To Breach the Darkness

"Yeah, man, it'll be amazing. Totally safe, I guarantee it. Look. We've had this thing tested at 13,000 feet. Autonomously, of course. It's fine." Chris raked a hand through his hair as he waited for his colleague to make up his mind.

"You sure? I mean, I can afford it; I just don't wanna pay with my life, you know?" the person on the other end of the phone asked.

"Promise. It's all good! We'll go down—you, me, a couple others—and just see what we can see, you know? It'll be fine."

"Alright, fine. I'll have Chet wire you the money."

"Excellent! Have your guy bring you here; we'll leave from my helipad and go to the docks from here."

"Alright. See you tomorrow, Chris."

"See ya, Jeff."

Chris hung up the phone and grinned. To his right was his latest toy—a small submersible capable of withstanding crushing depths for hours at a time, currently docked at his high security facility in Nassau. He'd hired the best engineers to design and test it—after what happened to the Titan, he didn't want to take chances. He loved a good risk, but had learned a thing or two about the submersible that had imploded a few years back. Only the best for his ride.

It hadn't been cheap, but he hoped it would be worth it. Hell, if his prototype worked the way he wanted, he could make a few more and sell them to other entrepreneurial spirits like himself. Surely there were others out there who'd love to explore the depths like he did.

Chris had grown up in Hawaii, and had learned to swim when he was just a small child. Snorkeling in the small inlet in his backyard had been a form of exercise and stress relief, and the things he saw in the waters below fascinated him. Eventually, he learned to scuba dive, and ran his own diving venture. He'd take anyone diving with him—photographers, marine biologists, treasure hunters, tourists, you name it. He quickly expanded his operation throughout the South Pacific and then into the Caribbean. When the opportunity came to purchase an estate on a private island in the Bahamas, Chris took it in a heartbeat.

This submersible—the Charybdis—would hopefully revolutionize the industry. If this dive was successful, he could make billions selling this model and successive iterations to other wealthy and curious movers and shakers like himself. All signs pointed to go, and Chris was ready.

The next morning dawned bright and clear with peaceful skies and calm waters. Chris sauntered outside to his helipad to meet his three colleagues who were all standing around chatting quietly with each other, the three visiting helicopters powered down and waiting off to the side in a loose row. The air zinged with nervous excitement as Chris shook each of their hands with a smile, patted their shoulders, and motioned for everyone to climb inside his waiting Porsche Cayenne.

He smiled listening to their conversations as he drove them to the docks where the Charbydis waited. Each man was wondering the same thing: how far would they descend, what would they see, would they see any shipwrecks or cool fish, and most importantly, would they survive?

Once they reached the docks, Chris led the way to where the Charybdis was moored at the end of a long pier. After a quick safety speech along the lines of, "don't touch this, don't move that, and for heaven's sake, don't EVER do this other thing," they all piled inside the submersible. Chris closed and secured the hatch as one of his staff untied the mooring line.

Chris expertly maneuvered the submersible into open water and they began their descent. The clear waters of the Caribbean allowed the men a beautiful view of passing schools of fish, their scales flashing and sparkling as the sun hit them. A sea turtle swam past, barely registering the craft.