The Light at the Bottom of the World

by London Shah

  Time for a warm drink. The galley is fabulous, bigger than the kitchen in the flat. Alder cabinets with copper handles fill the space, and bronze pipes run everywhere. Ancient styling hides the latest technology and gadgets. Just off the kitchen, plants hang from the ceiling on cords: my very own hydroponic garden!

  Back in the saloon I sip the hot chocolate as I check out the huge ornate bookcase full of books. My books now. I can smell and hide in those pages as often as I like. My smile widens. Inside each cover is a whole other world. And all of those worlds—strange and familiar, weird and wonderful—and all the different characters with their hopes and dreams and their adventures and quests are right here on this one bookcase. Magic.

  I grab a rolled-up picture of Papa and me; its frame was smashed in the robbery. It’s my fifth birthday in the photograph—my first without Mama. Papa tried to make it as special as he possibly could. I’m clutching a doll of a Swazi princess that I’d wanted for over a year. It was vintage and so it took Papa longer to save up for.

  I hang the picture on the wall, beside a ticking clock displaying a complicated clockwork system in a style I’ve never seen before. A thought dawns on me and I feel lighter.

  Just for once, for the first time since Papa’s been gone—and despite knowing his situation is graver than I first feared—a feeling of despair hasn’t followed a memory of him. At last I’m doing something concrete about his absence.

  I sit in the lavender armchair by the bookcase and review my updated journey out of London under the light and warmth of an elaborate bronze floor lamp. We’re almost over Canary Wharf, right on track. We drive on toward Belvedere and the indoor beach resort. The sooner the modification is sorted, the better.

  Jojo’s full of beans and keeps wandering off to explore, ignoring my calls. She’s even left half of her dinner, the daft thing. All the excitement is proving too much for her.

  The evening waters stretch endlessly on all sides. I move to the viewport, standing several feet back from the overwhelming windows. The choppy waves roll by, coursing around the bow as the Kabul plows through. It really is impossible to spot anything in the dark. The only illumination is from the solar spheres and the submarine’s fore light. I gulp; it’s like pushing through a vast nothingness, not knowing what you might encounter.

  If only the familiar, brilliant white light of the streetlamps somehow reflected up here as well. And how strange not to be confronted by the shadowy shapes of buildings towering above me. Some of the sea life is also different. The craft’s harsh lights captivate groups of vividly patterned fish. All the warnings about the unknown terrors of the deep surface; I shiver.

  Where’s Jojo, for goodness’ sake? I call out for the puppy and am met with a faint, happy bark from somewhere but no return. I summon Oscar instead.

  The Navigator appears in a fabulous number: a ruffled shirt and seriously decorative breeches. He pats his hair as if conscious of his appearance.

  “Any problems, Oscar?”

  “No problems, my dear. We are on course for the stopover at the Brighton Pier resort. Though authorities are present in the area, there are no reports yet of any possible obstruction to our trajectory. May I assist you with anything?”

  “Look at it,” I whisper.

  He joins me in observing the passing environment.

  “It’s—it’s quite scary, isn’t it?”

  He turns to me with a quizzical expression. “Why is the scene frightening to you?”

  “Well, when it’s too dark to see, just about anything could be hiding out there.”

  “My dear lady, the true mystery of the world is the visible, not the invisible.”

  His voice is whimsical; I like it. “But if you can see it, how can it remain a mystery? It’s visible, so you know what it is. How can that be as scary as not knowing? No, Oscar.” I shake my head slowly as I absorb the scene. “I can’t imagine anything worse than not knowing.”

  The submarine gives a slight heave; I tense. Food. That’s what I need.

  I take a plate of steaming Kabuli pulao back into the saloon along with a snack for Jojo, if the overexcited puppy ever decides to show up. Scattering two plush cushions from a pile at the side of the viewport, I sit cross-legged and tuck into the delicious rice and meat, its spicy saffron aroma taking over.

  Is it a good idea to eat a yummy meal while you peek out at a never-

  ending mass of water and imagine yourself sinking? Probably not. Virgos like to worry, Papa told me. They like keeping it real. Hmm, maybe not that bloody real, though. I avert my eyes.

  Rice flies from my mouth when Oscar appears beside me without warning. I must get used to that.

  “My dear lady, Belvedere approaches.”

  “Thank you, Oscar.”

  The vessel presses on. As I watch, something bobs into view in the distant light. It drifts into the sharper illumination alongside the vessel. What on earth is it? No. I jolt, crying out. My hand flies to my mouth, and a cold chill spreads inside.

  It’s a bloated corpse. It’s decaying; an adult, I’m sure. Hair fans out around their face, their mouth open and eyes fixed with a hollow stare. The harsh light of the vehicle compounds the already pitiful state. The body is tangled in ropes and a thin material: a homemade sail. My throat goes dry. The poor, poor person.

  They must have tried to survive on the surface.

  Since the planet’s transformation, there’ve been random and violent storms up there. Fatal waves wreck anything and everything. Even the engineers maintaining the solar panels and spheres, satellite dishes, and oxygen pipes wear protective clothing when visiting the surface. We’re safer down here. I don’t understand; why do some people risk everything to try and live up there before it’s safe enough for us to do so?

  The body meanders onward in the cold light spreading from the craft, rotating as it goes. It’s soon out of sight. An image of Papa unconscious at the labs flashes before me. An ache pulses in my chest. I head for the passageway, hugging myself.

  “Jojo!”

  I begin checking those rooms that allow instant access. The puppy’s muffled, content sounds carry up from the lower level. That muppet. I climb downstairs to more of Jojo’s familiar sounds. What on earth? They’re coming from the control room. It doesn’t make sense. How did Jojo access the room?

  I enter the control room. Jojo’s fine, thank goodness. She’s eating some kind of treat beside the sonar station. The puppy wags her tail in greeting.

  “Jojo? How’d you get in here? And where did you get that biscuit?”

  I glance around. Is there a second entrance point? Impossible.

  Something flits right on the edge of my vision. What the— My pulse quickens.

  Did I imagine it? No, I definitely saw something.

  I move past the communications board, making my way around the room. What the hell is going on? I hold my stomach, dragging my feet. Again, something catches the corner of my eye. My hands tremble; if only I had my brolly on me. I jerk, swinging my gaze to the right. My palms sweat. There’s nothing there.

  I turn the corner by a huge locker and jump, shrieking. My eyes wide and my mouth open, I freeze in position.

  Standing still, and with an unreadable expression in those fiery amber eyes, is Ari.

  “I don’t believe it. He actually put someone like you on board with me,” I say, pointing at Ari. “I can’t believe Grandpa would do this to me. I thought he’d sent you away!”

  His gaze flickers and he folds his arms across his chest. ‘ “Like me?” ’ he demands. His voice is low and husky.

  We’re still in the control room, going around in circles about the fact Gramps snuck him on board the submarine the day before. He’s the security measure Grandpa insisted on. Oh, how I regret my hasty promise! And thanks to the no-communication rule, I can’t even vent at anyone. Turning around is out of the question; it’s just begging to be noticed by the authorities.

  His eyes narrow, waiting for an answer. H
e runs his hand through his long, dark hair. Around his neck is a tiny beaded leather string, and a knife hangs from his waist. Why would he need a knife? I shudder; what does he think we’ll encounter out here? He’s wearing a black top and casual bottoms. Stop staring at him.

  “Yes, like you,” I say. I’m uncomfortable with him but realize it sounds pathetic. He’s definitely not Theo, though!

  He scowls and a muscle flexes by his mouth. “I promised Gideon Abraham I would protect you.” He speaks carefully and assuredly.

  “Except I can take care of myself!” I try to gather my thoughts. I’m stuck in a vessel with him. This is really happening. Jojo walks around his legs, wagging her tail. The little traitor. “Jojo? Come here, baby.” After several calls, the puppy finally walks over. I squint as I scoop her up. “What have you done to my dog?”

  He cocks a thick, dark eyebrow, and one corner of his mouth lifts ever so slightly. A faint twinkle appears in the coppery eyes. He’s laughing at me, the dick. “Jojo and I have got to know each other very well. She loves her biscuits.”

  Is he really taunting me with my own pet? Enough. I pace the room trying to think of a way out of the situation and come up with nothing. I look up and the stowaway’s watching me with an expression of distrust. He hid on board my property and I’m suspect?

  I narrow my eyes. “So you’ve been following me around to ‘protect’ me from others following me around? Don’t you have anything better to do?”

  He clenches his jaw. I recall Grandpa’s words about Ari’s own circumstances and regret implying he doesn’t have much else to do. And if he’s only here on his father’s orders, then it must be hell being somewhere you’re not wanted.

  But still, why did Gramps have to ask a total stranger to accompany me? And such an infuriating one . . . Oh my God, the twins—they knew! That’s why they were so awkward when I entered the vessel, hardly meeting my gaze. I think Theo was about to tell me when Tabby stopped him. I groan. Grandpa must’ve just told them what he’d done. They should have warned me!

  He saunters around the room, his movements fluid and easy. Everything about him is strong. His build, his shoulders and arms, his hands. His eyes are something else. Mesmerizingly bright and permanently suspicious. Oh my God, stop staring at him!

  I straighten. “There’s no need for you to do that,” I say, as he reads a dial.

  “I’m just checking engine status. I can’t command the sub, so there’s no need to be afraid. Gideon could only ensure security clearance for access.”

  Afraid? Is he for real? This stranger should not be here; it’s my sub. “I have no reason to be afraid; it’s not me hiding on board someone else’s vessel.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “Hiding? You would have discovered me sooner if you had been more alert.”

  Argh. Oscar appears. Ari stiffens and his hand moves faster than a sailfish for the knife around his waist, before it falls away.

  The Navigator tilts his head in my direction. “We are approaching the resort, my lady.”

  I turn to the maddening one. “Gramps told me you don’t have much choice, that you’re just doing this for your dad. But the second we get to King’s Lynn, you leave my sub.”

  “That’s fine by me. This is the very last place I want to be. My family needs me, too.”

  “I don’t need you. I can take care of myself. Anyone tries to stop me from finding my papa, they’ll be sorry they crossed my path. I haven’t just left without a sodding clue, you know. I can jolly well look after myself.”

  His face tightens. “You have no idea.”

  “Then tell me!”

  “I know what people are capable of. You can’t beat them.” His voice is low and resolute.

  “Beat who? You mean the Anthropoids?”

  He holds my gaze.

  “I might never encounter them,” I continue. “Anyway, I’m stronger than I look.”

  He’s about to say something but seems to change his mind and shakes his head. “They are without a single cell of humanity. I’ve seen what they’re capable of; you don’t want to know. You can’t reason with them.” His expression darkens as he pauses. His hands curl into fists, his bronze skin flushing. The briefest hint of fury glimmers in his eyes, like the simmer of magma in the volcanoes along ocean ridges. He takes a breath before continuing. “I’ve left my family for this. Do you understand that? My family. Nothing in my existence is of more importance to me than them. I have been given no choice in the matter, though; I must do this for my father. I’m here until you reach your grandfather’s place, and then I am done.”

  He turns his back on me and busies himself as the vessel starts descending.

  Grabbing Jojo, I only now notice the target board propped above some lockers. Several knives are embedded in its center. What the hell? I hasten out of the control room. Even if Grandpa does trust him completely, it’s seriously weird to have to share my space with someone I don’t even bloody know. I could just scream.

  The submarine gradually drops. Whoa. I rush back up to the viewport, gulping air to combat the slight heaving sensation. It’s very different to the diving motions of a submersible.

  Soon the vast white dome-shaped structure of Brighton Pier is visible. Lights pulse and beam, and shadows reign in the surrounding depths—security subs patrolling the area. The resort is always a popular New Year’s Eve destination for families and therefore a prime Anthropoid target.

  Ignoring the usual car parks, I find a submarine hatch on the side of the building; the Kabul’s bridge extends a few meters, docking at the resort. I’m used to submersibles connecting directly, and the bridge between the submarine and the building sends a tremor down my spine. Imagine passing through and something goes wrong?

  Security beams flash away outside. If the anti-tracking device weren’t so important, I wouldn’t have stopped at all.

  But with the threat of Captain Sebastian discovering my departure any moment, I need to ensure I remain as invisible as possible out here.

  Theo’s friend, Sam, is already waiting for me in the parking area. She’s wearing the resort’s familiar white T-shirt with Brighton Pier blazoned in blue across the image of an Old World pier. She holds her wrist up and her Bracelet confirms her identity.

  Her freckled face beams as she hoists a rucksack onto her back and chats away without pausing. “Is it true you’re going traveling? Theo said. You’ll never catch me going out there, far too dangerous with those beasts around. And— Oh, helloooooo.”

  I follow her gaze and frown. Ari’s left the sub to come and check on me, argh. I give him a dismissive wave. He scowls and stays hovering.

  “Phwoar. Who is he?”

  “What, nobody! I don’t even know him!”

  “Erm, he just exited your sub?”

  “Whatever. I honestly don’t even know him!”

  “Okaaaaay, then. Oh, congrats on the marathon! You rocked it! Oh my God I hate Paul Martin so much—didn’t even deserve his second place, really. He could’ve hurt you real bad if you’d not risen out of his way! Total shit.”

  “The biggest.” I grin. “Thanks. Hope you haven’t been waiting too long.” I brush past Ari, and he follows us inside the craft.

  “Just got off my shift actually—perfect timing!” Sam launches into questions about the vessel as she takes in her surroundings. “I’ll need the control room mostly, and then a few minutes in the engine room after. Whole thing shouldn’t take more than an hour. Can’t believe you have one of the old seventies Wrights.” Her face lights up on sighting the interior of the sub and she whistles. “She’s magnificent. German engineering, Japanese tech on all Wrights—nice.”

  My grin widens. It may as well be Theo standing before me. We make our way to the control room and Sam gets to work. Ari seems to have disappeared, thank God.

  I pace the room. I should just do it. I’m wasting time thinking about it. I have a whole hour. Why wait here when I could be at the beach? I needn’t be long—in and
out.

  Sam is engrossed in her work. “Navigator was right. It’s definitely the magnetic storm, messed with the tech. But I’ll have it fixed in no time.”

  Great, a quick visit and then I’ll be out of here. I inform Oscar and Sam, change, and exit the vessel for the beach.

  As I make my way to the center of the resort, there’s notice of another earthquake; Richmond Park in southwest London was hit this time. Hopefully nobody was caught up in it.

  The noise and music grow louder as I get closer to the resort itself. A quick ticket to the beach, and soon I’m gazing on the place where I spent several amazing days with Papa when he surprised me for my fourteenth birthday. Warmth spreads in my chest. I stand there a moment, taking it all in. It’s beyond fab.

  The largest leisure space in London, it’s as if the outdoor landscape goes on forever in every direction. You can’t tell where the distant scenery ends and the projections begin. I remove my shoes, digging my feet into the sand, and make my way along the beach. A little boy flashes me a toothless grin before returning to his sandcastle. I squint in the bright glare of the “sun.”

  The tranquil blue skies are busy. Kites fly, and doves and seagulls coo and squawk as they glide through the air. I hold my arms out, the rare hot air heavenly. My skin tingles.

  What must it have been like to have different seasons and weather in the world? To have varying temperatures, sights, and smells. To feel the wind on your face, a raindrop on your head, hold out your hand to catch a snowflake and watch it melt in your palm. What had it felt like?

  Music and singing carry over from a brightly lit bandstand as I walk past. Huge, twisting slides are in full use, and in the far distance, holiday goers climb the gray rock faces. The merry-go-round flickers bright orange, red, and yellow as both adults and children ride the donkeys around and around.

  I face the vivid aqua waters. If only the real thing were as translucent. Imagine being able to do it all: explore the depths of the water, swim on its surface, and then when you were done, move onto the land and look up at the sky. Old Worlders had been able to do all that. So many worlds in one. Is that why people will do anything to return to the surface? I guess Deathstar’s right; the Explorers are amazing, risking their lives to find ways for us to have that again. I really shouldn’t complain so much about the hefty monthly installments.