Aqueous, p.12
Aqueous, page 12
“All I’ve been told is that you can take one of those and then move on, quietly. Do not tell anyone where I am. I want to stump everybody, especially Etan,” he said, confirming the longevity of their rivalry.
“Oh yeah, for sure. I won’t be telling anyone, don’t worry. I’m in it to win it today.”
I grabbed one of the items below the podium while trying not to annoy him further. It was a spindle. A simple tool used to twist plant fibers into usable thread, it did relate to cotton, but I was not given any bolls.
“Is this it?”
“Yes, that’s it. Now get lost before you get me into more trouble.”
I had nothing to spin.
“Is there a mature cotton crop hiding nearby?”
“How would I know?” he snarked. “Now beat it.”
“Fine, I’m going.”
The Biggott boys had sharp edges.
I put the spindle into my bucket with the sugarcane and yeast, but I was stumped, so I returned to the first stanza.
Steal a home to shelter yourself,
The carpenter pays with its life.
Boiled and seasoned a protein feast,
Cold brings disease and rife.
I had missed it before, but now I understood. In addition to hemp, jute, flax, and cotton, Aqueous botanists harvested silk from silkworms. Our history lessons had taught us that silkworms had been consumed by other cultures due to their high protein content, and I knew that they were susceptible to disease if exposed to cold temperatures. I had fixated on plant material and forgotten about the worms, but it was so obvious now. The trial was named Leizu, after the empress who invented the silk loom. Silkworms spun themselves into cocoons of silk threads before emerging as moths, and the cocoons were harvested and boiled to unravel individual threads before they were spun together into stronger, usable thread. Unfortunately, the worms perished in the process.
I needed to visit the silkworm receptacle, near the mulberry podium, on the level below. As I turned to leave, I heard Naviah’s voice on the other side of the cotton plants.
“Murphy, no one else will know this, but the cotton crop isn’t mature. The snowy white bolls won’t be visible yet, so this will confuse a lot of trainees. We can make up some time and get ahead!”
I didn’t want to disrupt her, so I slipped away unnoticed, but I was relieved to learn that she was doing well. I should not have been surprised. If there was one trial she would excel at, it would be the one pertaining to textiles.
Naviah had a point about getting ahead. It was evident that many trainees were simply following the leader. If I returned to the staircase it was probable that others would follow me to the silkworms, and I didn’t want that. I needed a different route. Perhaps the supply lift was viable. The others would likely not think of it, as it was built to haul heavy comestibles, and with every resident of Aqueous fully mobile there was an unspoken expectation to take the stairs.
I rounded green bunches of coconuts and proceeded toward the adjacent department of Comestible Silos & Refrigeration. Located within the arboretum, and fitted with temperature-controlled storage, the facility preserved harvested items until they were needed by neighboring departments, like the kitchen, which was located above and connected by the supply lift. If I could access the lift, I could move undetected to complete the trial.
I pressed the button and waited for the aluminum doors to slide open, and when they did I was saluted by a surprising silhouette—Felix.
“I wondered when you’d get here,” he said with a smirk. “The rest of them are far too daft to figure this out. What have you got in your bucket?”
“Mind your own business,” I replied, swinging my bucket behind my back as I entered the lift. “We’re not supposed to work together.”
“Oh beans. This challenge is as much about alliances as it is about individual sleuthing. I specifically listened for Florin to discourage teamwork, but she did not. Trust me, Marisol, they are monitoring who is working together and who isn’t. It’s a big indicator of how we should be assigned.”
Maybe he was right. Some assignments were more suited toward group work.
“Well, I can’t work with you or anyone else. My preferred assignment requires independent problem solving.”
“And that’s what I like about you. You’ve always been a feisty one. A fighter. A survivor,” he added as the doors opened. “Fine, you get out and I will ride around in this thing a little longer. It’s fun in here, and besides, if anyone deserves to have their dreams come true it’s you, Marisol.”
He vanished behind the closing doors, leaving me to contemplate his comments.
Did Felix Nyrmac just act like a complete gentleman? How bizarre.
The silkworm receptacle was located near the mulberry podium, adjacent to the offices of the botanists. I walked to the entrance of it, opened the door, and found Marglo, an aide, perched on a stool inside. Next to her, on a table, were twenty-one bowls. I was ahead of Amley. I was first! For someone who detested botany, I was blossoming.
I surveyed the bowls and found that each of them contained an empty silk cocoon. Sugar had told us that on Sihai Longwang they consumed boiled silkworm larvae. Hopefully the former inhabitant of this cocoon had emerged as a moth, and not as broth, but who knew.
I selected a bowl and put it in my bucket.
“Congratulations, Marisol! You’re the first to decipher this part of the riddle,” exclaimed Marglo. She was an enthusiastic botanist with a cheerful disposition. “Perhaps an assignment in our department is in your future.”
Not happening.
“Oh, well, Marglo, I hadn’t considered that, but just look at those worms. Aren’t they fun.”
I managed my way out of the receptacle without being rude, but internally I refused to dedicate my life to worms.
It was time to review the final stanzas of the poem.
Water for your wishes,
Is best if pure and true.
Journey to its cleanest source,
And you can make a stew.
Make known your full intentions,
To the atelier of the house.
Present the perfect process,
And you can make a blouse.
The ultimate goal was to demonstrate the process by which materials from the arboretum could be used to make a blouse. A silk blouse. I was not making a stew. The transformation of a silk cocoon into silk thread required ‘stewing’ the cocoon in clean, boiling water, and the cleanest water on Aqueous was found in our kitchen.
After filling the bowl with the clean water, I would need to locate Alfrid Shru, Atelier Director, and explain that by fermenting the sugarcane and yeast to produce ethanol, I could ignite the ethanol, boil the water, and stew the cocoon in the water to release individual silk threads. Then I could use the spindle to wind the threads together, making stronger, usable threads for blouse construction.
I could use the supply lift to pass directly into the kitchen and save an enormous amount of time, so I returned to it, pressed the button, and bumped directly into Felix as the doors opened.
“Boom. We meet again, Marisol Blaise. Just as you are about to win this one. See you in the kitchen?”
I watched him walk toward the silkworm receptacle. Aqueous was covered in surveillance cameras, and our evaluators would be watching our every move. They would already know that he had let me win.
“I’ll wait for you.”
He stopped and turned toward me.
“What?”
“I will wait for you, and we can finish together.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes, Felix, but only if you hurry up. I haven’t got all day.”
He smiled and quickened his step.
“Awesome! I’ll be right back.”
He was in and out of the receptacle in a flash, shouting, “Yeah, whatever, cool,” to Marglo on his way out.
“Not interested in an arboretum assignment either?”
“Not a chance.”
We ascended in the lift together, into the kitchen, and as the doors opened we could see Reggie feigning wiping down the countertops nearby. His face lit up as we stepped out, evidencing the satisfaction he took from being involved in the trials.
“Do either of you need any water?”
“You’re not supposed to help us, Reg.”
“That isn’t helping you, young lady. You may be tired or thirsty from doing whatever it is you’re doing today, so I’m offering you some of the finest, cleanest water we have on this station. Alright? And you too, Felix. You look like you need some extra clean water. Get over here.”
Reggie filled our bowls with enough water to submerge the cocoons, and then he pointed toward the hatchway.
“Did you know that Mr. Shru is sitting in my office reviewing menus for the anniversary? He wants to make sure that the decor matches the food. Can you imagine? Salmon on the plate, and salmon on the drapes! Ha, ha, ha! Go and check it out for yourselves, and congratulations you two. You did a good job today.”
He was so easy to love.
Felix and I walked to the back of the kitchen where Reggie’s office was located. Alfrid was seated at Reggie’s desk, with his back to us, but upon hearing our steps he turned to peer at us through the wireframed glasses atop his long, pointy nose. He was a small, thin man with impeccable manners. His SIDs were custom-made, exclusively for him. He wore a unique uniform accrediting his creative license and flare for all things fantastic. He stood as we approached and extended a manicured hand, first to me and then to Felix, and I felt as though I should kiss his ring, but settled on a handshake.
“Welcome to you both. I offer congratulations on a fine achievement. Being the first to complete the exercise, and in record time, is truly outstanding.”
“Thank you, Mr. Shru. Would you like us to explain the processes we formulated to satisfy the clues in the poem?”
“No, no, that’s quite alright, Miss Blaise. I don’t need that. I can see that you’ve got it. I’ve been watching your progress on Reggie’s monitor. Quite an interesting finish, don’t you think? You did not work together, and yet you’ve taken pleasure in standing shoulder-to-shoulder now, as partners. Why is that?”
“We didn’t think it was against the rules to finish together,” I admitted, worrying that we had made a mistake. My heartrate increased as I struggled to find a satisfactory excuse.
“Well, I prefer to be with friends,” said Felix. “You know, my crusaders of adventure, daydreams, and rainbows evermore.”
I looked at him, dumbfounded.
“Oh yes, Mr. Nyrmac, what a delightful way to live. It’s preferable indeed to be with those you care for. So very well said, and on that note, I will ask you both to proceed across the dining hall and wait for Professor Eseer in the bethel. Once all are amassed, he will lead your group to the next trial. Bravo to you both!”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Contemplation is a reflective state of deliberation. It’s an opportunity to examine oneself, and that is what most of the Y10s did as they waited for the remaining trainees to arrive in the bethel.
After Felix and I completed the trial, the rest of the trainees had been given clues, in ten-minute intervals, to aid their progress, but even with the assistance, several trainees, like Julip and Mason, failed to solve the riddle in the allotted time. Their disappointment was visibly weighing down their shoulders. They would need to excel in the last three trials to avoid undesirable assignments.
Satisfied with my efforts thus far, my contemplation was significantly different. I was replaying Felix’s words in my head: “I prefer to be with friends. You know, my crusaders of adventure, daydreams, and rainbows evermore.” He had recited the family acronym of my past—CADRE.
As children, in the absence of his father, Felix and I had spent considerable time playing together. It was plausible that I had recited the acronym many times, ages ago, when we were much younger. When girls and boys still played together, uninhibited, before the influence of hormones, crushes, and the universal teenage syndrome known as awkwardness took hold of us. We had been close friends, Felix and I. Childhood confidants united by the loss of our parents.
“Ah, you’re all here,” said Professor Eseer as he arrived, but his ardor faded as his eyes evaluated our despondency. We were droplets of saline in a sea of sadness.
“It’s time to move on,” he instructed. “There’s no point in dwelling on it further. What’s passed is in the past. Follow me.”
Our uneasy cohort shuffled behind him, passing numerous residents along the way.
“Come on, you guys! You got this!” shouted Hurley Jett.
Duffel Cowl gave a whistle and hollered, “Enjoy the experience. You’re doing great!”
Neither of them had had to participate in trials. They had stepped aboard with an education and an understanding of their significance, but our futures were undetermined and our anxiety was pronounced.
“I see a brand-new batch of seaworthy scientists,” exclaimed Catalina Phool. “What a smart looking group.”
Mason, who was walking next to me, muttered, “I guess she didn’t see me then.”
Our procession marched forward on a wave of ignorant encouragement. There were few who could relate to this day, and how it felt like a funeral. It was not a friendly competition, so I quashed the memories of my childhood in consideration of the challenges ahead. The degree of difficulty would increase. The pressure would rise.
Pressure was abundant on Aqueous. The weight of the water was in perpetual conflict with our existence. Swaddling us from the dangers above, it was the savior and the captor that separated us from the elemental necessities of land life. We lived in an infinite war, battling to soothe an inhospitable host, and the Y10s were the next fleet to answer the call of duty, assuming that we could complete the third trial.
We were positioned at tables throughout the labs, waiting to begin. The rooms were spotless. Devoid of all materials related to scientific study, they appeared larger and cold. All ingenuity had been removed and replaced with space.
“Your task is simple. Identify a threatening characteristic of station life, and create a solution,” directed Professor Eseer. “You have one hour. Please begin.”
“One hour?” Crimson questioned. “We can’t accomplish anything in an hour!”
Leop was unnerved and scanning the room wildly.
“This place is empty. What are we supposed to use?”
He had failed, as expected, to finish his thesis before the deadline; thus, running out of time to prepare for anything else.
“Anything at all,” grinned the professor as he tapped the tablet in front of him.
“ATTENTION. ATTENTION,” alerted the AI Assistant. “The Elucidation Trial has commenced. Please make all available resources available for the next sixty minutes. Repeat. All station resources and personnel are to be available to Y10 trainees for the next hour.”
“You will be informed when your precious hour is up,” said Eseer. Then he stretched out his arms, positioned his hands behind his head, rocked back in his chair, and closed his eyes.
Everybody panic!
I needed an idea and subsequent plan immediately. The two biggest concerns at the bottom of the ocean were pressure and oxygen. Pressurization to avoid being crushed, and breathable air because we didn’t have gills.
Boring. Think.
Empty chairs rolled backward across the room as trainees dashed out the hatch to scavenge for needed materials while I remained motionless.
“Push me again, Kyro, and you’ll be sorry!” yelled Naviah as she dashed to get through.
“What? You slammed into me!”
Kyro would never push anyone. In fact, he avoided crowded spaces, but pandemonium had erupted as the Y10s raced from the room.
I couldn’t think of a threatening characteristic of station life that I wanted to solve, but Naviah would solve some sort of imagined catwalk crisis, Felton would tackle tech, and Lilith, being super annoying like always, would probably carve a working violin with matching bow from a one of the trees in the grand pavilion and then play it flawlessly for the remaining forty-five minutes.
Ugh. What was I going to do?
I looked at my desk, and it looked back at me with a blank expression.
Aqueous needed recycling.
Boring.
Residents needed food.
Boring.
We needed light, powered by electricity, and our electrical needs were met partially by the energy capture of the turbines and ocean currents.
Boring.
We needed energy to fuel our . . .
Hello!
I had found my idea. If my focus was to become a cuvier I should demonstrate how hydrogen could be captured and used as a sustainable pod fuel source.
Hydrogen technology, a highly combustible and clean alternative to petroleum, had been conceptualized decades prior to the collapse of terrestrial life, but the cost to develop it greatly exceeded existing oil refinement infrastructure, so a ban on fossil fuels was never issued. Our carbon footprint stamped out any chance of reversing the effects of earthly environmental damage long before we utilized known alternatives. Our predecessors continued to burn pollutants, knowing that naturally emitted hydrogen bubbled up from the vents at the bottom of the sea.
There were two types of hydrothermal vents in the nodule fields throughout Monterey Canyon: white smokers and black smokers. White smokers ran cooler, generating temperatures of only three hundred degrees Celsius while the black smokers were hotter, generating temperatures above four hundred degrees Celsius. The intense heat of black smokers caused the thermochemical water splitting of hydrogen and oxygen, and thanks to the ingenuity of Aqueous engineers, these elements were captured and used within the station.
As an alternative to electrically charged fuel cells, the hydrogen from black smokers had been deemed an ideal, zero-emissions fuel that we used to produce hydrogen fuel cells, and these, in turn, were used to power our pods. That’s what I needed to demonstrate, but venturing outside the station to bottle up some hydrogen wasn’t feasible, so I would have to simulate water electrolysis at my desk instead. It would be a simplistic demonstration, but given the time constraints I did not have much of a choice.
