Guided by Duncan’s seasoned but slightly rusty expertise, the submarine began to make subtle adjustments to its trajectory.
Beneath the aquatic territory of the Frost city-state, a massive underwater cliff subtly shifted position. The only visible clues to its movement were given away by the murky ocean water, viewable through the porthole of the submarine.
Gone was the sunlight that had once penetrated the ocean surface. What remained were beams of light emitted by three powerful searchlights mounted on the submarine’s bow. These lights cast expansive, glowing patches on the craggy underwater cliff. Beyond the limits of these bright spots, a shroud of total darkness reigned supreme.
Inside the submarine’s cabin, the monotonous hum of machinery filled the air, punctuated only by the occasional hissing sound from the automated valves that adjusted the vessel’s internal pressure. These unvarying, sterile sounds seemed to magnify the solitude felt by the occupants, adding to the sense of isolation.
This particular brand of loneliness was the kind that surfaced when one stepped away from the comfort of the crowd or ventured beyond the boundaries of established society. It was the unsettling feeling experienced when descending into the boundless depths wrapped in the cloak of the seemingly endless ocean.
Agatha stood quietly in front of the porthole, her eyes fixated on a point outside the submarine. She appeared to be lost in thought, her gaze locked in for what felt like an eternity. Finally, she broke the silence. “The light is dimming, but I can still make out the base of the city-state. It gives off a faint glimmer, serving as a lone guiding light for me in this overwhelming darkness.”
For Agatha, the world appeared distinctively different than it did to most people.
“Do you know what I’m thinking?” Duncan’s voice suddenly broke the silence, coming from behind her.
“What are you pondering?” she asked.
Duncan began to speak in soft tones, his words blending seamlessly with the machine-generated sounds surrounding them. “I believe this is how we perceive the world. Imagine the world as an immense ocean. If we consider civilization as a single entity, then we find ourselves submerged in an endless, mysterious abyss that veils the world from our full understanding.”
“Every so often, we manage to catch fleeting glimpses of different landscapes as they emerge from the dark, while we ourselves stay anchored in the relative safety of civilization’s light. We try to piece together the shape of the world from these transitory snapshots, yet we rarely get a chance to fully understand the complete truth that lies behind these brief illuminations.”
“Assuming this analogy holds, then a lone fallen leaf could obstruct our view of an entire forest. A solitary rock might hide a majestic mountain. A quick flash of a vine illuminated momentarily could actually be a part of some mythical creature lurking in the shadows. Beyond the weak boundary of light lies an entire realm of unknowns, and within that lit space, we discern only fragments of truth, which are constrained by the limitations of our perspectives and temporal circumstances.”
“During these perilous underwater journeys, different people react in varied ways to the obscured reality that exists beyond the visible spectrum of light. Some accidentally catch a glimpse of this enigmatic world, and the revelation drives them to the brink of insanity. Others strive to extend the reach of illumination, exploring the unknown and thereby earning the title of pioneers. However, the line separating these explorers from the madmen is often indistinct and ever-changing. Yet, the majority of people prefer the safety of what we could call the ‘ark’ of ‘civilization,’ content with a limited but adequate light source, their attention narrow and focused on immediate concerns.”
“We refer to these individuals as ‘mundane.'”
“In a world that behaves according to their expectations, they find a comforting sense of stability and security. Hesitant to look beyond the confines of their safe haven, these individuals—often deemed the most ordinary, vulnerable, and powerless—actually constitute the majority. They are the cogs in the machine that ensure the smooth operation of this ark, even offering support to the pioneers and rebels among us.”
As Duncan’s words lingered in the air, the sound of seawater rushing into the submarine’s ballast tanks reverberated from below, punctuating his statement. Simultaneously, the submarine adjusted its angle slightly, accelerating its descent into the ocean’s depths. Outside the forward window, the jagged cliff face, now washed in the brilliant glow of the searchlights, began to recede upward, replaced by the abyss. At any moment, the visible landscape could vanish into unfathomable darkness—or perhaps, it wouldn’t.
Motivated by this contemplation, Duncan scanned their immediate environment. Although the cabin remained well-lit thanks to the overhead lighting fixtures, the familiarity of this enclosed space felt reassuring, especially after staring into the external darkness for an extended period.
However, occasional creaking sounds from the submarine’s hull served as a disquieting reminder: their secure, illuminated cocoon was separated from billions of tons of crushing seawater by merely a thin layer of steel.
This steel shell, a marvel of engineering, was crafted painstakingly by countless ‘mundane’ individuals—craftsmen who may never venture beyond the walls of their city-state, yet had set this modest submarine on its exploratory mission into the great unknown with their skills and wisdom.
After a significant pause, Agatha finally spoke softly, “To be honest, I sometimes feel both fortunate and overwhelmed by my ability to see just a little more than most people can. Like you said, we’re all navigating through an endless abyss, and my sight extends just a tad farther where normal light fails to reach. But often, that feels overwhelmingly insignificant compared to the sheer scale of the unknown that surrounds us.”
Duncan responded softly, “Indeed, when pitted against the immensity of this boundless ocean, a slightly extended field of vision may seem trivial. However, for those of us committed to navigating this vast darkness, the ability to see even one meter farther can be of extraordinary significance.”
With a casual flick of a switch, Duncan turned off the main cabin lights, leaving only the essential controls illuminated.
The interior of the submarine dimmed instantly, but this reduction of internal light made the beams from the high-powered searchlight outside the porthole appear all the more vivid. The complex textures and features of the underwater cliff, now spotlighted even more intensely, came into sharper focus, enriching their understanding of the world that lay beyond the confines of their steel sanctuary.
“You speak of a world that’s hovering on the brink of despair, yet there’s a note of hope in your voice,” Agatha observed, her eyes narrowing slightly as if grappling with a paradox. “It’s an intriguing comparison that confounds me.”
Duncan paused before responding, his demeanor relaxed yet thoughtful. “I describe a world tinged with despair because that’s the unvarnished truth of our existence. Yet, I remain hopeful because that’s intrinsic to my being. While we may not have the power to transform the world, we do have the ability to master our own attitude towards it.”
Agatha looked at him, her facial expression softening into a warm, subtle smile. “I didn’t expect such philosophical depth and emotional sensitivity from you,” she admitted. “Sometimes, I forget you were once hailed as the world’s most renowned explorer.”
Duncan simply chuckled at her comment, his gaze drifting back to the porthole window. The underwater cliff—illuminated by the submarine’s powerful searchlight—gradually emerged from the darkness. It had a texture resembling stone, punctuated by patches of growth that appeared to be sea flora, perhaps coral or some parasitic form of underwater plant life. But what struck him was the uniformity of the “base” of the cliff—a feature that seemed too regular to be a mere product of nature.
With a deft hand on the controls, Duncan piloted the submarine closer to the anomaly, stopping when they were just a stone’s throw away from the mysterious formation. Then, with a slightly awkward fumble, he located a particular lever on the control console and activated the mechanical arm affixed to the submarine’s front.
Under the spotlight, the mechanical appendage unfolded slowly, its pointed end making contact with the cliff. A gentle scraping motion followed, and fragments of the formation began to drift in the water. Amidst this floating debris, however, Duncan noticed a more solid, perhaps even artificial, structure hidden within.
Breaking the lingering silence, Duncan suddenly posed a question, “You know, it’s been bothering me for quite some time. Throughout history, numerous deep excavation projects have been undertaken across various city-states—for mining, for constructing subterranean facilities, or simply for the sake of scientific inquiry. Has no one ever punctured this ‘base’ layer?”
Agatha was momentarily taken aback by the abrupt query. After collecting her thoughts, she shook her head and began, “As far as my knowledge extends, there hasn’t been a single instance of ‘breaking through’ this base layer. The world beneath our feet is a perilous place—dark, unpredictable, and rife with anomalies. Despite the safeguards of advanced technology like steam-driven machinery and flame barriers, workers in these deep excavation sites face psychological trauma and inexplicable accidents on an annual basis. The notion of drilling through an entire city-state seems not just reckless but foolhardy.”
She took another moment to gather her thoughts before adding, “And for those audacious enough to defy the odds and drill deeper, it seems they’ve always met with failure. The Academy of Truth, known for its relentless pursuit of knowledge, once spearheaded such an endeavor. However, they discovered that after reaching a certain depth, progress becomes agonizingly slow, until even the most advanced, hardened drill bits eventually shatter, unable to penetrate any further.”
As she concluded, both of them pondered the implications, staring at the enigmatic formation before them as if it held the answers to the questions that hung heavily in the cabin’s confined space.
“The resistance increases as you go deeper?” Duncan pondered aloud, his eyes fixed on the mechanical arm visible through the porthole. It had succeeded in dislodging some of the exterior material, revealing a denser, darker substrate below. The dislodged fragments floated away in the water, exposing a structure that was more solid and enigmatic than initially perceived.
The composition of this newly revealed layer was ambiguous—was it rock, metal, or something else entirely? Intriguingly, the surface exhibited a pattern of regular grooves that reminded him of the texture found on certain marine creatures’ skin or perhaps even armor.
Eager to examine the mysterious substance further, Duncan manipulated the submarine’s mechanical arm in an attempt to obtain a sample. Despite multiple tries, he met with no success. It was as if the material defied extraction. The mechanical arm, although designed for strength and versatility, was unable to make even a scratch on the unexpectedly resilient surface. Was this some sort of “base shell” or an armor that guarded whatever lay beneath?
Various theories began swirling in Duncan’s head, some even involving audacious exploration plans. However, he eventually reigned in his curiosity, remembering the primary objective of this expedition—investigating the “massive unknown entity” lying underneath the Frost city-state. With no certainty of when—or if—he would get another chance at such a deep-sea expedition, it seemed imprudent to squander precious time on a speculative detour.
A distinct sound from the submarine’s ballast tanks filled the cabin as the vessel continued its descent. Time became indistinct as they moved farther away from the city-state’s base and its enveloping cliff.
Quite suddenly, the area illuminated by the submarine’s powerful searchlight came to an abrupt end. The beam that once revealed the mysterious cliff was now swallowed by an encompassing darkness, leaving only an infinite expanse of ocean stretching out before them. Even the most potent searchlight couldn’t find anything else to reveal in this enormous void. The only thing Duncan could see was a faint beam extending outward from the submarine’s window—disconnected from any point of reference, either within or beyond its luminescent reach.
The feeling of descending into this massive, unyielding darkness was exponentially more unsettling than any deep-mine void Duncan had previously encountered. It was a different magnitude of isolation and incomprehensibility.
Agatha, sharing in the unnerving sensation, clutched the handrail in front of her, her knuckles whitening with a hint of tension. Whatever illumination had lingered within her “field of vision” had been consumed, leaving both explorers adrift in an all-encompassing sea of darkness, confronted by the very mysteries they had set out to understand.
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