THE MOIRAE

Moirae:

You have my attention. You have had it for years. But I defy you. I have freed myself from your bondage. Yet why do you keep singing to me? I refuse to hear the music you chant. You have no more power over me, vixens.  I no longer fear the path you have devised for me.

Clotho, you were the first to greet me with your malevolent plot. When I took my first breath, you took the last from my mother. My father told me it was fate. I knew it was you. My mother meant you no harm, but you had blackness in your heart. You placed the burden of her death on my tiny shoulders, as you relished the motherless existence you wove into the thread of my birth. My father tried to relieve me of this burden, but he was weak. He was no match for your evil spells. 

Lakhesis, you pointed your wicked staff in my direction. It wasn’t enough for your sister to take my mother. You took my father’s broken heart and crushed his spirit, until he could no longer bear it. My foster parents said it was fate, but I knew it was you. You plotted the course of my existence - alone and scared. It was easy for a shrew like you to impose such hardships on a child. But I have outgrown you.

Aisa, the third and final crone, you are waiting in the wings for your chance. My death would be deemed fate, as you Moirae have designed it. It would be said that I had no chance from the beginning, a prophetic outcome, written in the stars. 

But, Aisa, you should inform your sisters that they have miscalculated. They overplayed their hand, and made me stronger with their schemes. Whereas my father couldn’t fight the three of you with a broken heart, your sisters have made me a heart of steel. There is nothing you witches can devise that will soften my resolve.  I vow to live life to the fullest - you shall fail. You are powerless. My destiny is mine and mine alone.

Signed,

Althea

***

This letter to the Moirae is cathartic, purely symbolic. I know that. I wrote it years ago. I read it whenever I prepare for battle. It helps me focus so the hag can’t catch me. I don’t have a death wish. Quite the opposite. I am most alive when I beat the Moirae at their own game. Maybe that’s why I risk so much.

 I have been tempting Aisa ever since my dad died, daring her to come after me. To wind her spindly arms around me and drag me to the place of no return. But I outwit her danger with knowledge, turning the odds in my favor. So far, I have been lucky in defying providence.

I have risked my life for the sake of science many times. But I have always managed that risk. This time, it will be different, though. I am exploring a world of which I have limited knowledge. Aisa has the advantage. But the challenge is, in itself, intoxicating. Aisa can spread her tentacles and swaddle me with her evil plans, but I vow not to let her win. I have prepared for this.

Like others have done before me, I am about to explore the depths of the oceans, imploring Neptune to reveal his secrets. Many have perished in such pursuits. I am well aware that traveling 30,000 feet under the sea’s surface is fraught with danger. Just last year, the Titan submersible imploded in waters not nearly as deep as we are going. Five people lost their lives. Did they die by Neptune’s wrath, to keep his confidences, or by Aisa’s will? In the end, it matters not to those that pass, but to me, I want to add nothing to Aisa’s power.

No matter the instigator, implosions are rare, but a sundry of other dangers lurk in the briny deep. All the potentialities swim across my brain, but I refuse to be deterred.

As I board the Mother Ship carrying our vessel, I meet my partner, Doran. We have been preparing for this dive for over a year, but this is the first time we meet. He will guide the two-person submersible. He is an experienced bathyscaphe pilot. I am impressed with his confidence. I haven’t been on a submersible before, but my advanced degrees in Oceanography and Geothermal Energy make me uniquely qualified for the scientific aspect of this mission.

After the perfunctory greeting, Doran wastes little time in letting me know that there will be no relaxing whilst we sail to our dive spot. He intends to use that time to give me a crash course on the submersible. If he becomes incapacitated for any reason, I need to know how to operate our underwater vehicle. 

I have learned to trust my instincts about people. Since my life hinges on Doran’s competence, I am immediately pleased with his business-like approach. We are not friends. But we need to understand each other. This man, small in stature, seems much larger with his no-nonsense, tenacious persona. That suits me just fine. We can joke after our mission.

We go below deck to stowed our gear. Then we go to the navigation bridge to introduce ourselves to Captain Sewell, the skipper of the Mother Ship. Sewell immediately tells us that he has never lost anyone on an expedition, and doesn’t want to start now, so we better not let him down. And he means it. He knows what dangers we face. A big man with a booming voice, he leaves no doubt that he is in control. 

He starts barking orders at his crew to prepare to set sail from the Port of Guam. And they jump to oblige. I pity anyone who deems themself brave enough to challenge Captain Sewell’s command.

Once we reach the dive spot, the crew will be tasked with supporting our mission, staying in constant communication with the submersible. As much as it has been drilled into the crew that they are indispensable, I think once we are submerged, they are superfluous. At 30,000 feet under, what assistance can they render? Oh well, as long as it keeps everyone invested in our success, it does no harm to have them think they are an integral part of our operation. 

The crew readied the Mother Ship, so the captain gives the order to set sail. A tug guides us out past Apra Harbor, until we reach deeper water, then Captain Sewell takes control. We navigate across the great Pacific and before long, land is but a memory. Three days until our dive. Now that we are on our way, my nerves are firing on all cylinders. I am aware of every sound, every movement, every smell on board the vessel. This mission is life or death. We all know it.

I take a deep breath to calm myself, and scan the horizon. I mumble, “Aisa, you will not defeat me.” My words float across the ship’s wake and out to sea.

We are headed to the Challenger Deep, the deepest point on Earth. It lies in the Mariana Trench in the western half of Pacific Ocean. Less than half a dozen people have explored the ocean floor at this depth. We are about to join their ranks. 

 As promised, my lessons on piloting the submersible have begun. I have dubbed the bathyscaphe, Zeus. Poetic justice. Zeus is king and as such, he has the power to overrule the Moirae. Besides, every ship needs a name. Even the crew has started referring to the sphere by that name. 

 The first thing Doran has me to do is climb down, into the guts of Zeus. I knew it would be cramped, but wasn’t prepared for how claustrophobic it actually was. Two bodies and a bunch of machinery fill the space. Nothing more. Doran and I have to work in unison, so as not to interfere with the other’s operations. We practiced our dance over and over again in the close quarters, until we move as one.

There is no bathroom inside, so practicalities have to be discussed. Doran told me to eat and drink very little in the next few days. We are going to be underwater for at least nine hours, maybe ten, with no relief. Best to avoid any issues.

After a few hours of Doran demonstrating control of the marine sphere, I was burning up. Not with fever - it was very warm inside. Even with the hatch open. Doran told me that would be the case as we start our mission. The air inside the submersible would be hot and humid at the surface, but as we sink to great depths, the temperature would drop. We could freeze on the ocean floor if we were trapped there.

I wasn’t planning on being stuck on the bottom of the Pacific Ocean, but good to know.

For three days, Doran drilled me. I soaked up his instructions like a sponge. For me, the submersible is protection from the devil that pursues me. I need to learn all I can in the short time we have. If it came down to me at the controls, for us to reign victorious over the Moirae and resurface to a hero's welcome, I had to be ready. 

***

We reached the dive spot last night. No more drills. It is go time. I’m excited. I enter Zeus first and get settled, and then Doran settles into the tight space.   

Captain Sewell’s team moves like a well-oiled machine. He should be proud. The crew adeptly maneuvers Zeus over the side of the Mother Ship. We do a final communications check and they gently lower the submersible. Once we enter the water, we disengage. Doran and I are on our own for the next ten hours. Any longer and the crew will assume we are in trouble.

Doran expertly maneuvers Zeus as we start our descent. The silence is only broken by the few keystrokes on my computer as I make notations, and the occasional radio check from the topside crew. So far, all is proceeding according to plan. 

We descend past the green hued Sunlit Zone into what is known as the Twilight Zone. The sea changes from green to dark green to a deep, dark blue. I log the appropriate changes for the record. We are almost beyond the reach of our sun’s rays now and visibility is limited. Communication with the ship is spotty, as we dive deeper.

We reach the Midnight Zone. This is where I feel the presence of my nemesis over my shoulder. We have entered an area of perpetual darkness, and Aisa has joined us. I feel her breath, and shudder, but shake it off. There is an eerie silence in the Midnight Zone. Communication with the surface is lost. This doesn’t seem to bother Doran-nothing seems to. He is as calm as he was at the surface. But it is so quiet, I can hear my blood circulating within my body. Eerie. I make a side note in my log: Is this what is meant by a deafening silence? I think so.’

My breathing is rapid and shallow. I close my eyes and force myself to concentrate. Then I hear it – the crackling. I gasp, involuntarily. It sounds like a thousand insects hitting against our cabin all at once. I glance at Doran, who looks grim, but in control and still unflappable. He gives me a stern look as if to scold me. “Stop it,” he mutters.   

Okay, we trained for this, I think to myself. The noise. It’s just Neptune exerting pressure on Zeus. Nothing to be concerned about. Our bathyscaphe is built to withstand this and more.

Doran turns on our powerful light so we have limited, but some, visibility outside the craft. That helps. The crackling is less now. My breathing slows to a steady rhythm. Aisa has moved to the shadows again. Slowly, we descend through the Abyssal Zone. We are in total darkness, other than the beam coming from our bathyscaphe. Still the scientist, I make note of any creatures that pass in directly in front of us, into the light we project.

As we sink further, I notice a small spider crack in the porthole and point to it so Doran sees. “It’s not a problem,” he reassures me. “The porthole has many plexiglass layers – that’s on the outside.” I trust Doran is right, and remove that worry from my growing list. 

This darkness in the Abyssal Zone grows oppressive. It envelopes me, starts to smother me. Like a heavy cylinder pressing on my chest. It is unlike any darkness I have seen before. And it gets blacker and blacker as we continue our descent. I write in my log: How can I describe complete blackness, blacker than any moonless, starless night? Darker than in a tomb. A darkness that gets blacker and blacker still? I am not sure what this is. A watery tomb? What is darker than complete darkness? Ugh. 

Doran motions. I look at the depth meter. We are now about 25,000 feet from the surface. Well into bosom of the Hadal Zone, aptly named after the God of Underworld. We are in the trenches of the Challenger Deep now. Almost as deep as any human has ever ventured. The temperature in our bathyscaphe has dropped considerably, as Doran warned me it would. I am shivering again - from the cold, from the blackness, from Aisa. All three.

I see some small sea creatures swimming around our craft. Some are emitting an eerie bioluminescence. I read about this. Scientists have theorized that some of these odd deep-sea animals use the self-emitted light to communicate. Fascinating. Watching them, I see some with steady lights as well as flashes of bright lights against the trench walls. I wonder what these creatures could possibly be saying to one another. Rapt, I almost forget where we are.

30,000 feet and we hit the bottom. Seven miles from the surface. A cloud of sediment blurs our vision for a few minutes.  While we wait for the proverbial dust to settle, Doran lets me know that we only have half an hour before we need to start our ascent. 

I nod, then look through the porthole at this almost pristine world. At the farthest edge of where our beam shines, I can make out one of the hydrothermal vents on the ocean floor. It looks like it is oozing something and a cloud of “smoke” can be seen coming out of its chimney. Doran sees it too. He expertly avoided getting too close, as the heat from one of those vents could spell trouble for our craft. Again, I am thankful for his skill in guiding our sphere. 

I can’t see any living organisms at this final depth, but in looking outside, I see something else - unexpected and very disappointing. I make notes: The presence of man - a glass bottle, some plastic grocery bags, a few Styrofoam cups and various other refuse. A cable. Signs of digging (for cobalt??). Must we leave our mark on even the most pristine environments?

I don’t understand why these items haven’t been crushed by the pressure at this depth. The items look intact, which surprises me. Even the Styrofoam cups are whole. Follow-up inquiry – why does the extreme pressure, at 30,000 feet under, not crush man’s trash??

As time to ascend nears, I am starting to feel a little dizzy, lightheaded. Did we overstay our time limit? I wasn’t sure. I look over at Doran. He seems out of it. I move in slow motion-pointing upward. Doran looks past me, not understanding. I look at the instruments and see that the O₂ meter is flashing. We are running low on oxygen. Dizzy, I am also shaking, quite cold now. 

Aisa, the hag, re-appears at my shoulder. I can see her in my mind’s eye. Cackling at my distress. No, wait. That’s not her cackling. I peer out the porthole and see more spider webs. Cracking. Creaking. Even in my clouded brain, I understand we have to ascend or Aisa will have her way with me. Doran is in no condition to do anything. I must take control before the worst happens.

I start our ascent, pressing all the controls like Doran drilled into me. Nothing. We are still sitting on the ocean’s bottom. I press again. …..nothing. 

Aisa must be laughing, as I start to panic.

“Doran, help me,” I scream. The sound reverberates off the circular sphere. For a brief moment, Doran seems to focus. He points to the ballast controls. Then he passes out. Or dies. No time to check him, as I remember what to do. I switch off the electromagnets holding the ballasts, so they drop off. The ballasts functioned to help us sink to the bottom but their release is needed to ascend. 

“Thank you, Doran,” I whisper, as we start rising. 

The spider cracks on the porthole continue to spread, and I am worried that the plexiglass won’t withstand the pressure much longer. It took nearly 4.5 hours to make our descent, and other 30 minutes or so on the ocean floor. I forget how long Doran told me it would take to surface. All is lost if the porthole implodes. 

I am ascending as fast as possible. The O₂ level is still very low. I radio an SOS to Captain Sewell, but I am weak. Did they hear me?

If we reach the surface, the captain and his crew can rescue us. If not, the Moirae have won. “Odds are 50-50, Aisa”, I whisper just before it all goes black.