Ocean on Top

Chapter Twenty-two

The party grew almost gay for a while as we waited for Bert. Both Marie and I tried more communication experiments with the girl and her friends, but only the most elementary signs made sense to them, and not always even these. We even tried to get the idea of a phonetic alphabet across, Marie providing the sounds and I the symbols. But it was hopeless.

This wasn’t entirely due to their own background deficiencies; sounds were modified enough in this combination of media so that basic letters no longer abstracted the same parts. For example, ‘p’ and V didn’t sound as different as they should, and when you put them together in a word like ‘speak’ the combination of symbols had even less resemblance, or I should say recognizable relation, to the combination of sounds. About all that was accomplished before Bert came back was to convince even Marie that there was a genuine, serious problem in communication to be solved.

She wasn’t even yet convinced that it was worth solving. She was willing now to think of these people as a whole separate culture rather than a group of criminal fugitives from our own, but she still thought of the culture rather as a dignified lady of mid-nineteenth century Boston probably regarded the South Sea cannibals her missionary society had told her about.

At least, she was polite to them.

The politeness faded a trifle when Bert came back with bad news. The Council, it seemed, would hear nothing of letting both Bert and me go back to the surface at the same time. Either one was all right, but not both.

I was dumbfounded and unable to fit this into my picture of the situation. Marie didn’t actually say ‘I told you so,’ but the look she gave me carried the thought completely. It was unfair, since she hadn’t. She might have guessed it for herself, but she hadn’t told me.

Maybe it was that look that stiffened me up again. I reminded myself that the main thing was to get Marie back to the surface safe and sound. After she’d reported in, the Board would certainly open communication with this place, no matter what Bert thought, and there’d be all sorts of other chances to get back myself.

I still, you must remember, didn’t believe Bert’s claim that the Board had ignored or buried earlier reports of this installation. My feeling was based mostly on my personal prejudices as a long-time Board official; I just couldn’t imagine the organization’s doing such a thing.

So it still seemed sensible for me to let the other two go back together while I stayed on temporarily. I said so, without all the background thoughts, on the pad. Bert agreed at once.

Marie seemed a little less enthusiastic now, but finally decided that this was acceptable. Bert suggested that he go off once more to report the new situation to the Council and find help for towing the sub, but she countered with the idea that she drive it herself with one of the natives swimming ahead as a guide. Bert could tell the guide where she was supposed to go.

I was a little surprised that she was willing to take the boat anywhere without Bert along, in view of her stated plan, but I realized that she might have thought of several new aspects of the matter since then. I hoped she might want me to go with her to the conversion lock instead, but she made no mention of such a thought. Once again I felt way outside as far as her plans and ideas were concerned. We waited until Bert had finished waving at one of the men, which took quite a while. Then the fellow set off along the main corridor outside the room, and Marie lifted her boat from the floor and followed in his wake — that’s not a very good word, since he couldn’t leave a visible wake under the circumstances, but you know what I mean.

Then Bert started off to make his arrangements with the Council.

He had almost disappeared when I thought of something and had to hurry after him. Fortunately he wasn’t being very hasty himself or I’d never have caught him; it was a major nuisance, having no way to call out to get someone’s attention. It occurred to me that there ought to be clickers or tappers or something of that sort for the purpose. It then occurred to me that maybe there were, and I simply hadn’t learned about them yet. Anyway, I did catch Bert and quickly wrote a question.

“Shouldn’t someone let Joey know where you’re going? He’s going to be in almost as bad a mess as I am without you.”

Bert thought for a moment, and nodded.

“Probably best, yes. You’d better do it while I see the Council. Only for Pete’s sake don’t let it slip that Marie is here.” I looked properly indignant. “I’ll have one of these folks show you the way. He ought to be off shift right now, though he often stays longer than anyone expects. Anyway, you can try his quarters, and then the farms, before going back to Power Control.” He turned to the others and began gesturing again. He finally managed to get his wishes across, though it was still evident that he had spoken the truth about knowing only a little of the gesture-speech.

I wasn’t disappointed to have the girl touch me on the arm and beckon me to follow. We still had company, but things could have been worse.

Bert must have got across with his gestures just about what he’d written. We went first to what was obviously a private residence — at least, it was obvious after we were inside. Its door was just another of many along one of the tunnels. The girl used the first audible signal I’d heard since arriving — a very ordinary, though very gentle, knock on a round panel beside the door.

When this went unanswered for half a minute or so she opened the door and swam in. Evidently standards of privacy were different here. The apartment was divided into three main rooms, seemingly on a basis of use; one seemed to be for sleeping, one for reading and similar solo activities and the largest for more public gatherings. Joey wasn’t in any one of them, and the girl led us out again and off in a new direction. A short swim took us to another of the upward-slanting tunnels leading to the farm area. I was more alert this time and caught the change in slope.

Out in the open, she stopped and looked around to see whether Joey was in sight. I spent some of the time she was looking in trying to calculate the size of the farm area from what I knew of the population size and the number visible eating at one time. I decided I’d need a better estimate on how long the average citizen spent both at meals and between them before my results could mean much.

It took about five minutes of looking and questioning others for the girl to find Joey. I spent some of that interval writing my message to him, so that when we did catch up with him I was able to give it to him without delay. It merely said that Bert was taking a trip to the surface, and that I understood I was to start working with Joey as soon as he could use me.

Elfven nodded his head, took the pad, wrote, “All right, I’ll be going back to work in a few hours. I have to sleep after I finish eating. Can you find your way to the control room yet?”

“I’m not sure, but I seem to have a good guide,” I replied. He glanced at the girl and nodded again.

“I wish I could make something out of one or the other of these communication methods,” he wrote. “We’re going to have an awful time without Bert. Why is he going himself, instead of sending you?”

“He seems to feel that he can make a more complete report than I can,” I answered. “I suppose he’s right. As long as we’re working mostly with each other we won’t miss the language too much.”

Joey shrugged, suggesting that he wasn’t entirely in agreement but didn’t feel strongly enough about the matter to write an argument. He resumed his eating.

I took a few mouthfuls myself, but was more concerned with getting back to Marie; so I touched the girl’s shoulder — she was eating, too — and pointed toward the tunnel mouth from which we had come. I had managed to keep track of its direction. She nodded and led the way. At least some signs were understandable to both of us, I guessed.

It took us ten or fifteen minutes to get back to where we had left Marie. She wasn’t there, of course; I got the impression that my guide had forgotten that the sub had left ahead of us, though I may be doing her an injustice. At any rate, she promptly set off in the direction the boat had gone, and in another quarter of an hour we had reached a place I could remember — the corridor with the big valve which had admitted my tank when I had taken the pressure treatment.

Knowing more of the general situation now, I paid more attention to the smaller lock. A close look showed that it had a heavily armored extensible collar, now retracted, which could be mated easily to the entrance hatch of any ordinary work sub.

I was a little surprised that Marie’s boat wasn’t already there. I think the girl was, too. At least, she looked around as though she didn’t quite know what to do or where to go next, and then looked at me as though expecting some further request.

All I could do was nod; I was quite sure that this was the right place. It occurred to me that tunnel size might have forced the others to take a longer route than swimmers would need, or even to go outside, but I could think of no way to make this suggestion to my companions. For that matter, I could imagine no reason why they shouldn’t think of it themselves; they certainly knew this place better than I.

It was Bert who showed up first, accompanied by a man of middle age and alert appearance. He didn’t exactly introduce the fellow to me, but used the writing pad to tell me that he was the doctor who would manage the heart-lung equipment and make sure that cavities such as sinuses and middle ears were taken care of during the pressure change.

They had been with us ten minutes or so when the sub appeared from the direction of the ocean entrance. At almost the same moment another swimmer joined us from the opposite direction. I took a casual glance at him, supposing he must be another of the technicians who would be needed for the job; then my eyes closed as I tried to clear my retinas of what I hoped was a false image.

When I opened them again, though, it was still Joey Elfven. I had to admit that the stage manager, whoever he was, had done a good job.