever explain it.
I give our last order out of water, and I pray that it won't truly be the last, "Submerge and descend, turn on your headlights and go dark."
Two clicks, and a hazy, ghostly glow shines in the water.
And then
we
sink.
Leading, I reach behind me and tug the quick release line twice. Without delay, Johnson stops, and so does Holloway a moment after. I look up at them, and the bubbles from our tanks. Seeing the tethers going up into the light always feels to me like I'm in space. It's an odd sense of awe that despite the pressures pause time for a moment. "Good." I say, through the comms, "Continue onward."
As do they with every command, Holloway and Johnson chimes "Heard," this time followed by "continuing after you." The comms aren't the most beautiful method of communication, and the audio is pretty hard to hear, but it isn't bad yet. I turn around, equalize, and push onwards, swimming deeper into the pools.
The smooth tiled surfaces that are in perfectly flat faces begin to warp. They warp, stretch, crack and blend, melting into a cave-like surface, rocky and barren. My system shakes and my breathing falters as the water suddenly changes from oddly warm to cold. Very cold. I feel two tugs on the quick release line. "Hey," Holloway is talking, "Could I take a minute to equalize and get used to the water?" Hearing this, I sharply exhale.
My heart burns despite the cold, he's not using the right speech. I know how hard it is, and I can hear exactly what he's saying and why, but I can't have it. "Repeat." I call, and despite the fact that the last thing I want to be is rude, I can't have any sort of miscommunications. I can't lose him.
He tries again, formally, "Peterson. Holloway. Requesting to stop to equalize and adjust." My heart fixes to a normal pace once I hear these words, though my breathing is still off after the shock.
"Holloway, Peterson, approving request to stop." And we stop, floating in the void of water. Our lights illuminate cones making each other visible, and the light from Level 37 has become nearly nothing. "Johnson, Peterson, what is our current depth?"
Johnson's response crackles to life, while Holloway looks like he's still recovering from the rapid temperature change, "Peterson, Johnson, around 20 meters." I sit with this information for a moment, and before I come to a conclusion, Johnson adds, "We're safe for another 20 meters."
Holloway tugs the quick release line and I signal "okay" with my hands. We continue our descent and our surroundings begin to open up even further. The darkness is truly beginning to engulf us. Even though I understand that this is when the dangers really start, I can't help it. This is my favorite part. I look strictly ahead of me, deeper down, but I can feel Holloway's presence. I just hope that I'll continue to.
As the floor of the cave comes into view I spot a hole in the wall. Another cave to explore, what we expected. My radio sputters and crackles and only once I can start to make out what I'm hearing do I get full signal. "-sis."
"Repeat." I say, through the radio.
"Peterson, Johnson, estimated depth is 40 meters, prepare for the potential of nitrogen narcosis."
"Johnson, Peterson, preparing for nitrogen narcosis. Holloway, Peterson, did you hear that?"
"Peterson, Holloway, something about compression forces?"
"No, nitrogen narcosis, Peterson."
"Oh, yeah, nitrogen narcosis, got it. Oh- Holloway."
I tug the quick release line once, and start swimming towards the small opening in the face of the cave. Via radio I add, "Careful not to kick up silt; visibility drops fast in here, so move like you're gliding. Peterson."
"Heard" both Holloway and Johnson calls after, but the radio crackles out before I hear their entire responses. I begin the squeeze in silence, then the radio, distorted and incoherent, sputters back to life, and I only catch the end, "-son."
"Johnson, Peterson, please repeat."
"I'm getting low visibility behind Holloway, Johnson." Holloway must still be kicking up silt, despite the warning. Or maybe he's just inexperienced going through a tight squeeze. My heart aches knowing that it's the latter.
The next few moments pass in silence, as we continue through the tight cave. I could wonder where I am but I don't, all that crosses my mind is a list of names. I can't let my feeling take hold because that means death. I cant let my mind run free because that means death. And God forbid that one dies again. Will I really be able to stay calm once more? Will I really be able to survive being the last?
The quick release line yanks be back, and the force jerks my head upward. If it wasn't for the tanks on my back giving a bit more room I might have gotten a concussion. The radio screams to life, "Help goddamn it!" Amidst the static I can hear Holloway's voice, screaming. "God damn it," I can't tell if he's sobbing or laughing, "Damn it all!" The quick release line pulls me further backward and I unclip it. "Jesus Christ this really is the end, isn't it? No, no no no no no no! Ha! This can't be it!"
"Holloway calm the down! Jesus, you're not dying today!" Johnson is yelling over the comms, and I don't turn around to look. Not only does my equipment make it difficult, I know my heart wont be able to take it.
I can feel the tense water as I known Johnson and Holloway are wrestling in a tango. Or, Holloway's thrashing around and Johnson's trying to calm him down. I can feel the silt being kicked up, and my visibility drops significantly. "The water's leaking! It's leaking! Hahaha!" He's laughing hysterically, or is he crying?
"Johnson, leave him."
"But-"
"Johnson, this is an order."
"No! Shut up! I'm not letting Holloway die!"
"My-" I can hear Holloway's breath as he gasps for air only to be given water, and I can feel the insurmountable pain of water filling his lungs. Holloway gurgles one last ditch to stay conscious but his line dies.
"He's dead! His mask broke! What the hell broke it?" I can't tell Johnson's exact tone over the radio, and I can feel my heart begin to race. I breathe, I cannot afford to use up my air.
"Johnson, return to the anchor point."
"I'm going to re-"
"Don't even think about recovering Holloway's body. He's dead. He's gone, and he's not coming back."
"His family!"
"Do you really think anybody will care if we die?" I take a breath, despite how I try I can't conserve my air. "He doesn't have a family. Not here."
"Please!"
"You will die if you try. You are not recovering his body. Is that clear, Johnson?"
"But-"
"This is an order, Johnson." I slowly begin forward.
A momentary pause feels like an eternity to the both of us.
Even though no audio passes through I know he sighs, "Okay."
"Johnson, isolate your secondary first-stage regulator, and disconnect it. Leave your secondary tank at the entrance to the cave. Don't forget to purge. Take no more than 30 minutes to decompress; you have about 50 minutes left in your primary."
"Yeah…" He pauses for a moment, "Heard. Disconnecting secondary tank, leaving it at the entrance. I'll take about 20 minutes to decompress, we're at about 40 meters."
"See you on the other side."
"See you-" As Johnson is likely making beginning to turn around in the tight cave, his comm cuts out. Until I return, this will be the last I'll hear of him. I am alone, and as my headlight illuminates the silt, all I can do is pray that he survives.