Daughter of the Deep(50)

She launches into a detailed analysis of nemonium’s tensile strength, malleability and density that I’m sure several people in the world could understand, one of them being Nelinha. Meanwhile, I turn to Ester and whisper, ‘You okay?’

She chews her thumb. I resist the urge to pull her hand away from her mouth.

‘Just be careful inside,’ she says. ‘I think it would help if you talk to it first.’

I’m not sure I understand her. One of the problems with being multilingual is that sometimes you second-guess yourself about the meanings of words. Did Ester say talk to it? Isn’t it a neutral pronoun in English? Isn’t that the language we’re speaking?

I start to say, ‘Talk to –?’

‘Ana,’ Ophelia interrupts. ‘Would you do the honours?’

She gestures to the vault door. It has a massive round gear plate in the middle, with pistons radiating outwards like the spokes of a ship’s wheel. In the centre of the gear plate, where the wheel’s spindle hole would be, is a hemisphere of nemonium, the same size as the DNA-reader I used on Dr Hewett’s nautical map.

‘Me?’ I ask, as if she might be talking to some other Ana.

‘Well, I could do it.’ From her pocket, Ophelia fishes what looks like a metal security card. ‘We were able to jury-rig the lock after your father first opened it. But since it’s already keyed to your DNA …’

She waits. I don’t know if she’s testing me or letting me test myself. I think about the unpleasantly warm electrical current that went up my arm the last time I touched a Nemo DNA-reader. Then I think about my dream of drowning – the hopeless feeling of terror as Dev reached out for me and seawater filled my lungs. I am the last Dakkar.

I press my hand against the spindle-wheel lock. The metal doesn’t shock me. The central plate rotates. Pistons retract. Air hisses around the edges of the door like I’ve broken a vacuum seal. The door itself doesn’t move, but I suspect that if I pushed it now, it would swing open easily.

Ophelia raises her hand in caution. ‘Before we proceed … Please remain calm when we get inside. It’s best to avoid sudden movements and loud noises. Especially you, Ana. Approaching the Nautilus should be quite safe. Luca and I are in and out of this cavern on a daily basis, and we’ve had no mishaps.’

Mishaps. The term seems like quite an egregious understatement, considering my parents died because of the Nautilus.

‘But you’re still worried,’ I note. ‘Because I’m the first Dakkar to approach the sub since … since the accident.’

Ophelia’s barbed-wire braids glisten in the dim light. ‘We’ve been working for two years to clean and repair the submarine’s systems as best we could.’

‘Hold on,’ Nelinha says. ‘You’ve been on board? It’s still got systems left to clean?’

‘It’s easiest to show you,’ Ophelia says. ‘Most of the sub’s higher functions are dormant because … well, operating them requires a living Dakkar. What happened with Tarun and Sita was most likely a malfunction, a misunderstanding. Still, we can’t be sure –’

‘A misunderstanding?’ I don’t mean to shout, but she’s talking about my parents’ deaths. I don’t feel like remaining calm.

Ophelia grimaces. She faces Ester.

‘Would you like to explain, my dear?’ Ophelia says. ‘I can tell you’ve figured it out.’

Ester picks at her blouse. ‘Ana, like I said, your parents’ death wasn’t an accident. The submarine killed them. I’m so sorry.’

My legs turn wobbly. ‘You make it sound like it was on purpose.’

‘It must have been angry,’ Ester says. ‘It had been sitting at the bottom of the ocean for a hundred and fifty years. Nemo abandoned it.’

‘Nemo died inside it,’ Ophelia says grimly.

‘Even worse,’ Ester says. ‘It didn’t have anyone to maintain its systems.’

‘Angry?’ I still refuse to understand. ‘Abandoned? How can a sub feel …?’

Dread washes over me. Some things I just do not want to realize, even when all the evidence is right there in front of me. ‘No,’ I say. ‘You can’t be serious.’

‘Yes, my dear,’ Ophelia says. ‘Nemo created a prototype of what we would call AI, artificial intelligence. The Nautilus is alive.’





My whole life has led to this moment.

My parents sacrificed everything. I lost my school and my brother. My classmates risked their lives to cross the Pacific Ocean. Generations of Dakkars, Hardings and other HP graduates have lifted me onto their shoulders, living and dying in the expectation that someday a descendant of Nemo might once again board his submarine.

And all I want to do is run away.

When you dive, you learn to equalize pressure in your ear canals by pinching your nose and gently puffing air into your sinuses. The deeper you go, the more you need to do it. Otherwise your head starts to feel like a can of soda in the freezer. (Hint: never put a can of soda in the freezer.)

I wish there was a way to equalize my brain emotionally. I keep getting deeper and deeper. The pressure keeps getting worse. I can’t just pinch my nose and adapt to each new level of misery.

First, I believed my parents died in an accident. Then I was told they died recovering a priceless scientific artefact. Now I’m informed that this artefact is a living thing, and it killed my parents – maybe on purpose, maybe not. Gee, we really don’t know.