The White Singularity: A Choose Your Own Adventure

Chapter 12: Shelter Within the Crevice

The anomaly reveals itself as a gaping, seemingly bottomless gash on the trench floor, just large enough to swallow the Singularity without scraping the walls. With the active sensors pinging away furiously to assist NESCA in the delicate maneuvering, you cautiously navigate through the opening and under a small overhang, narrowly avoiding a large boulder that drops precisely where you were just seconds ago.  Had you remained in the middle of the ravine, survival would have been almost impossible.  

The two of you look up silently at the tiny opening above you, hoping you won't need to descend further. It's too dangerous to leave anytime soon—debris is still bouncing and careening everywhere. There's a substantial chance that at least one of them will find you.  You have no choice but to wait the earthquake out. 

Abruptly, the decision is made for you. A rock almost the size of the ship itself rolls into the crevice, effectively sealing you in. You listen in dismay as even more boulders pile on top of it.  You might have tried lifting them out of the way with your engines on full if you hadn't been damaged earlier, but now, it's too risky to try that.  The strain would probably just cause your generators to explode.  

With your escape route blocked, your only path is downwards, into the unknown.  It could be a blind tunnel, for all you know.  You can't discern from here, even with the active sensors on. There's only one way to find out.    

In the heavy silence, Zell meets your eyes and nods, a silent agreement passing between you. You adjust the ballast, and the ship begins its descent.

36,000 feet.

You turn on the tachyon emitters for a 10-second SOS burst, rapidly explaining your plight to the ground crew. You're not sure what they can do for you, as your company doesn't have a second submersible that can go down this far, but at least they'll know you're still alive despite what just happened.

Down.

40,000 feet.

You turn off all the systems except life-support, the passive sensors, and the lights. You need to conserve as much energy as possible.

Down. As far as you can tell, nothing is underneath you but water.  This deep in the ocean, there's absolutely nothing moving.  All signs of life have vanished.  

43,000 feet.

The hole seems to go on and on. You ask NESCA how much deeper you can go with the damaged porthole. The initial limit was an astounding 70,000 feet of water, but that must have changed significantly. When the answer comes back, it's just as you've feared. You can only go down to 51,000 feet before the synthetic diamond portholes can no longer take the strain. You don't want to think about what you'll do once you've reached that limit, with no escape in sight.

46,000 feet. It's getting distinctly chillier. Sid goes to one corner of the cabin and presses a button. A section of the wall unfolds to reveal two bunks, one on top of the other. She gets a thick comforter from a small closet and bundles herself in the bottom bunk in a fetal position. You watch her, unsure of what she's thinking or feeling. Is she giving up? Tired? Numb? Within a surprisingly few minutes, her breathing becomes slow and even. 

 She has fallen asleep.

48,000 feet. For some reason, you're finding it harder to breathe. You don't know if it's the deepening cold or because the increasing pressure outside is causing the air in your lungs to congeal. 

 Wearily, like an old, old man, you stumble over to your wife and lie down beside her under the comforter.  The soft pillow under your head feels so good. You fall asleep in seconds, unsure if you'll ever wake up again. 

PROCEED TO CHAPTER 13.