In the deep blue, a gargantuan sphere floated. Suspended within the endless aquamarine, the sphere hung, unmoving, a tiny shape among the vast amount of water that surrounded it on all sides. Staying in place, it was the embodiment of stagnation. Of immovability.

Of death.

The inside of the sphere, though, was a different story. It was actually comprised of two domes joined at the base, the bottom opaque and winking with soft red lights lined around it, and the top one transparent. Through the transparent dome, a city could be seen, complete with high rises and cars swarming the streets like ants. On the pristine surface of the glassy window, a small crack could be seen.

Just a small one, less than five centimetres long. However, under the huge pressure of fluid above it, it slowly opened, widened, lengthened. Before a minute had passed, a drop of water had already wormed its way through the dome.

It fell from the sky like a silent angel of death. Landing on a businessman’s suit, it quickly sunk into the posh fabric, leaving a tiny wet spot. One was followed by two, then three, then many more. By this time, the businessman had moved on, taking his smart suit and briefcase with him, leaving the water to pool on the perfectly dry curb. 

As soon as the liquid seeped into the curb, a complex network of sensor wires picked up the moisture and broadcast this information to a central computer. Receiving the warning data-pulse, the unit ran a scan of the entire dome using sensors also embedded in it. It wasn’t long before the crack was discovered and a klaxon sounded throughout the dome, and two words that no citizen of Outpost 69772 ever wanted to hear were heard.

“Dome breach.”

At the announcement, everyone on the streets and in their houses dropped their items and crowded towards little rooms marked with a peculiar triangular symbol. These areas were actually lifts that led deep down into the bottom of the sphere, to the escape pod boarding-lanes, letting the citizens escape quickly and surely.

Elsewhere, deep in the outpost, a woman of around forty fastened a ten-year old boy into a seat. Her smile hid the terrible pain in her heart.

“Mother, I want to go with you.”

“Now, child, I couldn’t go with you even if I wanted to. The rules clearly say that only one person can go on a pod.”

“I’m scared.”

“There is no reason to be. You will not die.”

“I do not fear being the first to die. I do not want to be the last to live. I am afraid to be alone.”

“You will not be.” She was lying through her teeth, and she knew it.

“When you wake up, you will be in a better place. Just relax.”

“Mother?”

“Yes, my beloved?”

“Will you come to find me?”

I might not even escape, she wanted to say. I might not even live to do so. But she said, “Yes. Yes I will.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

At this moment, an announcement blared through a speaker overhead. “Attention, civilians. Dome integrity is at three point four per cent. Full breach in five minutes. I repeat, full breach in five minutes.” Above, people screamed and cried as they tried to get into the lifts that they knew would not come up again. A single journey took ten minutes. Some even took their lives on the spot. The mother just adjusted the boy’s seat. “Enough chitchat. Time to go.”

“Mother?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

“It is the same with me, beloved one. It’s time to go.” The woman raised her had over the large red button outside labelled EJECT. 

“I wil always be with you. Go now, and—”

“Dome breach complete.”

The dome, under the continuous strain of water, finally bent, buckled and tore wide open, pouring millions of litres of water down onto the city. Cars, buildings, even people, who were fortunate enough to be instantly killed by the force of the massive impact of liquid on their fragile bodies, were swept up and out of the gaping hole in the outpost. At the same time, the escape pod’s doors shut, cutting the boy off from his mother’s last words, and the red button changed to a green one, showing the words EJECTED. Turning around, the mother faced the oncoming wall of blackish blue charging down the corridor towards her. Just before the water made contact, she opened her mouth and soundlessly ended the last sentence in her life. 

“Live.” 

And then all was dark.

As the wreck of the outpost slowly sank into the unfathomable depths of the ocean, hundreds upon thousands of triangular escape pods simultaneously ejected, each a tiny blip of green light in the vast cyan world. Each pod headed in a different direction, and as one lone vessel plunged off, beginning its solitary odyssey into the inky darkness, a gigantic, unimaginably, unthinkably, large something moved below it. This was no ordinary ocean on an ordinary planet like Earth.

This was Abyssus.