Those Who Leave the Light

This ship can never sink. It's 10'000-year history all but proves it.

There are some anxious, ill-read things aboard who mutter otherwise, but they dwell down in the engine cabins. Such stupid things to choose that life- if only they had the sense to live in the sun, then they'd see that this ship is far too pleasant to sink.

Here on the upper decks the sun shines on the clear pool, and the residents lounge to the gentle sound of the vast ocean.

No clouds in sight, no stormy night, just pure delight.

"Excuse me, sir," a hand touches my shoulder to accompany the light voice of the young server, "Would you like another drink?" Her fingers trace down my arm as I turn to face her.

"Please," I say, "A gimlet."

She gives my forearm a light squeeze, then turns to the drink cart behind her. Her form is quite pleasing.

"A Gimlet," She says to the young man pushing the cart. My eyes drift to him as I admire the views. The young woman turns with the drink,

"Your drink, sir," She says, allowing her hair to brush my shoulder.

"Thank you," I say. I'm warm with satisfaction as I watch them leave. Here the sun shines and the staff are young and beautiful. I close my eyes in the sun. This pleasant ship has sailed 10'000 years, and it will surely sail 10'000 more.

I'm startled awake by a commotion.

I can't make out the shouting but I see a pair of crewmen carrying a struggling... person? No, one of the senseless things from the lower decks. The poor thing looks incredibly dirty, barely a person though it's shaped like one. I stretch and reach for my gimlet, watching as the crewmen take the dirty thing to the railing. If only it had the intelligence to be born to the upper decks, it wouldn't have to be thrown out.

The crewmen turn and we few onlookers applaud, they give short bows, then depart to continue their duties. I notice a movement in the corner of my eye. Another thing, perhaps, watching the proceedings. Annoying creatures. If they had sense to live up here in the light they wouldn't have to snoop.

Ah, but it doesn't know better does it. Someone should teach it to do better. I could get the crew, but, no, perhaps the thing will be intimidated. I'll go tell it myself, assuming it can understand. I down my gimlet and move towards the door where I saw the thing.

The door reveals a stairwell.

"Hello?" I call. The stairwell is quiet. Annoying thing. They surely know that we the people of the upper deck are in charge. I move onto the landing and the door shuts with a soft click and a loud beep. The space lacks windows, and is lit by green lights.

"Hello!" my voice echoes down the stairwell. My sandals flop as I descend. The thing still hasn't replied. How annoying.

My eyes are adjusting to the dim, greenish light. I see motion down the hall, a shape through a hall-door window. No wonder it didn't reply, the door was shut. I walk quickly, trying to follow the thing and dart through door after door, calling after it. It doesn't hear me or doesn't stop.

The stupid, stupid thing, where did it go? I stop at yet another door. Now I'm just annoyed. It's not worth teaching. I'll just go back to the upper deck and let the stupid thing be stupid. I shudder. It's much cooler down here than the deck. But, oh... How do I get back?

I just came this way, and it was a left? or a right?

I've been wandering a while now.

The stupid thing got me lost. I'm ready for another drink, isn't there an intercom for staff?

Just ahead, there's a different color of light. It looks yellow like the upper deck! I must have found the way. I stride to it and pass through the door.

I'm suddenly immersed in artificial light, and din of people singing, laughing, and crying. It's so uncouth, so dirty, and loud, nothing like the lounge parties of the upper deck.

I'm pulled into a circle of dirty bodies, and I hear a shout: "A lost child! A found child!"

And they cheer, I can't speak as I'm jostled around and they sing,

"One goes out, another in

The buoyancy maintains

The water will remove our sin

But we will float again."

I'm getting dizzy and overwhelmed by the scent of dirt and sweat. A young woman suddenly pulls me to the walls and looks at me with a bemused smile.

"Just arrived?" She asks, nearly shouting. I steady myself on the wall and try to calm myself. I feel sick. I cover my mouth, and glance desperately around.

She grabs my arm and pulls me through a door, and a gush of stale, but scentless air, washes over me.

“Thank you,” I gasp, “upper deck.”

She laughs softly, "Can't get there from here, don’t you know that?”

“What?” I choke out, still heaving. I hate her, she could at least bring me something to drink, “What? No, gah, I’m from there. I was born there.” I take slower breaths.

She raises her eye brows, “then how’d you get here?”

“I followed someone, there was an open door.” She looks like a person, but she really must be stupid.

She shook her head, “Well, don’t know what to tell you but there’s no way back up without a crewman. But they only come here to keep the light.”

“What light?” She really is annoying.

She sighs, as though I was the stupid one.

“Well,” she says, as though remembering, “There may be a way to the upper deck, since you were born there I guess it’s only proper.”

Finally, she’s making sense.

“How?”

“By going down. Can you walk?”

“Yes, but could I get a drink?”

She laughs softly, “trust me, you’d rather wait. Down here we only have waste water and stale booze. It’s not fit for you. Think how delicious a nice fresh drink made with clean ice will be.”

She makes good sense, “You’re right,” I say, “It can’t be too long back to the deck.”

“Of course not, follow me.”

She grabs my hand and pulls me along the corridor, “We’ll need to stop at my cabin first. We’ll go deep into the ship, and what you’re wearing isn’t nearly adequate.”

She guides me to a door and enters a space no bigger than my closet. She pulls a pair of coveralls from the bed and throws them at me. I shudder.

“Wear them, or you’ll freeze before we make it back. Think how nice it will feel when you can take those off in the sunlight.”

She seems to have realized her place. I guess these things are not so stupid after all.

“When you’ve brought me back to the upper deck,” I say, “I’ll be sure you are rewarded.”

She smiles, and says, “Then come,”

We hurry down the corridor to a set of stairs and we spiral down and down. The air feels stale. She pauses at a landing and ushers me inside before shutting the door. I reach for the next one, desperate to get this over with, but she grabs my hand.

“Wait,” She says, and I hear a hiss of air.

“What is it?” I ask, and a I hear a soft click.

“An air lock,” She says, opened the next door and stepping down into knee deep water. She gestures to the flooded corridor.

“These were installed about a thousand years ago after an… incident. As long as the airlocks are maintained it keeps the water safe in the lowest portion of the ship.

My heart sinks, “No,” I say, “No, this ship has sailed 10’000 years. It can’t be sinking.”

She laughs, “nothing endures forever,”

“But,” I stammer, “But get the water out. Pump it out. My deck could sink!”

“Come,” She says, “The upper deck is perfectly safe. Down here, we work hard to keep you and the crew safe. We work in the dark so you can live in the light,”

Her words are soothing, and soon she’ll have me back to my poolside. Where the air is fresh and clean, where the staff is clean and attractive, and the clothes are soft or not needed at all.

I take a deep breath and follow her.

“That’s the way,” She says, “follow me,” She stumbles and falls forward into the water, I reach out to her but recoil as I see what she tripped over: it’s a thing. No, a body. A things body. No a person. A person’s body floating in the corridor.

I feel myself screaming, “Get me out!” I demand “Get me back to the deck!” The walls feel like they’re pressing in on me. I trip and I thrash in the water. I’ll drown in the corridor. The ship is sinking, it must be sinking!

Her hands pull me up and a stern face is inches from mine.

“Be still,” something in her intensity forces my eyes to lock on hers.

“The dead are dead. They cannot hurt you.”

“But why is it there?” I whimper,

“Simpler to leave them, then try to haul them up. The cold water preserves them. Nothing more. Come, we’re almost there, stay calm and soon you’ll be back to the sun. Soon you can forget all of this.”

“Yes,” I hear myself saying, “The sun, the warm sun, the cool drinks.”

“Like a bad dream,” she adds.

Yes, a dream. She is a good person to guide me. She leads me on, calmly, coolly. Like the crew do when I lose my games, or I can’t get my favorite steak.

She comes to another door, and presses something to a pad beside it. The door slides open to reveal a well-lit, square space.

“An elevator?” I ask, “but how?”

She coaxes me inside without answering, but now I’m eager for the sun as the door slides shut and we begin to rise. She’s such a clever thing.

As we ascend, she removes her coveralls and folds them neatly. Beneath them she wears a cotton tee-shirt and loose shorts, her legs and arms are incredibly pale. She sees me staring.

“It’s getting hot.” She says, “I’m not used to being so high in the ship.” She says, a touch of excitement in her voice.

“I should change as well,” I say, I look forward to a hot bath.

She smiles, “Ah, but won’t it feel much better to undress directly in the sun?”

She makes a good point. From the rough cotton to the nice sun. A warm bath.

The elevator stops and the door opens to reveal a large room. A pair of crewmen stand waiting. They approach and the girl a folded towel and fresh clothes.

“Welcome to the crew,” they say, “We pursue the light,”

“Through the darkness,” she says with nod as she turns to leave.

“Sorry,” I say, how dare they neglect me, “Where’s my towel, my fresh clothes?”

The crewman looks at me, his expression cold. “Only crew and those of the upper deck get them,”

“But I was born to the upper deck! I belong up here!”

“One left the light this morning, only one may return. She endured the darkness and pursued the light. You forsook light to seek darkness. She now belongs, but you do not.”

“But she’s bringing me back!”

“No.” Says the one, “Those born in the dark may seek the light, but those who leave the light. ” he shakes his head.

“It’s only fair,” Says the other, “If only you’d had the sense to live in the light,”

They each grab one of my arms. I struggle against them as they begin dragging me out on to the deck.

“But, but, what about the water?” I ask, desperate, “The water in the lower levels?”

“What water? Are you saying this ship is sinking? Impossible. This ship can never sink. It’s 10’000 year history proves it.”

“No” I shout, as the crewmen drag me towards the railing “No, it isn’t,” I can’t find the right words, “I was born here!”

“You poor thing,” one says,

I see a few heads turn to watch as we pass the poolside, and I see the young servers preparing drinks.

I splutter, I shout, I barely know what I’m saying,

The crewmen give me a forceful heave and I hear the dull sound of applause as I plummet overboard.