‘We do use some compressed air for trimming and fine control. And in the final stages of the ascent, it will play a major role.
‘Now, the skipper is going to fly us toward the stern, along the promenade deck. Then he’ll do a reverse run, so you’ll all have an equally good view. I won’t do any more talking for a while — ‘
Very slowly, Piccard moved the length of the great shadowy hulk. Much of it was in darkness, but some open hatches spilled dramatic fans of light where robots were at work in the interior, fixing buoyancy modules wherever lifting forces could be tolerated.
No one spoke a word as the weed-festooned walls of steel glided by. It was still very hard to grasp the scale of the wreck — still, after a hundred years, one of the largest passenger ships ever built. And the most luxurious, if only for reasons of pure economics. Titanic had marked the end of an era; after the war that was coming, no one would ever again be able to afford such opulence. Nor, perhaps, would anyone care to risk it, lest such arrogance once again provoke the envy of the gods.
The mountain of steel faded into the distance; for a while, the nimbus of light surrounding it was still faintly visible. Then there was only the barren seabed drifting below Piccard, appearing and disappearing in the twin ovals of its forward lights.
Though it was barren, it was not featureless; it was pitted and gouged, and crisscrossed with trenches and the scars of deep-sea dredges.
‘This is the debris field,’ said the guide, breaking his silence at last. ‘It was covered with pieces of the ship — crockery, furniture, kitchen utensils, you name it. They were all collected while Lloyd’s and the Canadian government were still arguing in the World Court. When the ruling came, it was too late — ‘
‘What’s that?’ one of the passengers suddenly asked. She had caught a glimpse of movement through her little window.
‘Where — Let me see — Oh, that’s J.J.’
‘Who?’
‘Jason Junior. ISA — sorry, International Seabed Authority’s — latest toy. It’s being tested out — it’s an automatic surveying robot. They hope to have a small fleet of them, so that all the seabeds can be mapped down to one-meter resolution. Then we’ll know the ocean as well as we know the Moon. . . .’
Another oasis of light was appearing ahead, and presently resolved itself into a spectacle that was still hard to believe, no matter how many times one had seen it in photos or video displays.
Nothing of the stern portion of the wreck was now visible: it was all buried deep inside the huge, irregular block of ice sitting on the seabed. Protruding out of the ice were dozens of girders, to many of which half-inflated balloons had been attached by cables of varying length.
‘It’s a very tricky job,’ the young guide said, with obvious admiration. ‘The big problem is to stop the ice from breaking off and floating up by itself. So there’s a lot of internal structure that you can’t see. As well as a kind of roof up there on top.’
One of the passengers, who obviously hadn’t paid attention to the briefing, asked: ‘Those balloons — didn’t you say they couldn’t pump air down to this depth?’
‘Not enough to lift masses like this. But that’s not air. Those flotation bags contain H2 and O2 — hydrogen and oxygen released by electrolysis. See those cables? They’re bringing down millions — no, billions of amp-hours from the two nuclear subs four kilometers above us. Enough electricity to run a small township.’
He looked at his watch.
‘Not so much to see here, I’m afraid. We’ll do one circuit in each direction, then start home.’
Piccard dumped its excess weights — they would be collected later — and was sent back along the ‘up’ elevator cable at Titanic’s bow. It was time to start autographing the souvenir brochure; and that, to most of the passengers, would be quite a surprise. . . .
D.S.V. ‘PICCARD’
October 14, 2011
R.M.S. ‘TITANIC’
April 14, 1912
LUNCHEON
Consommé Fermier Cockie Leekie
Fillets of Brill
Egg à l’Argenteuil
Chicken à la Maryland
Corned Beef, Vegetables, Dumplings
FROM THE GRILL
Grilled Mutton Chops
Mashed, Fried and Baked Jacket Potatoes
Custard Pudding
Apple Meringue Pastry
BUFFET
Salmon Mayonnaise
Potted Shrimps
Norwegian Anchovies
Soused Herrings
Plain & Smoked Sardines
Roast Beef
Round of Spiced Beef
Veal & Ham Pie
Virginia & Cumberland Ham
Bologna Sausage Brawn
Galantine of Chicken
Corned Ox Tongue
Lettuce Beetroot Tomatoes
CHEESE
Cheshire, Stilton, Gorgonzola, Edam
Camembert, Roquefort, St. Ivel, Cheddar
Iced draught Munich Lager Beer 3d. & 6d. a Tankard
‘I’m afraid quite a few items are off the menu,’ said the young guide, in tones of mock apology. ‘Piccard ‘s catering arrangements are rather limited. We don’t even run a microwave — would take too much power. So please ignore the grill; I can assure you that the cold buffet is delicious. We also have some of the cheeses — but only the milder ones. Gorgonzola didn’t seem a very good idea in these confined quarters. . . .
‘Oh yes — the lager — it’s genuine, straight from Munich! And it cost us rather more than three pence per tankard. Even more than six.
‘Enjoy yourselves, ladies and gentlemen. We’ll be topside in just one hour.’
37 RESURRECTION
It had not been easy to arrange, and had taken months of arguing across the border. However, the joint funeral services had gone smoothly enough; for once, sharing the same tragedy, Christian could talk politely to Christian. The fact that one of the dead had come from Northern Ireland helped a good deal; coffins could be lowered into the ground simultaneously in Dublin and Belfast.
As the ‘Lux aeterna’ of Verdi’s Requiem Mass ebbed softly away, Edith Craig turned to Dolores and asked: ‘Should I tell Dr. Jafferjee now? Or will he think I’m crazy again?’
Dolores frowned, then answered in that lilting Caribbean accent that had once helped to reach the far place where Edith’s mind was hiding:
‘Please, dear, don’t use that word. And yes, I think you should. It’s about time we spoke to him again — he’ll be getting worried. He’s not like some doctors I could mention — he keeps track of his patients. They’re not just case numbers to him.’
Dr. Jafferjee was indeed pleased to receive Edith’s call; he wondered where it was coming from, but she did not enlighten him. He could see that she was sitting in a large room with cane furniture (ah, probably the tropics — Dolores’ home island?) and was happy to note that she seemed completely relaxed. There were two large photographs on the wall behind her, and he recognized both — Ada, and ‘Colleen.’
Physician and ex-patient greeted each other with warmth; then Edith said, a little nervously: ‘You may think I’m starting on another hopeless quest — and you may be right. But at least this time I know what I’m doing — and I’ll be working with some of the world’s top scientists. The odds may be a million to one against success. But that’s infinitely — and I mean infinitely — better than . . . than . . . finding what you need in the M-Set.’
Not what you need, thought Dr. Jafferjee: what you want. But he merely said, rather cautiously: ‘Go ahead, Edith. I’m intrigued — and completely in the dark.’
‘What do you know about cryonics?’
‘Not much. I know a lot of people have been frozen, but it’s never been proved that they can be — Oh! I see what you’re driving at! What a fantastic idea!’
‘But not a ridiculous one?’
‘Well, your million-to-one odds may be optimistic. But for such a payoff — no, I wouldn’t say it was ridiculous. And if you’re worried that I’ll ask Dolores to put you on the first plane back to the clinic, you needn’t be. Even if your project doesn’t succeed, it could be the best possible therapy.’
But only if, Jafferjee thought, you aren’t overwhelmed by the almost inevitable failure. Still, that would be years ahead. . . .
‘I’m so glad you feel that way. As soon as I heard that they were going to keep Colleen in the hope of identifying her, I knew what I had to do. I don’t believe in destiny — or fate — but how could I possibly turn down the chance?’
How could you, indeed? thought Jafferjee. You have lost one daughter; you hope to gain another. A Sleeping Beauty, to be awakened not by a young prince, but an aging princess. No — a witch — a good one, this time! — possessing powers utterly beyond the dreams of any Irish lass born in the nineteenth century.
If — if ! — it works, what a strange new world Colleen will face! She would be the one to need careful psychological counseling. But this was all the wildest extrapolation.