Chapter 5: Utopia - Part 1

The thick steel panel slid upward with a low groan, revealing Esther’s eager reflection on a ten-inch-thick acrylic window.

She stood in the submarine's dining room, a space modest enough to fit two six-person dining sets. Despite its small size by regular standards, it felt spacious compared to the rest of the vessel.

The room’s most captivating feature was a thick, transparent window installed along one wall.

“It’s just an ordinary window,” Esther muttered in mild disappointment.

“Hold on, sweetheart. We haven’t turned the lights on yet,” Arthur replied, standing beside the two-meter-wide, meter-and-a-half-tall glass pane. His fingers worked methodically over a small control panel that operated the protective steel shield outside.

“Is it this button, Dad?” Esther nudged closer, her impatience making her stretch her hand toward the controls.

“Esther! Stop pressing random buttons!”

Behind them, the red-haired girl sat on one of the dining chairs, a sly grin spreading across her face as she watched the scene unfold.

“Try the top-right switch,” the redhead suggested casually.

When Esther flipped the top-right switch, a mechanical hum resonated from outside. Her reflection on the glass vanished as lights from the submarine pierced the surrounding darkness, illuminating the view beyond.

“Wow!” Esther gasped, gripping the edge of the glass as her eyes widened in amazement.

The Washington was cruising along the seafloor, maintaining a careful distance from jagged rocks and coral reefs. But what held Esther’s gaze wasn’t the familiar hazards of underwater terrain—it was a vast expanse of grass-like blades waving gently in the current, stretching into the endless abyss.

“That’s seagrass. Despite the name and appearance, it’s actually a type of algae,” Arthur explained, his tone filled with quiet wonder.

“It feels like we’re gliding over a meadow,” Esther murmured, her voice laced with awe. Then, turning back, she called out to the redhead. “Sonia, come take a look!”

The red-haired girl, who once bore the name Anna, glanced at the nearby table where another young man sat hunched over a book.

“Can I take a look?” Sonia asked curtly, directing her question to the boy at the table.

Rain didn’t bother to lift his eyes from the book. “Why are you even asking? You don’t need my permission.”

Sonia smirked, crossing her arms. “Aren’t you here to keep an eye on me, courtesy of the captain?”

Rain turned a page, his tone flat. “Do I look like I’m watching you?”

Arthur glanced at them, confused. Esther, meanwhile, looked utterly exasperated.

“I’m glad you’ve made friends on this ship,” Arthur whispered to Esther. “But do they always get along like this?”

Esther sighed deeply.

No one mentioned the incident at the old Soviet base—not Holland, not Hector. They treated Sonia as if nothing had happened, though Hector seemed perpetually irritated in her presence.

The only tangible change was Rain.

The quiet boy had a strange habit of showing up wherever Esther and Sonia went, making it hard to dismiss his presence as mere coincidence.

Esther understood why Holland might have assigned him to keep an eye on Sonia, but Sonia’s patience for Rain hovered near zero.

Then, Esther caught movement in the corner of her eye.

“What was that?” she blurted out, drawing Sonia’s attention away from Rain.

“Don’t tell me you’re seeing something weird again,” Sonia muttered, pressing her face against the glass to get a better look.

“Look there, near the edge of the lights,” Esther pointed, her voice low with a mix of excitement and unease.

Arthur adjusted his glasses, squinting at the view outside. “I don’t see anything…”

“I see it!” Sonia exclaimed suddenly.

And then Esther saw it too.

It had a stout, rounded body, roughly two meters long, with flat, paddle-like fins flanking its neck. Its tail resembled a broad fin, swaying gently. The face, though alien, bore an uncanny resemblance to a dog Esther had once seen at a breeding center.

There were six of them in total, swimming together as a group. They dove and surfaced gracefully, weaving through the underwater grasslands. Some nibbled on the seagrass, chewing leisurely.

"Manatees!" Arthur exclaimed, his voice filled with excitement.

“Aren’t they dugongs?” Esther countered immediately.

Arthur chuckled, shaking his head. “Manatees and dugongs are often confused for one another. The key difference is the tail—dugongs have flukes like dolphins, while manatees have a single paddle-shaped tail.”

“Ohhh~” Esther and Sonia chorused, their voices tinged with awe as they watched the manatees glide serenely over the underwater grassland.

“Look there! That one has calves!” Sonia pointed to a large manatee with three smaller ones swimming close to its belly.

“Adorable~” Esther cooed, completely helpless against the sight of such cuteness.

The herd swam closer, drawn to the ship’s lights. Some braver individuals ventured near the glass, peering at the three humans with wide, curious eyes.

“I think they like your glasses, Dad,” Esther teased with a grin.

Arthur laughed. “That just means they’ve got excellent taste.”

Suddenly, one of the manatees turned sharply, its gaze fixed on the darkness beyond the reach of the ship’s lights. The others in the herd froze in place, their bodies stiff with tension.

“What’s going on?” The three of them sensed the shift, their unease mirrored in the silent stillness of the manatees.

In the blink of an eye, the lead manatee flipped around and darted into the seagrass, the rest of the herd following in a panicked rush. Within moments, the once lively field was barren, devoid of movement.

“…”

The three stood silently before the glass, the sudden emptiness pressing down on them like a heavy weight.

“Maybe they didn’t like your glasses after all,” Esther quipped, trying to lighten the mood.

Arthur raised a brow. “No, I think they got mad when you called them dugongs.”

“Could it be they’re scared of something?” Sonia cut through the playful banter between father and daughter, her words hanging in the air like a stormcloud ready to break. It was a question no one wanted answered.

What could they possibly fear?

From the reflection in the thick glass, Esther noticed Rain snap his book shut with a sharp clap. The boy lifted his gaze, his sharp eyes scanning the waters beyond the ship.

Minutes dragged by in oppressive silence, everyone seemingly holding their breath, waiting for some omen to manifest.

And then it did.

Ahead of the ship, the seagrass parted, revealing a swath of pure white sand stretching out into the darkness. It looked almost deliberate, as if someone had scraped the grass away with a giant trowel.

No, not scraped, Esther thought. It was more like someone had carved a road through the undersea meadow.

The "road" was impossibly straight, stretching nearly 60 meters wide into the abyssal shadows. Its unnatural precision sent a shiver down Esther’s spine. Seagrass didn't just stop growing in perfect lines like that.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

In the glass’s reflection, Esther saw Rain stride toward the control panel fixed to the wall. Identical panels were installed in every room on the submarine, Sonia had explained. They were the vessel’s communication hubs, allowing any crew member to contact any room with the press of a button.

Rain pressed and held a button before speaking into the grated microphone. “Control room, are you seeing this?”

Holland’s flat, measured voice crackled in reply. “This is the control room. We see it.”

“What is it?” Esther murmured aloud, her words betraying her unease.

“Looks like a mermaid’s road,” Sonia suggested, her voice edged with an unsettling mix of jest and seriousness. Ofcourse she’s talking about mermaid’s legend.

There was a legend among sailors, a whisper of ancient times. They said humanity’s true origins lay beneath the depths of the Sunless Ocean. Our ancestors had evolved underwater, their upper bodies resembling modern humans but with tails like fish. Some claimed the ancient ones still lived in the deepest, blackest trenches of the ocean.

Esther found herself caught between belief and disbelief.

After about ten minutes of following the mysterious road, the submarine suddenly began to decelerate. Slowly, it eased to a complete stop.

“What’s going on?” Arthur shifted nervously in his seat.

Rain leaned into the communications panel and voiced the question everyone was thinking.

“We’re picking up something on the sonar,” Holland’s voice crackled over the speaker, tinged with something uncharacteristic—uncertainty.

Hearing this, Rain’s brow furrowed deeply, confusion etched into his features.

“What is it?” Esther leaned forward, curiosity overcoming caution.

“Last month, when Holland and I navigated this route, there was no road here… and no sonar readings of any obstacles either.” Rain’s tone was grave, his words heavy with implication.

What does that even mean? Esther thought, her mind racing.

The Washington began to creep forward again, this time with deliberate caution.

All four of them stared ahead, their eyes fixed on the farthest reaches of the road visible under the submarine’s lights.

Eventually, the road came to an abrupt end at a sheer cliff face. The path itself plunged straight into the base of the cliff, which was blanketed in green moss and seaweed.

“That’s impossible,” Rain muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. His voice betrayed a rare note of awe.

“Rain, what do you mean?” Esther turned to face him fully, her voice tinged with urgency.

“This is the Malamute Strait,” Rain explained, his tone clipped and serious. “It’s the only direct route to Alaska… But last month… it—” He faltered, shaking his head as if to clear it of something incomprehensible.

“What? What happened last month?” Sonia’s curiosity overcame any lingering tension between them.

Rain’s answer came, cold and measured: “Last month, this wall wasn’t here.”

While Esther stood frozen in disbelief, Sonia’s mind rejected the implications outright.

“You’re saying this wall just… grew? That’s ridiculous!”

Rain shrugged, his face an unreadable mask.

"Do you have another explanation?"

Holland broke the uneasy silence with his ever-calm voice. "Rain, head back to the control room. Bring the ship's specialists with you."

Rain’s gaze flicked toward Esther and Sonia. "What about the others?" It wasn’t clear whom he was referring to.

"Bring all of them." Holland’s tone left no room for debate.

…

Rain pushed open the door to the control room—the same place Esther had been confined to just a week ago. He moved to lean against the wall in the corner, his usual stoic demeanor intact. The others followed him in.

Despite the looming mystery that preoccupied her mind, Esther couldn’t help but take in her surroundings. This was her first glimpse of a submarine control room, a place she’d imagined countless times. Now that she was here, she couldn’t stop herself from spinning around, soaking in every detail.

The room was smaller than she had imagined, though still twice the size of the dining room they had just left.

A rectangular space stretched forward, just wide enough for three people to walk shoulder-to-shoulder. Both sides of the room were lined with strange control panels brimming with large screens.

Some screens displayed feeds from external cameras, offering various angles outside the submarine. Others were filled with bizarre signal graphs or symbols Esther couldn’t decipher.

Rows of chairs, bolted to the floor, faced the control panels—three on each side. Every seat was occupied by crew members who worked feverishly, pressing buttons and flipping switches.

At the far end of the room stood a thick glass window, identical to the one in the dining area. Beyond it, the moss-covered cliff wall loomed, enshrouded in the dim light of the submarine.

Flanking him were two smaller seats, each occupied by a crew member gripping what looked like steering mechanisms. Esther’s knowledge of submarines told her these were likely the helm controls, used to navigate the vessel.

Commander Hector stood to the right of the captain's chair, his scowl deepening as the group entered the control room, his eyes narrowing further at the sight of Sonia trailing behind Esther.

Esther braced herself, certain Hector would bellow at the former spy to leave immediately. Instead, he turned back to the glass window, addressing Holland. “Your little investigation team’s here.”

The captain swiveled his chair to face them, rising to his feet. “What do you think?” he asked Arthur, who was leading the group.

Arthur hesitated, his uncertainty plain. “We’ve encountered a cliff wall. Is that what you wanted us to find?”

Holland shook his head slowly. “There shouldn’t be a cliff here,” he said in his usual monotone.

“You got it wrong! We must’ve taken a wrong turn back in the underwater caves,” Hector snapped through gritted teeth. It was clear they’d been arguing about this for some time.

“No, we didn’t.” The voice came from the man at the left control station, a burly older gentleman with a scruffy beard. His hands stayed steady on the helm, eyes locked on the sonar screen. “This is the Malamute Strait—I’d bet my life on it. I recognize the surrounding cave walls.”

Hector whirled on him, frustrated. “You’re telling me a cliff wall just popped up here in the past month, Matthew?”

Matthew shrugged nonchalantly. “Could be a cave collapse.”

Arthur leaned closer to the sonar screen, tapping his chin in thought. “No, the surface is too smooth, too uniform. If it were a collapse, there’d be more debris.”

Esther mimicked her father’s gesture, adding her own observation. “And look at the moss up there—it’s fully grown, covering the wall entirely. That kind of coverage would take more than a month to form.”

Hector spun back toward them, exasperated. “Because it was already here, obviously! Your precious captain just misremembered this as the damn strait!” He turned to Holland, his irritation boiling over. “Well? Got any other bright ideas?”

Holland said nothing. He sank back into his chair, closing his eyes as if to retreat into thought. The room fell silent, the only sound the periodic ping of the sonar.

After a tense pause, Sonia broke the silence. “This is… strange.”

Esther turned to Sonia, only to find her staring intently at the monitor displaying the contours of the cliff wall in front of Matthew.

“Look at the curve,” Sonia said, stepping closer to Matthew’s station. “Compare it to the surrounding walls. It’s a perfect arc.” She traced the arc on the screen with her finger, her voice low but charged with certainty.

Matthew straightened in his seat, his eyes widening. Around the room, every head turned toward Sonia, and Esther saw what she had pointed out. The curve on the screen was flawless, unnaturally smooth amidst the jagged lines of the surrounding rock.

It didn’t look like a natural formation. It looked like something had been inserted, wedged between the jagged walls—a seamless, curved barrier that couldn’t possibly have been made by nature.

The murmurs began. Crew members glanced at each other, their whispers carrying fragments of speculation. Arthur frowned deeply, rubbing his chin as if wrestling with a puzzle he couldn’t solve. Meanwhile, Rain leaned against a control panel, his expression impassive, utterly untouched by the growing unease in the room.

“First an underwater road… and now this.” One voice cut through the murmur, carrying a hint of dread. “Could it be Atlantis?”

Hector’s frustration erupted like a thunderclap. “If any of you mention mermaid legends again, you’ll be scrubbing the torpedo tubes for a week!” He barked, silencing the whispers instantly.

Holland rose to his feet. His calm, measured voice sliced through the tension. “If there were an underwater kingdom here, someone would’ve found it by now.” The remark doused the room’s speculative fire like a bucket of ice water.

He turned to Matthew. “Take us to periscope depth.”

It was the most sensible decision under the circumstances. Esther stood close to Sonia, her nerves taut with anticipation as Matthew barked commands into the ship’s intercom, his fingers flying across the control panel.

The moss-covered wall outside the window slowly descended, slipping below their line of sight as the submarine began its ascent. Everyone in the control room watched in tense silence, their gazes fixed on the glass.

As the submarine slowed to a stop, Esther pressed her fingers to her nose, clearing her ears from the change in pressure. Holland reached for a steel tube hanging from the ceiling, pulling it down to eye level.

At the end of the steel tube was a mechanism resembling binoculars, complete with grips on either side for adjusting the lens. Holland placed his face against it, which Esther assumed must be the submarine's periscope, a symbol of all vessels of this kind.

For a moment, the room was thick with the kind of silence that only tense anticipation could summon. As expected, Hector, who seemed to possess the patience of a flame on oil-soaked wood, was the first to break it.

“What exactly are you expecting to see up there? It’s nothing but darkness above the waterline,” Hector huffed, his tone as irritable as always. Esther began to wonder if the man ever wasn’t angry.

“Should we deploy a flare, Captain?” Matthew, whom Esther assumed was the first officer, suggested.

Holland pulled back from the periscope and turned to face them. “That won’t be necessary.”

Hector snorted dismissively. “Waste of a flare. The only thing you’re going to see is more cliff face.”

“Prepare your troops, Hector. We’re going ashore,” Holland said flatly as he walked past Esther and the others, heading for the control room’s exit. Rain peeled away from the wall where he’d been leaning and followed silently.

“Hey! Where are you going? What do you mean by ashore? What shore!?” Hector bellowed after him, his voice a cacophony of confusion and frustration.

Holland paused with his hand on the doorframe, turning just slightly. His words were calm, almost eerie in their simplicity. “This is the Malamute Strait, no question about it. And that isn’t a cliff…”

Whatever he’d seen through the periscope, his answer offered no clarity. It only deepened the mystery.

“It’s an island.”