Beacon of Light in the Dark Sea

Chapter 5

In the depths of Deep Blue, a low rumble often reverberated, emanating from the unfathomable depths of the sea. Though the fish that swam by did not utter a word, a perpetual noise pervaded the confines of the underwater base, and the recurrent quakes only added to the burden of the mind, rendering even the simple act of breathing a source of stress. Yet, perhaps the greatest anxiety stemmed from the feeling of being entrapped, a weight that bore heavier than anyone could anticipate.

Within the underwater base, we were confined to a limited realm, with the harsh reality that stepping beyond the shelter of our confines would instantly prove fatal. Living here was akin to existing in a spaceship: step outside, and you forfeit the ability to inhale, either freezing in the frigid water or perishing in a sudden burst.

Sunk to a depth of 3000 meters, we endured a crushing pressure of 301 atmospheres, an excess of 300 times that experienced on the dry land. The force of it was akin to bearing the weight of a 300kg iron mass. While the air and pressure were continually maintained to accommodate human survival, I couldn’t help but feel as if I were on a perpetual airplane ride since arriving at the underwater base.

Enclosed within walls of steel, I found myself in a world fashioned by man’s ingenuity for the sole purpose of survival. The underwater base, tossed about like a toy in turbulent waters, quivered slightly at even the slightest current. It was as though a weed had been yanked from its aquatic roots and forcefully plunged into an enormous aquarium. Each trembles elicited faint vertigo that left me feeling like a fish caught in a colossal tank.

“What movie did you watch?”

The thin voice of a patient snapped me back to reality. Amidst the small group of ten Koreans residing in the base, Yoo Geum-yi stood before me. She was a marine biologist, who had descended into the abyss to conduct research for her master’s and doctoral degrees, after completing her undergraduate program on land. Little did she know that her descent would aggravate a cavity. Well, the bread here was indeed really delicious.

As I inspected her teeth and gums, she inquired about the movie I had watched.

“Fast and Furious,” I responded.

“Was it enjoyable?” she probed.

“Watching cars get destroyed is always fun.”

As I observed Yoo Geum-yi’s hands trembling with anxiety, I hastened to soothe her by declaring my intention to handle only the scaling procedure. Dental treatment in the underwater base was entirely free. Therefore, anyone with dental problems could come to the dentist without worrying about the cost. It was one of the better welfare benefits one could enjoy while living underwater, but it wasn’t a significant benefit for me as a doctor.

“How’s your research?”

“I don’t know how to write my thesis,” replied Yoo Geum-yi, her voice tinged with a hint of despondency.

In my opinion, Yoo Geum-yi was the most sociable person in the underwater base. Unlike introverted me, she knew almost everyone’s name at the Fourth Underwater Base. She was my first dental patient, so she got a brief self-introduction from me, and thankfully, I was able to mention that I liked action movies.

Surprisingly, there was a movie theater in the central building of the 4^th Underwater Base. Additionally, we received electronic pads on which we could watch the majority of contemporary movies and dramas, offering us a pre-sleep pastime. It was gratifying to watch a host of previously unseen films as I still found the underwater habitat to be the most captivating and enjoyable place.

“Any interesting stories?”

“Nothing interesting in this small neighborhood.”

As I listened to her speak, I couldn’t help but stifle the words that threatened to spill from my lips. After all, she was engrossed in her thesis and seemed to have little interest in anything beyond it. Meanwhile, I, a mere visitor to the 4^th Underwater Base, was still in awe of its grandeur, housing over 400 souls in its research center alone. To call it a small community would be an understatement. I had barely even explored beyond Section 100 and the Central districts.

“The name of the 0th-floor artificial island is Daehan^[1] Island, right?”

Yoo Geum-yi’s response was filled with pride. “Ah, that. A Korean named it, so that’s why.”

The naming of the artificial island, situated above the underwater base, had sparked intense debates among the different nations involved. It was a contentious issue, with some viewing it as a battle for ownership rights, akin to the disputes over the Arctic or the Moon. A range of names was proposed, from the bizarre; Leviathan, Nautilus, Great Old One, Neverland, Atlantis, Promised Land, Greenland Shark – to the mundane. Ultimately, those residing in the underwater base had to make a collective decision through voting.

“There’s a unique person in the engineering A-team called Team Leader Shin Hae-ryang, and I heard that person named it.”

“Were there a lot of Koreans at the underwater base back then?”

Yoo Geum-yi chuckled. “The Korean engineering team is only the A-team, and there were probably less than ten people back then and now. I heard that Team Leader Shin swept both the engineering and mining team votes.”

“Wow, impressive.”

Yoo Geum-yi appeared delighted to have found someone to converse with in Korean. The A-team had the greatest number of Koreans in engineering, totaling seven individuals. Kang Soo-jung , who I had encountered on my initial day, was also an engineer within the team. As I listened, I nodded in acknowledgement of another researcher named Dr. Kim Gayoung.

Out of all the nationalities present, the most significant number of individuals were Americans, Chinese, and Australians, with a few more Koreans working at the hospital on Daehan Island, the artificial island.

“Have you seen the artificial beach on Daehan Island?”

“Is there an artificial beach?” I asked, remembering Priya Kumari’s suggestion to visit it, along with other places.

“It’s really beautifully made. Quite a few people go there to get some sun. I go there often too.”

I nodded, saying, “I see.”

After only two days at the underwater base, I was struck by the dreary view outside my window. It was so dark that it resembled black ink, causing me to question whether I was in an underwater base or a space station. As I peered out into the abyss, devoid of any stars, I realized that I was several kilometers below the ocean’s surface.

Unlike the previous two underwater bases, the fourth one had only a handful of large windows. The manual explained that constructing windows capable of withstanding water pressure was no simple feat. Though the base had previously utilized many artificial sunlight lamps, they had since been removed. It was easy to imagine how someone with claustrophobia could lose their mind in a place like this.

As an introvert, I was already feeling the effects of the lack of natural light, and I could only imagine how someone as active as Yoo Geum-yi must have been struggling. While she chatted away, she absently handed a piece of chocolate from her pocket to me, a dentist, half-listening as I lectured her about flossing. She eventually headed off to the research building, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

It’s easy to become depressed when you’re underwater. The deep sea is pitch black without a trace of light, and fish aren’t great conversation partners. The emergency medical center is on the artificial island (Daehan Island), and the psychological treatment center is installed deep in the sea for this reason. In a constant state of depression, the only thing that can easily satisfy a person is food. Sweet foods like chocolate and snacks, along with various other treats, are almost given away for free. It’s better to relieve stress with a few chocolates and candies than to have depressed people set fires or attack their colleagues.

There was a reason why psychologists constantly requested large quantities of carbonated drinks, chocolates, ice creams, and snacks. Sweetness made people happy. After the sugar chased away the blues, dentists would make their entrance. No matter how well you brushed your teeth, it was worse than not eating sweets at all. As for Elliot, her advice to get enough sunlight and exercise had spewed out like a broken recording. Moreover, since Elliot could request additional personal items under the pretext of psychological therapy, she even offered to help me with anything I might need.

I nearly asked if we could ban candies and chocolates altogether. But I didn’t want to lose my job, and people tend to desire something more intensely when it is forcibly restricted or scarce. I requested a stuffed animal smaller than the size of an adult’s torso.

“Does it have to be a bear?”

“It can be a bear, but any stuffed animal is fine. As long as it’s a size where an adult can hug it.”

Hearing my request, she later brought me a shark and a whale stuffed animal from the corner of her office. She impulsively bought them at a marine museum souvenir shop because they were cute, but since they only gathered dust and took up space, she gave them to me. Both toys were about 60 centimeters long and had a pleasant texture. The shark had a blue body with jagged teeth and light blue eyes, while the whale was a vivid orange color, whether due to mutation or marine pollution.

I liked the orange whale more because it was an unrealistic color. I tested whether it was big enough for an adult to hug and fiddled with the whale stuffed animal. Seeing me doing this, Elliot smiled slightly. It must have been amusing to see a grown man asking for a stuffed animal. Bringing out a smile from the tired therapist made me feel better as well.

“Does it have a name?”

As Elliot casually wrote something on her pad, she said: “Why don’t you give it a name?”

“How about Marine?”

“Isn’t it orange?”

“Well, the color is definitely orange.” Since I had no sense for naming, I pondered for a moment and suggested while looking at the orange body, “What about Red Sky? It’s pronounced Noeul in Korean.”

Listening to the pronunciation from the translator, Elliot looked at the orange body of the whale and lowered her head back to the tablet. “Nol. That’s nice.”

I decided not to correct her pronunciation and just gave up. “I’ll lend it to you if you’re ever short on sunlight.”

Seeing her weak smile and farewell gesture, I got up from my seat due to my appointment reminder alarm. Before I left the room, I poked my head out and asked: “Is this the end, ma’am?”

I couldn’t tell if we had a proper consultation since Elliot and I had mostly just chatted.

“You’re the healthiest person in this underwater base. I’ll contact you separately for your mandatory checkup in three months.”

Psychotherapists always seemed to look drained when meeting people. It’s tiring dealing with people. Listening to Elliot’s weary voice, I quickly pulled my head back, and the heavy door closed smoothly behind me.

Footnote

[1]Korea

Translator’s Notes

While the whole structure of where our MC currently resides is called International Undersea Station (It’s named this way in the raws), I’ve opted to call each of the floors of the station as ‘bases’ instead of stations to avoid any confusion. The base Muhyun currently at is the 4th base, situated in the 4th layer of the ocean. In addition, all of the bases are connected through a single? (at this point of story) central elevator which can carry around 100 people at the same time or a.k.a. (a huge a** elevator).

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