Sample – Shadows of Cerulean – Amaris Emersleben

Waves rear up like claws from the sea, sending water over the rugged floor of the floating platform. I force a handful of metal scraps into my bag, wary of drones prowling between the buildings behind me. Water leaps against the edges of the platform, spraying the ground with sea foam. But the platform, heavy with a row of buzzing factories, keeps standing. The low, droning noise from the factories behind me fills the air as I throw the bag over my shoulder and glance up at the towering buildings. Sunlight is slowly receding from the industry districts.

I need to return to the deep sea. Quickly.

The floating industry districts on the outskirts of Cerulean are usually abandoned. Nobody lives above the surface in these districts. The factories operate without needing any workers, and supplies need to be shipped to them from the center of the city only occasionally. But sometimes, guards patrol the platforms, and I don’t want to have to answer questions about what I’m doing here, on the platform, in the dusk.

I’m about to hoist myself up the barrier placed before the entrance, when I turn back. Are those lights, leaping between the shadowy buildings? They are slowly creeping toward me. Drones. I need to leave.

My drift—a small vessel for transportation over water—is waiting for me in the foaming water beside the platform. We’re not allowed to travel across the sea surface, but it isn’t really a ship, so the guards usually don’t bother to stop me. I climb into the drift, and the small vessel is shooting forward. A few drops of water leap up as I steer away from the platform. The water biting into my skin is icy, and I shiver.

The drift takes me away from the brooding industry platform and toward the center, toward Downtown. Here, the reef slants up and nearly reaches the surface, becoming visible below the surface. The water is see-through, the outlines of the City of Cerulean undulating under the glittering surface. A few meters below me are the Downtown districts, all connected by links.

And they are forbidden for me to enter.

Cerulean resides under the sea surface—the industry districts, floating farms, and a few smaller platforms are all that’s visible of the city from above the surface. The government district is so close that I can spot the gleaming landmark inside the bulb in the center of Downtown, shaped like an eye. It’s supposed to remind us that envy is the source of all malice.

Or so it says in the notes of the builders of Cerulean—before they disappeared.

I’ve never really thought about it.

But I steer away from the center and toward a smaller, abandoned platform on the outskirts of the city. The Downtown districts disappear behind me, like a glowing treasure slowly sinking into the deep sea. The seafloor gives way, the water turning deep, sullen, foaming. The gleaming fins of fire whales erupt from the water beside me, spraying me with water as they plunge back under the surface. In the north, the fading sunlight is reflected on the silvery gleaming roofs of the many farms on platforms.

I reach the smaller platform and climb ashore, hiding the device underneath it. Like the floating industry districts, the platform is drifting on the surface, anchored to the seafloor with chains somewhere deep below.

The elevator in the middle of the platform, however, isn’t floating, but leads over two hundred meters down into the deep sea. Sea foam gets caught in my swirls of silver and turquoise hair as I walk toward it, bag slung over my back. The metal outside the elevator has already been devoured by the saltwater and is crusted with barnacles and algae. It’s the only way down to Shadowvine, even though the thing probably hasn’t seen any maintenance in years.

I wait before the elevator—it operates without people being able to summon it. Dusk stretches out its fingers and creeps slowly over the platforms. The waves slamming into the platform are becoming more violent. I’m on my own as I wait for the elevator to reach the surface. Most scavengers wait for the cover of night before venturing out onto the platforms. It’s easier to steal ashore when it’s dark—but also more perilous. But during the day, the blazing sunlight makes it impossible to stay ashore for too long; that leaves only a few hours in the evening for us to work.

The platform, much smaller than the floating industry platforms, bounces on the surface. I turn back to the elevator as a creaking sound announces the thing arriving on the platform.

The doors open with a clatter, and the reek of algae and salt surges out of the elevator. I step inside. As I glance outside, the sunlight disappears behind the gleaming roofs of the industry platforms. The doors close, and everything becomes so dark that I can barely see anything. The single light bulb on the ceiling barely suffices to illuminate the small elevator, and long strings of algae crawl over it. The elevator jolts into motion.

Water drips down the walls as the elevator soars deeper and deeper into the sea. It takes several minutes to reach the main hall on the seafloor. The walls are eroded and rust-covered like a scabbed-over wound. Algae stains on the rust-plagued walls indicate where water usually flows into the elevator. The reek of algae and brackish water assaults my nose.

More and more water starts gushing into the elevator through hidden slits and folds in the twisted, eroded metal, collecting on the floor. The metal around me groans, as if complaining under the water pressure outside, which grows with every inch. The elevator doesn’t have a vent, and pearls of sweat are creeping over my forehead.

I lean against the wall, taking in the streaks of rotten algae and rust on the shuddering walls, trying to ignore the incessant dripping from the ceiling.

The Connection between Downtown and the deep districts—the districts in the deep sea, like Shadowvine—had been destroyed years ago, and you can only reach Downtown if people from Downtown take you there in a submersible. Which they never do, because they never visit the lower districts. They never rebuilt the Connection, and the deep districts finally realized that it must have been Downtown that had destroyed the link.

And only the government in Downtown can access the Plans—the blueprints that contain the knowledge of how to maintain the districts. They were left behind by those who constructed the city. The Plans are all that is left of the builders. Some claim that they had been sea spirits, who fled because of some obscure thing that happened to the city. Others say that the builders had come from ashore but abandoned the city. After they had disappeared, the Plans became the most powerful relic in Cerulean. And after the Connection had been destroyed, we, in the deeper districts, lost access to the Plans. So, the links and elevators in my district were no longer maintained, goods from Downtown no longer flowed into the deep districts, and Shadowvine and the other deep districts slowly fell into disrepair. The Connection had been severed since as long as I can remember. The market in Shadowvine still offers goods, but many products ceased flowing to the district when the Connection collapsed, and we now rely on looters bringing in everything from the platforms. Without the looting, we would have starved years ago, cut off from the rest of the city.

So, I decided to become one of those scavengers who venture ashore, trying to find metal scraps and tools on the platforms, to trade them for other goods at the market. The devices inside the factories are busy with whatever they are manufacturing, and don’t attack people who quickly slip inside to loot. You just need to watch out for guards. Downtown had started sending drones to the platforms once they realized they were being looted, and stationed guards on them. You need to avoid them.

And you need to be back inside the boundaries of the city before it gets dark. Or at least, that’s what the other looters say.

The elevator stutters to a halt, and I’m standing in ankle-deep water. That’s OK. Sometimes, it’s knee-deep or higher.

Others are already waiting as I step out of the elevator and into the brooding corridor that links the elevator to the main hall. I avoid them as they file into the elevator. They must be on their way to the platforms to loot. I set out along the link. It’s the main link in Shadowvine, and our only remaining connection to the surface. The reek of algae isn’t much better down here, but after the suffocating air inside the elevator, I relish the fresh air on my face. The dim light bulbs above me sputter, and their bruised golden glow keeps going out for several seconds in a row. Stale, shallow pools cover the floor, and water drips relentlessly down the contorted metal walls. In the wealthier districts in Downtown, these links are wide, clean, and with large windows through which you can see the entire city. At least that’s what I’ve heard. I’ve never been to Downtown—and would never be allowed to enter it. Here, the links never have windows. But the water is now so deep outside the thin walls, you wouldn’t be able to see a thing, anyway. Even though the link has been scattered with leaks for years, it hasn’t fully flooded in years. Must be some kind of maintenance going on.

I walk past a leak, where a stream of water gushes undisturbed into the link through a fissure, and steer left. A group of looters barges toward me, and I withdraw into the shadows to avoid them. Usually, they leave you alone if you don’t look like you have anything valuable with you. They will take your scraps from you if it means they can avoid having to go ashore during the night. I head toward the set of stairs leading down into the main hall. The ground underneath me vibrates, metal screaming somewhere outside. It isn’t for the first time that I’m amazed that the link hasn’t collapsed already.

“Bead!” a voice shouts.

I whirl around.

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