The Technologies of God- A Serial Micro-Fiction 11/24

in Writing Club3 years ago (edited)

From the peak of the wave, I can see the silhouette of the Orb against the darkening sky. The blood-red sun is faint and hangs just above the horizon, where dark clouds have begun to gather. On the ship’s geodesic panels, the lights blink on and off in the purple twilight.

Our submersible craft- a dolphin x-32- begins its smooth descent down a wave, then up another again, adrift in the Caribbean currents.

“I see steam,” Sarah says, adjusting the lenses on her goggles. Mixed reality. Military grade, which makes me wonder where she got them. On the other hand, I probably don’t want to find out.

“If they’re venting, then we’ll launch tonight or early morning,” I say.

“I hope so. The last thing I want to do is spend the night sneaking around like a rat.”

“We’ll have to do that anyway even if we launch. It’s a three-day trip to the L-Point.”

“Yes, but at least I’ll be a space rat.”

She shakes her head and zooms in the horizon.

“A storm is brewing,” she says.

“The Orb ships are weather proof, so I don’t think they’ll suspend the launch.”

Water splashes on the dolphin’s acrylic domes. In the two-person craft, things get quite tight. Fortunately, Sarah has a lithe figure and takes up little room. Useful when you’re a pilot, and likely one of the reasons she was chosen for the program. I don’t let her diminutive size fool me, however, she’s quite capable of handling herself with an arsenal of weapons.

The shadows grow long on the sea. I can now see the drone seaport seesawing in the waves. We’ve been drifting and shadowing the platform for nearly an hour. It finally stopped moving a few minutes ago. On its launch pad, the Orb glitters and vents great bellows of steam.

“So you haven’t told me about Tattiana,” Sarah says, popping her pink bubblegum.

I shrug and look at the stars.

“She’s just an android,” I tell her. “There is nothing to say really.”

“O ya? Well, did she have a nice ass?”

“I didn’t notice.”

“Ha! Liar! Don’t tell me that you didn’t check her out. What about the Bardo of re-entry? Elliot and I had a lot of fun then.”

“It was all in your mind. Just the neurochemical effects of the k-twenty-three.”

Neurochemical effects? Listen to yourself. You’re starting to sound like them.”

The Orb looms closer, reflecting the rays of the dying sun.

“What about your lovely wife?” Sarah says.

I roll my eyes. “Could we just get back to navigating and making sure we don’t drown?”

“Oh come on,” she insists, “didn’t she want to come along?”

“Getting smuggled into space wasn’t her idea of fun. Irreconcilable differences some call it.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I liked her. She was cute. Landlocked in her ways though. Some women just don’t understand that space babies is the way to go. I told you they wouldn’t understand. It’s true what they say, you can’t go home again. Our mates and loved ones will never catch up to our butterfly drift. Our stay in that station fucked us up, and once you go whack you can’t go back. But don’t worry. We’ll find out who’s behind all this, and we’ll fuck them up.”

“I don’t want to fuck anybody up,” I say. “I just want answers.”

“Either way, we’ll find those assholes.”

“What about your buddy in the seaport? Is he going to come through?”

“He’s solid. No worries. Hawking people into space is his biz, and no one wants a bad rep.”

The craft beeps twice.

“What’s that?” I say.

“Just a warning that we’re within range of security sensors. We’ll dive now.”

The navigation interface glows brighter on the acrylic dome. Sarah taps it, and the craft begins to hum.

“Hold on to your butt!” she shouts.

The sky disappears as the dolphin submerges beneath the roiling waves. Oxygen bubbles float up to the surface. Swiftly, the dim light turns to darkness. I can only hear the pinging echoes of the sonar- like a creature calling out in the submarine silence.

TheGatheringStorm_litguru_med.jpg
The Gathering Storm by @litguru

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Part 7
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Part 9