Deep Blue Sea

I Could Ride all Day in My Cool Blue Train I live in a town full of rain, a liquid city. Weve got water up to our gills and Im having trouble breathing. The bilge-pumps are struggling and the overflows are overflowing -- hell, even the air is wet. Before today it rained for thirty-three consecutive days and the water level went up eight inches. The tilt was cramped enough already, and now the waters pushing up and were pushing out. The !i"ers are getting ready to build another level and move us all upstairs again. #ll this water, and we cant drin$ any of it. Were down to two cups of clean a day. Its probably a good thing. al %o$ed the other day that one misplaced piss and we might all be swimming. The clean pipe which runs from the purifiers up to the $itchen is beginning to taste no different to the rest of it. The water in the showers is thic$ and coloured and you feel cleaner without it. #fter the rain, everything stin$s. The purifiers can only do so much. The food situation though is %ust about stable. There are seaweed crops. ome days we eat fish and some days we eat fish substitute. #s of last wee$, downstairs became submarine. Its li$e someone drowned my youth, because we were brought up down there. That was bac$ when there were still children allowed on the tilt, before all of that was ta$en over to the &ries. I was eleven then. # big transport arrived and mothers and children made a mass e"odus. '"cept for me, because my mother was dead and I was sic$ and didnt qualify. They left me to see if Id ma$e it. I tell myself that maybe now that I have, someone will come bac$. They never do, though. oon after that the travel permits came in, and no one goes now who isnt ta$en. (eople arrive, and are put to wor$. But they never leave, no one gets permits now. )nce when the water was lower, before the )verboards were even built, I sat on a step and watched the last swan anyone here ever saw, floating in the water li$e a long-

nec$ed lily, an opening fist of a flower. Then the thunderous snap of its wings in ta$e-off. The immense clean span of its flight. *aybe its gotten bigger as I remember it, but it was huge. 'ven then it loo$ed li$e a creature from myth. +o one dared $ill it, not for food. But now the )verboards are built, everyone else I $new then is gone, no ones seen any $ind of a bird e"cept seagulls for years, and even theyve finally learnt to stay away from the rigged netting we set. !rom time to time a helicopter flies over, going this way or that. )ut to the west the line that loo$s li$e the hori,on is actually the start of the &ries -- a great levee $eeping the water at bay. Though with the weather lately, I dont want to thin$ about the $ind of trouble theyre having over there. There is -pstream and &ownstream. The main currents run right past town, and lately theres something dar$ in the Wide .hannel, li$e a slip of oil spooned into the river and threading along it. Theyve cut off the inflow for a couple days while someone wor$s out whos dumping what, but in the meantime everything is progressively stagnating, and after all the rain there are traces of blac$ even in the water downstairs. There are rumours its infiltrated the seaweed crop, though I havent been to see. .ant stand the smell there, is the thing. #nd no one $nows what the dar$ stuff is. # couple of people have grown sic$. But Ive been sic$ a long time, since the beginning. ince I remember, which is always. I get chills which come and go and I natter my teeth with nausea for a day. #ll I can do is give the doctor a call, then curl up and wait for someone to bring pills. They bring pills. Those days I stay in my bun$. Were berthed in a raised railway carriage, the insides torn out and the bun$s built in, %ust the blue of the upholstery remaining. *ost days Im the only person in. 'veryone else wor$s. It sways on stilts in the wind. #nd with the noise of the bilge-pumps churning away on the lower dec$s below you might %ust thin$ youre moving, if you ta$e your pills and close your eyes. I could ride all day in my cool blue train If my cool blue train would just stay in lane

Ive been writing lately but it hasnt been going well. +o one li$es the stories Ive finished, and I cant seem to get them out. !or a few days now Ive been trying to write a story Ive called 0Trash. Its about a world ruined by a *a%or .limate 'vent so that everyone who can has left the world. The firefighters and geriatrics have gone off to live on the sun. #nyone who can afford it has relocated to cooler planets out in the solar system. Theres %ust an underclass left on the world living in these tiny cells which are part of one great machine, which gives energy and cools the temperature to bearable by recycling waste. #ir and water are strictly rationed. +othing is thrown away. Theres terrible overcrowding, but strict individual segregation has been established by some un$nown controlling body, to quell trouble and prevent breeding. o there are these tiny cells full of the inhabitants own waste and rubbish, and in one of these cells theres a desperate man who feels he does not belong there, who is forming a plan to get up out of the cells, and thin$s that he could survive it all if only this one girl were there with him. If you were with me, he thin$s, I could survive it all. But shes not, and I cant wor$ out how to end it. Im really not good at science-fiction. till, I thin$ its a pretty funny story, considering. )ne theyll appreciate. But even with the pills I cant get it done. I %ust curl up and get as warm as I can, and still I $eep sha$ing. Then before everyone else gets bac$, I fall asleep, riding all night in my cool blue train. 1ou can get travel sic$ staying in the bun$s too long. One Day I Grow a Horses Head Today I ta$e my pills and grow a horses head. Its something Ive been meaning to do for a long while. When everyone else is out of the bun$s I ta$e my pills and my forehead splits and lengthens. I loo$ for a reflection in the mur$y glass window, and Im a horse, Im a horse. I stay that way all day and by the evening Ive got a big old headache in my big old head. till, the thing about horses is that theyre honest above all, and some days you need to be that way. I get dressed and go dec$ to dec$ until I reach the bar. The rains holding off and its a dry wal$ over. 2eavy tarpaulins hang over the bar entrance and you have to slide in

through them. The air inside is close and thic$. 'veryones there, everyone who can be. They cant drin$ water so they come to drin$ the whis$y. By the entrance on the inside theres the Idol. The Idols made from an old diving suit stuffed with plastic straw, the suit itself too ripped and the rubber too spoiled to be any use. The head is a round mas$ with blac$ stone eyes, li$e an insects, and has two old flippers for oversi,ed ears. The Idol blesses the bar, and if you bapti,e it with whis$y itll bless you too. But theres always the weighing up to do -- precious whis$y or unli$ely luc$4 I always choose the whis$y. #fter all, how luc$y can anyone get4 als waiting behind the bar, a worn loo$ on his worn old face. 2es standing beneath a fading drawing of an alligator someone did once, charcoaling it onto the wood wall at the front. The alligator grins, and I grin bac$. 0Whis$y, al4 I say. 01oure late, he says. 0*aybe when youre done. If youre good. 2e bangs the bar and things quiet down, a little. ometimes they want to listen and sometimes they dont. Tonight they dont seem too sure either way. I stand up on the bar and read out a story. Its an old one but they havent heard it, and I couldnt write anything new. Its about a boy and a girl who meet and fall in love and generally cause each other completely ine"plicable amounts of happiness. They get engaged and e"change vows of undying love one perfect day. They live 2appily 'ver #fter, until one day when she tells him shes leaving him. he ta$es her bags and starts to wal$ out on him and he cant believe it, hes in tears, I mean hes being completely torn apart here because very real pieces of him are going out the door with her and the horrible bitterness on his tongue is a foretaste of his own death, but he gets himself together enough to say, but you said youd love me forever. #nd this at least causes her to pause at the door, and she turns round, and hes waiting for her to .ome Bac$ In and 5eali,e he *ade # *ista$e, and to *a$e It #ll #lright #gain. )r at least explain. But in fact all that happens is that she slips a pu,,led loo$ on her face and she says, well gee, honey, it sure felt like forever. #nd off she goes. They dont li$e this one at all. ome of the !ishers and !ooders who have been struggling all day to gauge and gain resources dont want to hear this $ind of thing. They

do not li$e it one bit, and for a minute Im in danger of being lynched by a couple of the larger thugs. There is a distribution of discontent, which can always get nasty. Then one of the 7a,y unbathers stands up from where hes been sitting, holding up his bag of stones, and things calm down. 8rateful, Im merely $ic$ed out of the bar, forbidden to read stories for a wee$, and told in whispered threats that whatever it is, it had better be better ne"t time, or Ill be loo$ing for a new career. #s Im being dragged out the crowd disperses, dousing the Idol with whis$y on its way out to purify the place after my disturbing of the peace. Bad stories will do that. I go bac$ to s$ul$ in the bun$s for a while. Then the chills come over me and I get a heat beating at the thin s$ull around my temples and my teeth begin to natter. I could sleep all night in my cool blue train If my cool blue train would just kill the pain Getting Back Together as One !ong "egotiation

#t the end of the wee$ a helicopter appears and hovers overhead. I was with the chills up in the bun$s and didnt see it, but al did, and he comes by to tell me about the hovering. 2e says he saw ropes flung from the inside of the helicopter, and four men in blac$ leap out and slide down, landing on the dec$s where the canoes are usually moored. +ot that we have any canoes anymore. 2e laughs and tells me that one of the men too$ one step and fell straight in, before the others dragged him out. They waved to the helicopter, which flew off. With a lot of slipping they got off the dec$s onto the ladders and clambered li$e li,ards up to the )verboards, heading, for sure, for powwow with the 7a,y unbathers. Theyll be out in their dec$chairs wrapped in thic$ towels against the cold. I feel a lot better after he tells me that. *en dont come from helicopters %ust to stay. They come with reasons. omething important. .ontact with the others is always good for the tilt. 1ou can go for months otherwise and thin$ that youre all there is in the world. #nd then they might %ust have come for you. 1ou never $now. I thin$ to go over to the main dec$ to see whats going on, but I $now Ill never get close.

By then my ban from the bar is over so I spend the rest of the day writing a story which I read out that night. The bar is full, as its always full. 'veryones in. Theres something strange about the atmosphere that I cant quite place. Theyre waiting for news from the 7a,y unbathers, apart from everything else. We li$e to be $ept informed. But the 7a,y unbathers arent here, which means theyre still in counsel. #ll the same I sense theres something Im missing. 0Theyre e"pecting better, warns al when he sees me. 0&ont disappoint, will ya4 2e gives me some whis$y and I ta$e a bitter sip to loosen my lips. Then I climb on the bar and begin to tell them a story. Its a story set over in the &ries. Its about a terrible earthqua$e which consumes a city, and how all these wonderful buildings with people in them turn into mass graves of rubble. I $now theyll listen. They li$e to imagine the &ries, or have it imagined for them. They li$e to hear words li$e concrete and skyscraper. Its about how after the tremors died down and nearly everyones dead and buried, the rescuers are ma$ing a futile and endless effort to search for survivors. #nd how constantly hanging around them is this one little girl whos %ust in floods of tears because shes lost her mummy, and shes lost her dog as well, and no one has any time to pic$ her up and comfort her. Its an affecting story, seriously. o this girl is wandering around crying and eventually one of the rescuers, an e"hausted fireman, stops from lifting rubble and bends down to face her, and in his weary way is about to tell her that everyones dead but that they will $eep loo$ing for her mummy, even though he $nows in his heart that her mummy is certainly and painlessly panca$e-flat, but meanwhile she should follow the other people bac$ to the assembly point where she can get some food, because isnt she really hungry4 2es %ust gathering these words together when theres a bar$, and hes bac$ and focused in an instant because he thin$s its one of the rescue dogs thats found someone -- probably a piece of someone rather than the whole of someone -- but then he reali,es that the bar$ was muted and suppressed li$e it came from beneath the rubble, from where nothings been heard for many an hour. # do,en rescuers triangulate on the spot and start shifting wrec$age, %ust

to get to this possibly trapped animal, because fran$ly any sign of life is going to feel li$e redemption on a day li$e that. Behind the fireman, though he cant see, the little girls face has %ust lifted because she $nows she %ust heard her dog bar$, no way in heaven shed fail to recogni,e it. #nd she quietens down and sits, waiting for the rescuers to fetch her dog. Then there are no more bar$s and I play with my audience a little. 1ou $now -maybe theyve dug in the wrong place, maybe the dogs going to be dead by the time they get there, maybe its not really the girls dog after all, that $ind of thing. ;eep them rapt. Then theres a huge bloc$ lifted and in an impossible crawl-space beneath it is the little girls beautiful dog, loo$ing up an"iously at the sudden light and all the people. #nd the rescuers are completely stopped in their trac$s, because what is more, the dog is being held in a womans arms, and the woman, though covered in dust and suffering some obvious distress and a trapped foot, is not only alive but conscious, and when they pull her out the little girl stands up and in the happiest tired voice you can imagine, says< Mummy. #nd her mummy reaches out a hand for the little girl and when their hands meet she says, oh sweetheart, its all right sweetheart, Ive got you. I hear al sob %ust behind me. The regulars are in tears. I swear theres rainfall from eye level down. 7i$e Ive precipitated a microclimate locali,ed in the bar. With absolutely no e"ceptions, e"cept for these four guys dressed in blac$ who I only %ust notice at the table at the bac$, %ust round the curve of the wall. Who have apparently finished consultation with the 7a,y unbathers and have come to sample from our whis$y still. #nd who are not crying. Though they appear to be listening. These, though, are distractions I cant deal with now. I havent finished my story, even though they thin$ I have. I regain their attention. I spea$ with scorn. I go on to say that, because theyre crying, they havent understood a word of what Ive been saying, that they dont seem to reali,e that it was a terrible story, that thousands of people died, that the ending was not a happy ending but a false one, a %arring one, an ironic one. That their reaction is sentimental and naive and disappointing, that despite everything here theyre still pumped full of illusions, that they still have illusions practically flowing out of them.

That what they thin$ I meant to say was< theres so much crap in the world, and then all of a sudden theres honesty and humanity and hope. Whereas what I actually meant to say was< its all just crap. The silence continues %ust a bit longer, while they weigh this up. Then there is uproar. You little fucking shit. You little fucking cunt. This time there are none of the 7a,y unbathers here to calm it down. omething glass is thrown hard at me, a whis$y glass heavy in the air as it whis$s past my ear and shatters against the alligator drawing. They do not li$e being moc$ed. They do not li$e being made to feel stupid. I %ump down quic$ behind the bar, but al steps away from me. I had him, too. )ne of the big !ooders from the $itchen leans over the bar and ma$es a grab for me. 2e has tears still smudged in the dirt of his chee$s, but hes loo$ing ugly, murderous. 2es balled his fist. It goes bac$ to his shoulder and I curl up down on the floor waiting for the pummelling. )ne blow hits my bac$ but its soft, hes in an aw$ward position leaning over and I sense him read%usting for better purchase. But nothing comes e"cept air, and the noise is no longer all around, but becoming isolated. 'veryone was shouting and now theres %ust one person shouting. I get up to see who it is. It is one of the men in blac$. # ripple of silence emanates from him, goes along with his voice. 2e shouts and they uieten. I can see it crossing the room, and it loo$s li$e fear to me. They are afraid of this man. Who does not even bother to reveal his gun. 'veryone already knows he has it. 'ven if no one $nows who or what he is. +o one has ever e"plained. ome things we %ust accept. 0>uiet, he says finally, when he no longer needs to shout, and the whole bar is already quieter than its ever been before. 2e loo$s round to catch the eyes of the room, and none of them seem inclined to meet him. Then he loo$s at me, and I loo$ at him and I cant loo$ away. 2es younger than I thought. ?ust about my own age. Then he smiles, so quic$ it ma$es me doubt I saw it. 0?ust pipe down, alright4 he says as he loo$s at me. Then he sits down with the others and they resume their drin$ing, all in silence. #nd so does everyone else, but only in fear, not because they want to. They dont dare loo$ at the men in blac$, but they loo$ at me, and they havent forgiven.

I want to go over to the table where the men in blac$ have settled bac$ down. They are not loo$ing at me. I want to see if I recogni,e the others, if one of the men is perhaps a woman. If they have new friends now. +ot that it matters. But al has grabbed my arm and pulled me bac$ behind the bar. 01oud better go, he says. 01ou might not be reading any more, but youll live, if youre luc$y. Theres always a %ob in the $itchens, right4 2e pushes me into the bac$ room, the one with the still. # yellow liquid bleeds through thin tubes where al turns water into whis$y. I thin$ to go bac$ into the bar but then al would probably $ill me himself, so I lift the trapdoor and go down the ladder into the dan$ lower dec$s, the ran$ smell of salt and rotting seaweed, the fetid warmth. Deep Blue Sea Its all very well feeling safe where there are protective men with guns around, but outside the bar theres no certainty that a !isher or a !ooder wont be hanging around, waiting for me with a meat hoo$. #nd seeing as dumping bodies is an #-list crime at the moment Ait pollutes the water &ownstream, causing diplomatic issuesB, there would only really be the $itchen to drag me to, and fish substitute. o I hang out for a while, not below dec$s where its dar$ and shadows and I cant see anyone coming, but up on a small disused fishing dec$ far from the bar, near the carriage. Its cold, but I can live with that. Theres a moon, off-round, but big and white and silvering the water so I can almost see the blac$ in it. The clouds are thin grey ghosts speeding by on the ethers. I sit and shiver, and its not the chills for once, %ust the cold. +o one comes. I get to thin$ing I might have been a bit hard on them with the story. #fter all, everyone here lost their mother once. *aybe I was wrong to moc$ their illusions. I get quite miserable, thin$ing about it. It ma$es me thin$ I should write another story for them, to ma$e up for it. But theyll never let me read again now. Which gets me further down. o I try and wor$ out whether Im going to be able to get out or not. I give the men in blac$ time to leave the bar. I stay crouched on my dec$ and then when I thin$ its safe I %ust shin straight up a stilt and over to the carriage.

DE

Bac$ to my bun$ room, but theres no sign of anyone, which Id half been hoping. *aybe they havent come after all. *aybe I misunderstood. But then I see my bun$. There, wrapped with an outrageously inappropriate blue ribbon and topped with an enormous matching stic$-on bow, is an aqualung. Its a little battered, with a dent in the tan$, but there is a gauge and a tap and a mouthpiece and I $now it will wor$. Beside the aqualung is a lattice of dry stic$s tied together with twine. It loo$s li$e a cats cradle of string, e"cept theres a nagging familiarity to the design of it. # larger stic$ down the centre with a tiny white shell glued beside it, another shell at the edge of the criss-cross structure. I turn it both ways, circle it round, and loo$ing down on it eventually wor$ it out. Its a map of currents. The large stic$ is the Wide .hannel. The shell beside it is a big arrow saying 1ou #re 2ere. The other shell represents omething 'lse. #nd for a while Id thought all the clues were going to be in code, and Id be always wondering if they were even there. I ta$e the last silver strip of pills from my stuff, and ma$e to pop a couple through. o I can do it. But then I stop. (erhaps the pills are a bad idea, the last thing I need. Its not the time to be confused. +o pills today, then. *y cool blue train will have to stay away. Ill be going under my own steam. I sort my stuff and listen for sounds. #bout the time I feel the bun$s will start filling up I gather my stuff together then leave by the )verboards. +o one ta$es the )verboards at night because theyre not that safe. 'ven if I hit the water when I fall, I cant swim. The waters not clean, so who learns to swim4 If you fall in and dont get pulled out, you drown, the way my mother did. If you fall in and get pulled out, the way I did, you get sic$. This time, though, I dont fall. I thought Id have trouble hauling the aqualung but its weight balances me. I ta$e the high boards all the way until Im above the bar, and then I wait up there till it empties and I see al come out. #nd then I wait some more. The misshapen moon circles round for a better loo$ and the wispy ghosts go by. I slide down a stilt and push through the tarpaulins. Inside its pitch but I find the bar with outstretched arms and ma$e my way round it. I reach up to the shelf with my hands, careful not to $noc$ anything glass. I ta$e the waterproof torch from the tin over

DD

the bar and switch it on, so I can operate quic$er. I put the tin bac$. I dismantle, as quietly as I can, the Idol by the door, ripping its flipper-ears off and pulling free too some strands of plastic straw I can use, to tie them to my feet. I tear patches off the rubber suit for warmth. #nd then I drag everything bac$ up the stilts, tie the flippers to my feet and the rubber patches round my arms and legs. I belt up the aqualung and suc$ hard on the mouthpiece. The needle on the dial flic$ers, but doesnt drop down from the !-77 indicator. I pic$ up the torch and the stic$ map. Then I lean bac$wards, $nowing I should probably have tried to get down the ladders so I was closer to the water when I fell, but $nowing too that the only way of persuading myself to get into the water at all was to ta$e myself by surprise, a pre-emptive stri$e. With the heavy lung on my bac$ I roc$et downwards, overhead and headfirst, and penetrate the water. Theres an immense splash that consumes me before I leave it behind. Im so shoc$ed I forget to go to the surface, then as I start to sin$ I begin to panic, until I reali,e I can breathe %ust fine. I appear to be all there. #ll here. ?ust the map disintegrated in my hand -- I thin$ I crushed it myself in the fall, or perhaps it wasnt meant to be used underwater. But I dont need it. I am by the little shell. I am heading for the other shell. I give my flippers a $ic$ and Im propelled pretty effectively through the mur$y water. omehow through all of that I managed to $eep hold of the torch in my other hand, and even luc$ier, the torch wor$s. I never thought Id be submarine again, not after the first time. There are two things about the underwater that overwhelm me, only one of which I was e"pecting and thats the cold. Its not li$e air cold. Wrapping up doesnt help. The rubber doesnt help. There are cold currents and warmer currents, but basically its cold li$e death. It presses in. *y eyes are wide with it. #ll I can do is $eep moving. The other thing is the possibilities. # world in three dimensions of a scope bigger than I imagined. &irectly beneath the boards its not so deep -- I can see the muddy bottom where most of the stilts are buried, and where the bars anchor is half buried. The torch can sort of pic$ them out. But where the Wide .hannel is, the water floor %ust drops sharp away into a trench and it opens out all oceanic and limitless, the water cleaner and the visibility too improved. Then you feel li$e youre floating above a great space, rather than thin$ing about how deep beneath the surface you are.

D/

I $now I have to cut first across the Wide .hannel. I can see the stain of blac$ running thic$er than ever above me but I glide right beneath it through clearer waters. ?ust little $ic$s of my legs, flic$ing the flippers, and I move right along. Ive never felt so free. I go $ic$ $ic$ $ic$ slide. I could ride all day in my cool blue train In my cool blue train Ill shelter from the rain Ive a head-full of shells and shelters. I get out far beyond the Wide .hannel. Its difficult now to $eep my bearings, to be sure Im still going away from the tilt. ometimes I have to stop $ic$ing, to see if Im being moved by a current, to see if its ta$ing me left or right or forward or bac$. I chec$ my air and its still in the upper half. I slip into one of the current streams and slide along with it. I start to $eep an eye out for the pipe, if its there, if I dont miss it. If I go too far, how do I get bac$4 !eep uiet there. "ipe down. There is a pipe, and I will follow it down. Those were the directions. Its good for once to have instructions. #fter you decide to follow them everything is easy, you dont need to ma$e anything up. The dial is registering almost empty, less than a quarter left, when I find the pipe. It is large and iron and runs along the sea bed, then turns a corner and plunges over a cliff, going straight down to where the moonlight doesnt reach. I shoot down along it, $ic$ing all the way. I $eep my torch on the iron side of the pipe and soon thats all I can see. The pressure hugs me, squee,es me till I start to feel di,,y. I can see cold and blac$ and %ust a tiny patch of light and this pipe still going down. I could surface, but Id never get bac$ so deep again. #nd theres nothing up above me anyway. The surface seems a lonely place to be. ?ust before the pipe runs straight into the mud floor theres an oval opening. *y torch shines into it, but its %ust the inside of a pipe. # small compartment. I swim in. With one hand and the torch loo$ing I feel round the edge of the opening and find a door. ome $ind of airloc$. # door on the outside and somewhere then a door on the inside too. The first door shuts infinitely slowly. The dial on my air reads empty. I pull a breath and it still comes out so I hold it for as long as I can. I loo$ for the switch or the sign or the

D3

way out. The second door. I scan the insides of the pipe section, trying to orient which way is up, which way is out. Then the torch goes out. Then I ta$e a breath that cuts out half way through. The tan$ is empty. *y arms and legs spasm in a panic which ta$es hold of me, Im squirming and $ic$ing out, thrashing and trapped, until I bash my arm and feel the pain from it, a numbness heavier than the one already overta$ing me. There is something on the wall. ome $ind of a handle on the wall. # circular handle on a shaft. I grasp it in my left hand and pull myself to it, holding whats left of my breath. Too late now to surface. Too late for most everything. +ot too late to decide which way the handle turns, if it even turns. .loc$wise. I turn but cant move it. Too late to try the other way4 )r should I %ust $eep forcing it4 It might not have been moved for generations. Too late for any of this4 I bring my legs up past me and plant my feet on the wall. I grip tighter, apply torque. The last of the breath bubbles out of me with the effort. I suc$ but nothing else comes and my chest leaps li$e a mad heartbeat. #nd then there is a give, a definite slight give. #nd then a further turn. But there is no air, and my arms and head are rebelling, threatening to convulse. 'verything is already blac$, but the blac$ is coming further inside now, into my blind eyes and my empty lungs. I force the handle one last time and there is a silent roaring which ta$es everything away in a long dar$ falling, save the blac$ness. Its the shivering that wa$es me. *y body sha$ing li$e a !ooder has gotten hold and is rattling me li$e a bag of stones. But my lungs are going, clattering in and out. The air is awful, and I ma$e to re%ect every breath, but I stutter and cough and carry on. I pull off the heavy aqualung, which was lying aw$ward beneath me, $eeping my face out of the water Im in. I stand up and cho$e, and $ic$ something with my foot, which turns out to be the torch. I can hardly get my hand to close on it, it seems to ta$e minutes to get my grip. Irritatingly enough, the torch seems to be wor$ing again. I loo$ around. Im in a pipe, but not the one I was %ust in, because this one seems to go hori,ontally. *y hands cant untie the flippers and in the end I %ust rip them off.

D6

ome of the twine digs in my foot and cuts through the s$in. *y feet are too cold to feel it. The s$in is blue and no blood runs. I choose a direction and start to slosh along through the water. The pipe tilts upwards, fractionally. The water is definitely getting shallower. The inside of the pipe is thic$ with slime. It is dar$ and cold and heavy and where I am I dont $now. I wal$ for ages, until the torch dims and the waters down to my an$les. There is another door bloc$ing my way but it has a handle which twists it open to a shrie$ing of rust and metal. The tunnel beyond it is cleaner. 7ess muc$, less slime, hardly any water on the floor. #nd then I reali,e I dont need the torch any more. It was dar$ and then it isnt. Theres a light at the end of the tunnel, a faint light, but it reflects off the wet of the pipe and I can see where Im going. I turn the torch off to save the batteries, and stumble on. #t the end of the tunnel theres a sealed door with a thic$ window in it. #nd through the window I can see someone standing there with his bac$ to the door, apparently guarding it. 2es dressed in blac$ li$e his own shadow and is carrying a large gun. Beyond him I cant quite ma$e things out. Things seem to be green. Things seem to open out a bit. I bang on the glass with the butt of my torch and the guard physically leaps about a foot in the air. 2e pulls his face up to the window and peers through, blind in the dar$ness. 2is face loo$s weird pressed up to the glass, I can see every flattened pore, and the panic in his eyes. Then a shift of the light or his eye and I $now he can see me. We stare at each other a moment, and I watch his mouth drop open in slow motion. Then he is gone. The seal crac$s, the hatch opens inwards and I tumble in, and for a second time blac$ falls all over me, but this time Im grateful for the body heat. There is shouting in a language I dont understand. (inned on the soft floor I can smell something. +ot %ust the shoc$ of outside air after the aqualungs rarefied mi" and the stagnant air of the pipe, not %ust that. omething else. omething too beautiful for words, something that needed to be shared. omething youd smell that would remind you of your youth, maybe even something that would cause you to go bac$. Im too crushed to start laughing, but the shivering starts, and ma$es me feel warm.