The Light at the Bottom of the World

by London Shah

  On the way here we stopped off at the Marathon Committee’s offices at Westminster. All top-five ranking contestants took pictures with the PM as he formally handed over the documents and any keys to our prizes. As I’m champion, a tidy sum of money was also transferred to my account. The PM asked us all to be responsible with our newfound fame and prizes. I wanted to ask him why the Metropolitan Police have been lying to me all this time about my papa’s arrest. And why his own personal guards took my papa away. I didn’t ask him anything, though; I can’t risk attracting even more attention.

  Sounds—drilling, cutting, motors of all kinds, people instructing and reporting—echo in every direction. An army of robots hovers over the arsenal of vehicles, maintaining and inspecting them.

  “So chuffed you won!” The mechanic shouts to be heard over the din as he continues to guide us. “Second-place’s maneuver was nasty at the end there!”

  The twins walk quietly beside me. I alerted them to the robbery last night. We’ve agreed to discuss it later at the flat, away from prying eyes.

  My Bracelet has been flashing all morning. Among the messages of congratulations, Grandpa is worried about me. I canceled the visit from the police, telling them I was mistaken. They’re the last people I want near me now.

  Theo whistles as he looks around the space. Tabby grabs one of the beams that pass under the balcony above us. Metal structures form staircases and balconies all around the sides of the place. Tabs swings gracefully, landing nimbly on her feet. The camera makes sure to capture her.

  The mechanic beams and gestures my presence with heavily ringed hands. “Can’t believe you’re here in person. Sorry, don’t mean to creep you out or anything, but you’re one awesome racer!”

  I grin and check on Jojo. The puppy was only allowed entry on condition she’s kept in her travel box.

  A commotion in the far corner catches our attention. Cameras and a group of cheering people surround a woman who’s posing for pictures against a bulky white sub that looks like an enormous beluga whale. Deathstar whistles and claps in its direction.

  He turns to us, eyes shining. “A returning Explorer!” he explains. “Can you believe it? These people risk their lives to ensure we’ll be able to survive on the surface soon. Amazing!”

  I’m filled at once with dread. I wonder where she’s been, what horrors she’s seen.

  We walk on and I move closer to the mechanic. “So, Mr. Deathstar.” I lower my voice. “Is the sub working? I mean, can—”

  He stops, his hand hovering in my face. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, Sunshine.

  ‘Is it working?’ ” His eyes widen and his tattooed face breaks out in laughter. The rings in his nose and up the sides of his earlobes jingle. “Of course she’s working. What do you think I’ve been up to this last year? She might not be a naval vessel, but she’s sturdy, all right. You can’t do better than a DeepFlight sub, best on the planet. And never let it be said that Deathstar doesn’t take care of his beauties! Oh, and it’s just Deathstar, no need for the Mr.” He pauses, gesturing toward himself. “Kind of ruins it a bit, don’t you think?” He secures the ponytail hanging down his back and carries on walking.

  Vessels of all kinds are lined up like mammoth bullets. If only I could touch them.

  “She’s almost twenty-five, your baby,” Deathstar says. “A seventies Wright MIK twenty-one. A vintage beauty.”

  We turn left onto another walkway and the mechanic pauses, whistling as he gestures ahead.

  I gasp. Everyone stops and stares at the sight.

  “A real gem and according to some, designed by Adam Wright himself,” Deathstar offers in hushed tones.

  I open my mouth, but no words come out. Oh my God.

  The submarine is massive. Its matte surface is gunmetal gray, a single row of circular viewports dots its middle, and the entire tip is wrapped top to bottom in transparent acrylic. I better not be dreaming. I turn to the twins; they’re watching my reaction. We all break into spontaneous grins. My mind races, but now’s not the time to voice any of it.

  “Wow,” I finally say. I spin around to the mechanic. “Deathstar, tell us everything!”

  His face lights up and he claps his hands as he launches into the specifications while Theo hangs on every word, mesmerized.

  “Thirty-five meters, two-story—though you have a little surprise on the top. Ten leagues, twelve in small bursts, brand-new reactor . . .”

  Once he’s relayed the general details, I walk the length of the vehicle. I move as far back as possible in order to take the colossal vessel in, from the four rudders and propeller at the tail end, to its smooth bow at the front. On the very top, its substantial fin is seriously impressive. The whole thing looks so bloody magnificent. Papa will love it!

  I hurry back to the mechanic, who’s still sharing specs with a captivated Theo. Once I’ve touched the craft, it will be real.

  “I want to go inside,” I plead. “When can we go inside?”

  “She wants to touch everything.” Theo grins. “Leyla has to know how it feels.”

  “Just waiting for them.” The mechanic nods in the direction of several people carrying papers and gadgets of all sorts, all headed for the gangway leading to the top of the vessel. “Sorry, can’t spend too long touring her this morning, what with all the paperwork and other official stuff that wants doing. You can pop in anytime to visit her, though.”

  The group beckons us to follow. We all enter the submarine.

  Warmth flushes my face and my lips part when I stand inside the passageway. How can the place feel so familiar? No detailing of the craft’s interior resembles anything I’ve ever experienced before. Yet the space welcomes us, embraces us. Blimey, it’s the total opposite of my own building’s corridor! I hold the travel box carrying Jojo up so she can see.

  “Can I take her out now please? I won’t let go of her.”

  Deathstar agrees and Jojo is soon in my arms, peering around, mystified.

  The officials head downstairs for the control room where they’ll wait for us.

  The mechanic guides us along the narrow passageway. Pipes of all sizes run along its length. Despite its industrial appearance, it’s a homey space—a mixture of copper, steel, bronze, and iron, and cozy hues of mustard yellow, browns, and reds. My mouth curves into a wide smile as I crane my neck in every direction.

  “Tanks, the fresh water system,” the mechanic continues as he points out what lies behind each door. The doors themselves are walnut, several inches thick, and round at the corners. “Storerooms. Galley’s next, hopefully with everything you’d need, but can’t stop right now, I’m afraid.”

  The floating camera whizzes away in the spaces around us.

  We approach the wide pair of doors at the tip of the craft. All doorframes have a small security monitor fixed to them, and I can assign clearance procedures to any room I wish, Deathstar explains.

  “And up front we have the saloon, of course.”

  The doors slide open and we all inhale at once.

  The living quarters are open and cozy—a world away from my boxy, cold flat. Fixed furniture, a warm cherry wood that matches the floors, is dotted around. There’s plush violet seating to the left of the room; I push my hands down on the deep seats and laugh. All around, muted greens, yellows, coral, and burgundy dominate in the upholstery. The walls are a dusky assortment of color.

  It’s a lush and heartening space. I sigh. It’s beyond perfect. Papa will think so, too.

  The translucent tip creates a huge viewport that makes up the entire nose of the vessel. Intricate detailing has fashioned large, magnificent arches on the see-through acrylic. Wow.

  “Same view downstairs, miss. Control room’s directly below us,” calls out the mechanic.

  Built into the wooden wall cabinets by the seating area is an absolute rocking multimedia and communications system. Several antique framed pictures hang beside it, and charming accessories are dotted all around. A lavender armchair stands
by bookcases—one of which remains stocked with the previous owner’s private book collection. I can’t believe it.

  I’ve spent forever getting told off for opening books at the London Markets just so I can smell that addictive smell. Antiques—and books especially—are far too expensive to ever hope to buy. But now I can sit in the lavish chair taking in the dreamy scent of pages from my own books, and Papa will stand in the tip of the vessel, gazing out. I glance around and sigh.

  “Batteries under there.” Deathstar points to a hatch in the floor. “Not to worry, though, the Navigator knows where everything’s stored. That reminds me, they’re waiting for us. Need to press on! There’s another storage area, a room for any crew and staff, two small-scale bathrooms, two compact bedrooms, and the main bedroom,” the mechanic explains as we move on. “But I’m afraid there’s no time to inspect any of them now.” He brightens as if he’s suddenly remembered something. “I think we can quickly squeeze in one of its surprises, though!”

  The twins and I exchange quizzical expressions, grinning. Deathstar winks and points to a twisty staircase that leads even higher. I climb the stairs. Though there are only a few, they wind out of sight.

  I turn the corner and a platform comes into view. It’s enclosed by a clear dome all around and above it, allowing a 360-degree view of the surroundings. Oh wow. A tiny room at the top! There isn’t enough height to stand, but two or three people can sit, watching the world go by.

  The mechanic calls out. “Sorry, but they’re becoming restless, must go.”

  We climb down the winding iron-and-maple-wood staircase to the lower level.

  Deathstar points left. “That way’s the reactor and the engine room. Triple backup systems, I’ll have you know.” He beams as we hang on to every word. “Plenty of time to learn all about that later, and now this way.”

  Theo pauses beside a door with a window and whistles. “It has its own airtight chamber? Yes. Leyla, you have your own moon pool!” He punches the air.

  I can’t believe it. I peek through the window. It’s a wide room, quite bare and sleek. Robotic equipment is attached to the ceiling. On the floor in the center is a huge door covering the moon pool. Once the room is pressurized with enough air, the door to the pool can be opened onto the ocean remotely, with the greater pressure inside stopping the water from getting in. Submersibles will be free to enter and exit the submarine. I shudder at the thought of descending into the wild through the opening.

  “That’s right,” the mechanic confirms. “Not pressurized at the moment, though; it isn’t cost-effective unless she’s out there. Want me to set it up?” He turns to me, his eyebrows raised.

  I stop tracing the row of copper bolts around the edges of the doors and swallow before I speak. “Yes. Whatever you need to do to have the submarine fully operational.”

  Thank goodness for the prize money; I’ll need it all. I swiftly avert my gaze to protect my thoughts. It’s getting harder to keep them contained.

  “Understood. Right, your submersible’s having its last checkups and will need powering up before handover, but I can confirm it’s running smoothly.”

  I now have my very own submarine and nifty submersible. I’m dreaming!

  Deathstar briefly runs through the main changes he’s made renovating and updating the vessel. He’s an utter genius, and I tell him so. His face goes crimson against the silver piercings.

  “No worries, you earned it.” He beams. “You were something out there. And working on this beauty’s been a dream come true. Always wanted to buff up one of the Wrights, and the donor left a generous sum for the job. Okay, we need to head in.”

  The control room is at the end. The hovering camera isn’t allowed in.

  Theo whistles as we enter, his eyes shining, and runs over to the busy panels, checking the displays. I try and note as much as possible. It’s a sleek and uncluttered space. Dials of all kinds, flashing lights, buttons, LCD displays, phones, keyboards, speakers. All around us, another means to control everything about the vessel can be found. Theo spots a separate workstation in the far corner.

  “High-res forward-looking sonar, the very latest,” a technician busy testing a dial points out to him. “Gives a clear view ahead for at least a tenth of a league, sea conditions permitting, of course.” The dial she’s checking bleeps and she nods, satisfied, and moves on.

  The next few hours fly by. The onboard Medi-bot measures all my vitals and a health-monitoring chart is created. My DNA is taken and recorded along with iris scans and fingerprints, each result uploaded into the security system. I request the same be done for Jojo. I’m tested on my driving knowledge and offered a training program I can undertake anytime.

  An elderly official turns to me. “We now require your choice for

  Navigator. If you need any ideas, Winston Churchill, Hermione Granger, Spock, and Storm are currently trending,” he says. “And Captain Nemo and the twenty-fifth Doctor seem to be making yet another comeback.”

  Theo’s grin is wide, and he bounces from foot to foot. He lowers his voice. “I can merge Navigation duties with Housekeeping—kind of like a super-Housekeeper, if you want, Leyla?”

  No way! My very own Housekeeper? Wow. I’ve only ever had the standard Jeeves.

  I smile at them both. “I’d like you guys to choose my Navigator for me, please.”

  They brighten and huddle away from me, whispering. Reaching a swift conclusion, they write the name down for the officials and refuse to tell me.

  “We want it to be a surprise,” Theo insists.

  I fidget, beaming.

  “I shall begin updating the navigation system at once,” a technician assures me, and sets to work in the background.

  A bearded official waves his hand. “Miss McQueen, before the vessel deeds may be issued, we need a name for the vehicle. The previous one was deleted per the donor’s request. Again, should you find yourself at a loss for ideas, we can recommend several: the Victoriana, Waterloo, Nautilus—”

  “I know what I want to call it.” I scribble the name down and hand it to the man, who glances at the paper and narrows his eyes.

  “Are you certain? I mean, this isn’t even—”

  “Yes, no doubt about it.” I return the twins’ inquisitive looks with a mysterious smile.

  Finally we’re done with all legalities and necessities, including the official photographs of the handover. We make our way out of the vessel.

  “It’s bloody brilliant,” Theo says, nudging me and smiling. His face grows serious. “And don’t worry about your place or anything you lost, Leyla; we’ll soon have you sorted, all right? We need to make sure you’re really safe—both inside and out there. It’s madness.”

  I look at the twins, and then glance at the camera whizzing around us once more, waiting until it’s at a safe distance. I need to be extra careful. Theo and Tabby both raise their eyebrows and lean in.

  “It doesn’t matter,” I say, “about the state of the flat or anything else, really. Because as soon as the vessel’s ready, I’m leaving London to search for Papa.”

  “They were definitely looking for something specific in your files, too,” Theo says quietly. His brow is furrowed as he swiftly checks and then swipes away file after file on my far wall.

  Tabby and I fix our stares on him.

  “They searched everywhere,” he continues. “Your personal docs, public records, contacts, even your finances. They’re after something. And now we know more about your dad, it must be connected to his situation. Erm, and that’s not the worst part. The security override? It came from a governmental source. In Westminster.”

  The government. My hands and legs tremble, and my insides turn cold.

  Tabby shakes her head. “What the actual hell is going on? And whatever it is, surely you don’t need to leave London because of it? I don’t get it, Leyla. I mean you’ve always dreaded the thought of trav—”

  “Please, Tabs,” I say. “We’ve already gone through
all this. I’m definitely leaving to search for Papa. I’m going to ask Grandpa for help. I think he knows even more than he’s finally let on and I’m going to ask him to set me on the right course. He kept saying ‘we.’ They know Papa’s not in London; they might know more. It’s a start at least.”

  Theo looks wide-eyed at the destruction around the room. “You know I’ll back you on anything you decide, but traveling alone with Anthropoids out there . . .” His expression clouds over.

  “I know.” I move closer. “I can’t bear to even think about them—or any of the actual traveling beyond London part, really. But I’ve no choice. Papa’s not just arrested, but missing. And the government is involved somehow. They’re lying to us. I have the submarine now, so I can go search for him myself.”

  Tabby throws her hands up, her color pale. “Even if you do manage to find out where they’re keeping him—then what? Leyla, you think you can outmaneuver the Blackwatch?”

  “No. But I’ll finally know where he is and hopefully why, too. And then I’ll take it from there. Beats waiting around here.” I point to the chaotic lounge. “I’m not exactly safe here anymore, am I? I can’t search for Papa if I disappear, too.”

  “But this Ari guy you mentioned, he’s looking out for you now,” Tabby says.

  I shrug. “Didn’t stop the flat from being ransacked, though, did it?”

  “No.” Tabby sighs. “Imagine if you or Jojo had been at home. You could’ve been hurt. . . .”

  I sit on the cushionless sofa and hold my head in my hands. I wish I knew everything being kept from me.

  Theo shakes his head. “And now they’ve tried to access your private info. . . . I can kind of understand why your grandpa kept things from you for as long as possible. This is seriously messed-up stuff. Look, I’m going to send you a program soon as I get home. Activate it the second you get it, Leyla. Once it’s uploaded, with only a one-word command, your messages, files, everything can be deleted. I mean really gone. Trust me.”