Beneath These Waves

Chapter One

It's supposed to be a normal day.

Mystical and mysterious to anyone else, perhaps, but to me, it seems repetitive and mundane. It's been so long since something interesting has happened that all of my interesting memories have been more or less forgotten- when Cal recorded a new variant of parrotfish, when Ser made me a seventeenth birthday cake out of rations and kelp, when there had been a bloom of bioluminescent bacteria and the metal insides of the sub had been washed in pale light for weeks- they're gone, replaced by an icy blur of dark blue water.

All of that shatters with the piercing ring of Cal's voice.

"Dell! I think something's wrong with Dad!"

Cal's always been the announcer of minor misfortunes in the family. She seems to be in the area anytime something less than ideal occurs. She rarely ever causes it, but you can depend on her to be right there to announce whatever's happened, whether it's a stack of plates bursting out of one of the undersized cupboards in our undersized kitchen or Ser getting trapped in a sweater that she's grown too big for.

"I'm busy, remember?" I shout back. Cal knows this, we've all memorized the schedule that makes sure this place runs without flaws. I won't be done with my shift for two more hours. There isn't much to do, I could keep the sub on autopilot almost constantly if I wanted to, but sitting here gives me purpose.

Cal's voice is quieter this time, I have to lean my head backwards a bit to make out the cut of her words clearly. "No... I think this is serious. Come here. Just for one second."

"Fine." If she's this worried, I shouldn't put up a fight. And really, all it takes is the flick of a switch and the tap of a button to allow me to get up. My back aches in slivers and tendrils as I swivel the command chair so it faces outward and sets me free, but the pain subsides after I fully stand.

Sometimes I sit for so long I forget how to move, or even how to feel. You know that sensation you get when your foot falls asleep? When it's coursing through your entire body, it equates to nothingness. Sometimes the only thing that snaps me out of the state is Dad and Ser's combined effort of lifting me out of the chair.

I stalk down the hall. I shouldn't be annoyed, I needed the break. But my feet hit the floor a little harder than they should, and my arms are stiff at my sides.

I think Cal, and presumably Dad, are in Dad's sleeping quarters, one of the furthest rooms in the back. The room is more isolated from the others, and twice as big.

The hall angles and twists a few times, more for aesthetic reasons than practical ones. I walk by Cal and I's closed doors, metal blending into metal, and pause at Ser's open one.

Ser's sitting on her bed, a thin blanket thrown over her lower half, back turned completely to me. I wait in the doorway, catching my breath, waiting for her to notice me.

Eventually I give up and let a single cough slip from my throat. Ser flips her head around, a flurry of loose brown hair that she refuses to wear in a ponytail, and for a moment, I catch a glance at the unmarked notebook she frantically slams shut. The sound echoes through the metal walls for a solid fifteen seconds.

"...hey, Dell." she squeaks, gathering her hair in her hand and flipping it over her shoulder. On the edge of my vision, I see her shove the journal underneath the blanket. I won't ask about it. Knowing her, it's probably nothing. Just some insignificant scribbles or sentences she's keeping tucked away because she wants to feel like she has a secret.

We all have secrets, it's woven into our family dynamic. The more, the better. If they were physical things, they'd be pearls and pebbles and gemstones shoved away in a drawer, on the verge of spilling out.