The room was small, but the attitude in the water made it a cramped room. Ice-Driller did not immediately go inside. Study-Up cradled her research. The hook gave an easy excuse for the institute to invalidate the findings. The intense personal curiosity of a decapod leads them to trust only what they can discover first hand. They view third or fourth-hand knowledge suspiciously.

Ice-Driller communicated to the others through the walls and the two inside the house returned pings of their own to visualize the situation. He looked back at Study-Up. How do you tell someone their life’s work is now potentially useless? How do you tell those who dedicated their life to active swimming towards the truth that they would have to chill out and wait for warm water to return?

Study-Up was still silent, but her tepid response to him seemed to have warmed up. Maybe that was just the water. “It’s fine, it’s fine.” was all she said as she gingerly wrapped the entire hook and hole, sealing what she could.

Ice-Driller squeezed into the diminutive pressure house. The four could not live here long and donned insulating wraps. They had heated the research lab with a weak chemical reaction, and the water was cool. The exterior was made of insulated rough coral. Decapods could live in cold water, but that made them tired and sluggish compared to warmth. Long exposure to cold water made them drift off into torpor.

When Ice-Driller and Study-Up entered, they got friendly identify> sounds from the two other decapods, Sand-Stirrer and Thermal-Rock. They returned their personal colors.

“Welcome! We waited for you. Feeding time.” Thermal-Rock said.

They dined on what meager rations were left. Sand-Stirrer removed one canister of therma-boiled fish. It was a simple jar with a clay-sealed top broiled in a thermal vent. Such flesh might go mushy but could keep indefinitely in cold water.

A ping left from Thermal-Rock towards the writing on the canister. “Spiced flatfish, my least favorite. Anyone want this?”

“Well then, gnaw on this cake.” Sand-Stirrer flung a square-cut disk of hard-pressed bacterial mats. With his other arms, he broke open the canister and the taste of spiced fish drifted around the room.

“Or these little ones.” Study-Up brought in a net of small krill from the pressure lock. These tiny creatures ate the sparse bacterial mats life that seemed to develop on the underside of the ice. They were still alive, but most had exhausted themselves trying to escape.

They ate noisily. Whether it was the cracking or grinding off an edge of hard-mat, or sucking all the nearby water of every morsel that might have drifted (or swam) off, they filled the room with happy noises of eating. Bright colors popped on their skin, but the water still had a depressed state. They would need a dozen feasters; four was not enough to stimulate photofrenzy. A quartet was a far cry from the public feasts they experienced in the city now pursuing them.

Public dining could erupt into a fever, a highlight of social life. Such feedings were events on their celebratory calendar, based on the integer multiples of the systematic tides. Every five sleeps there was the major tide, a small but detectable half-tide at two and a half, and a slightly stronger double tide at ten sleeps. Ten double-tides, a hundred half-tides, a thousand double-tides were all major holidays.

Occasional flickers let out from each other, their skin and automatic social nervous system trying to stimulate the process. Only small flickers in the darkness that did not burst into joyful color. Will all our future meals be like this? Is this what insulation-prison is like? Ice-Driller thought. Is this what awaits my father?

Before they settled down to rest, Ice-Driller talked about the next day’s plans. “Everyone can attest. Ice-Driller’s experiment contains new life. You saw it has a barbed hook we’ve not removed.” The other two swam closer to image the experiment.

Sand-Stirrer let out a small ping of frustration.

Meanwhile Thermal-Rock tried to interrupt, “But—”

“I know! An undiscovered biosphere.” Ice-Driller said. “And this spoiling hook gives everyone the pretext to ignore it.”

“Hard minds wouldn’t have believed it, even if the sample was pure.” Thermal-Rock replied. “They’d swim against any current. You grow one, they’d say a hundred is impossible. No sooner you’d do that then they’d swim to a new position: ‘Merely a peculiar feature of this small portion of ice.’”

The discovery of non chemosynthetic life sparked a positive interest from their society because of a trifecta in interests. Alternate life resulted in scientists being able to name new species after themselves and giving their lives some sort of immortality.

The second reason was the populace, now constantly famished. The discovery might fund a universal food allowance. Life that did not depend on normal chemical reactions, and instead took invisible free energy (though correctly assumed the ‘free energy’ was related to the cold burns) and make copies of themselves, means that the ever drifting, fully used thermal vents on the seafloor would not be the sole source of life. Nor would decapods need to risk their lives hunting in the open ocean (where there’s always a bigger creature).

And thirdly from politicians, who saw it as another way to extend their city-state’s circle of influence—and for votes since the other two were already on board. Now the ice-wall would be a resource to cultivate instead of a barrier that no one visited.

“Study-Up, got any names in mind for the new life?” Thermal-Rock asked?

“—Nullspecks?” said Sand-Stirrer.

“Nothing yet,” she replied. “Maybe I’ll think of one during our outing.”

“Yes, our next goal: Overworld retrieval. Sand-Stirrer, how did the survey go?” Ice-Driller asked.

“We found some candidates on the flatland.” Sand-Stirrer said.

Arguments from seafloor-scientists posited that ice and rock had been in contact in prehistory and these rocks were not novel. Their experiment was long and multi-part. The first half, the flatland, had been purposely created from a previous blowout experiment. With the fresh ice, they could test if ‘top-rocks’ did indeed exist and if they were of different material content from seabed rock. Proof of rock beyond; a source other than the center would be a secondary proof Great Attractor is indeed real, and something other than their known world.

Thermal-rock waited, then added, “… once we find a promising candidate, we’ll bring in the tapered trap, release the heat packs, and melt the container up to the top-rock. After the refreeze, we’ll open the bottom lock and melt the rock back.”

“Then top-rock will submerge and be bathed in Null no more.” Study-Up added.

They awoke, dressed in their insulating wraps, and exited through the pressure lock. In the glacial water, they all swam up to the old blowout spot. Sand-Stirrer led the quartet. Up towards Overworld.

The cracks got smaller. Soon they could touch ice all around. Marks of tools were visible: hastily carved circular holes in the broken jagged terrain which allowed them passage into pockets of meltwater and chaos terrain.

The ice thinned, and the heavy sensation of nothingness loomed above. A wall of blackness in their mental map. Pings went out, and no echoes returned to their minds. The water cast a faint cobalt that they could sense through their skin. The ancient societies thought the blue hue was a warning to venture no further.

They stopped at the first listening device. “Here is the first seismometer. Study-Up, wait here. When we all get into position, I will send a double ping. Then turn the devices on. Next we’ll cycle the pings, starting with you Study-up, then Thermal-Rock, me, and finally Ice-Driller.” Sand-Stirrer said. “After three rounds, meet back here.”

Then the trio departed and dropped off another decapod. Sand-Stirrer guided Ice-Driller over a point near the grabbing device, which would take the sample from the Overworld. It was a cone-shaped metal can with an open top and a pressure lock on the bottom side. “Stay right about here.”

“Listen for the sounds.” said Sand-Stirrer, and he swam off for the last seismometer.

A few moments later, Ice-Driller heard the double ping. The echoes of each one gave him a sense of what laid above. He could faintly visualize absolute flatness above him except for a slight bump of dense rock extending into the Nullworld. The other three called out, each sending their pings at the object above. He could visualize the size and perceive its density. Denser than water, he estimated.

The cycle repeated three more times.

Ice-Driller marked the exact location where he heard the Overworld Rock. No doubt it was there.

Sand-Stirrer and Thermal-Rock came back with a long cord of unrolled string. They tied the other end to the spike holding the seismometers in place.

“Now all we have to do is calculate the distances, do the trig and get a final bearing.” Sand said.

Thermal-Rock had collected the seismometers.

“I heard it, it was certainly not ice, and it was sitting directly above. Sitting inside the Nullworld!” Ice-Driller said.

The seismometers were simple cylindrical devices with springs and a hard metal stylus that scratched a result onto softer rolled metal. They were good for many purposes, but they were essential to these scientists' reputation. The decapods recorded the distances and the experiment’s design. With the precise distances between three devices and timing, it added more facts so this project could weather the powerful tide of disbelief.

“Okay, double check the calculations. Then let us grab it.” Sand-Stirrer said.

The Decapods each compared the results, remeasured the distances, and double-checked Ice-Driller’s estimated location. Then they positioned the open-water trap right under the mark on the ice bottom.

“Let’s warm it up.” Ice-Driller said. “Everyone grab hold!”

Sand-Stirrer crushed the sealed container with two chemicals that released an exothermic reaction and gasses. Then he shut the bottom pressure lock. Immediately, the device rose. The decapods guided it up; it pressed against the ice with a row of serrated teeth harvested from a dead mandible shark. Three tiny jets slowly turned the machine, and it simultaneously ground and melted the last few lengths of ice.

The quartet swarm swiftly towards safety and sealed themselves into their base. The retrieval process was automatic, and although no decapod had been killed (at least according to their city’s records) in a blowout, the overarching fear of the Nullworld kept them anxious. Outside, they heard creaking, grinding, and bubbling. They were loud, shrill, and strange. No decapod wished to be anywhere near the process.

Inside their insulated base, they waited.

And listened.

Then there was a crack, a boil, a whistle, a brief rush of water.

Followed by silence.

“Listen for the drop.” Thermal-Rock said.

Each decapod pressed their sound melons against the frame of the building.

Ice-Driller opened up the door and swam into the pressure lock. “I got you all into this. I should take the risk.” And he closed the door behind himself. He did not dare to swim much farther and had five arms holding tightly on the door, but sounds were much clearer to him now.

he sent.

He listened.

again and echoes returned.

Something up towards the excavation device was still liquid. They knew ice was less dense than water and partially relied on this to force the chamber to become a plug.

It’s not finished.

The problem was none of the engineering societies were confident about how water or ice performed in the zero pressure of the Nullworld. These devices were constructed and tested, but no company wanted to be held professionally liable. Estimates on how long it would take to refreeze ranged from instantly to a mega-moment.

But Ice-Driller knew from the blowout experiment, it might take several tides depending on the width of the flow, but the ice-shell always resealed, eventually.He sent another , and now he was more certain of the device. The chemical reaction’s length of time was well known. Quick mental math informed him the device’s tapered top would refreeze quickly, but allow the interior to stay liquid much longer.

We can retrieve it soon.

Worst case would require them to hack it out of the ice, but hammering at the barrier between their universe and Nullworld was not the most desired effect. The alternative was worse. Opening up the pressure door and getting sucked into the nothingness in a jet of water would be a sucky experience. The trick was to grab the rock before the bottom water froze, but the top plug was thick.

Ice-Driller knew cosmic forces of nature were pressing on this one tiny barrier of metal and ice. Stuck between pressure and Nullworld’s power.

He swam away from the building. , he sent out a focused burst of sound at the target.

He waited two standard moments for the return sound and bobbed his head left and right to get a better visual of the above structures. “I am going to get closer,” he called to his crew through the walls.

He swam towards the sound of weak ice. Creaks and pops were the notes which hung on a baseline of tension groans. The music of stress and stain. Of nothing pulling on something, pulling back away from nothing.

He turned the last corner and pressed his sound melon into the last cavity and gave another ping.

The echos showed no turbidity in the water. Everything was clear.

The device made no sounds, and there was a higher density object at the bottom near the small pressure lock door. The ice had re-frozen, and covered over the top of the rupture. Now a large frustum plug of ice had formed in the cavity, itself covered over with a top of ice exposed to the Overworld. All was secure.

There was silence as he swam to the pressure door of the sampling trap.

He sent some chirps, whistles, and clicks at the device and got a better mental picture of what lay beyond. It was a dense sound, like solid metal. A valuable sample, but he had to be quick! A burst of excited color flashed over his body as he thought. The Great Attractor is a metal world! Jets of solid ore! That’s why it distorts us. It is more massive.

Ice-Driller rubbed four arms together and two arms patted his head while four others guided him to the pressure door. He regathered himself for the job at hand. The outside of the lock had protrusions for all ten feet to latch on if needed, and the lock’s screw mechanism had an equal number.

Ice-Drill put his five strongest legs on the base of the capture device and put the other five on the wheel screw under the hatch.

He pulled.

The wheel moved and, with more effort, spun quickly; the door opened suddenly, and a mass descended. He pushed the door back, sealed the trap about the same time he heard a bang.

The Overworld Stone rested on the ice below.

He sent a ping and visualized the metallic rock. Again the echoes showed it was high density. It was not a dream.

He concentrated on the infrared photoreceptors on the exterior of his skin and detected the cold around him but saw a minor temperature difference, but it was not hot enough to melt the ice. Next, he briefly unveiled his more sensitive photoreceptors from his underside and looked at the object in the blue light. It was a different color from the blueish water nearby. No color? Ice-Driller thought. Like water?

By now, the three other decapods had sensed danger had passed and could hear Ice-Driller moving the stone around, dropping it, rolling it, and pinging it with an array of sound frequencies.

“We got it!” Study-Up squeezed through the narrow hole leading into the final chamber Ice-Driller was in.

“Yes, I was trying to haul,” said Ice-Driller. “It’s heavy.”

The thin ice above let out a soft groan. There was a distant crack in the ice.

“Get back!” Ice-Driller said as he flashed danger blue.

Study-Up squeezed back through, pinged, and said. “Leave it, it won’t fit!”

A distant groaning punctuated with cracking sounds thundered toward them.

Ice-Driller sensed time was short. The rock was big, while the ice was thin.

Another pop from above.

“Get back,” Ice-Driller said. “Seal it and wait!” Then he pulled himself through the hole. The ice shell continued to pop and groan, causing odd distortions of his perception as he squeezed his sound melon through the hole.

Thermal-Rock and Sand-Stirrer got to work immediately. They hoisted a large metal plate over the hole. Then each hammered barbed metal nails into the ice with three tools, while using the other seven arms to steady themselves. The noise was deafening and the other two swam away from their ruckus. Then they swam back through the few hundred lengths of chilly water towards the small research shack.

“Think it will hold?” Study-Up asked.

“Even if the top bursts, a leaky seal will still help.” Ice-Driller answered.

They thought slower water would freeze faster, allowing them to retrieve their prize sooner.

Back at the base, Druk the Darter Squid was nervously tugging at the ropes which were secured to the research base. Loud noises above had panicked the creature. As they all returned, they saw the squid snap the ropes and dart down—then was heard no more.

“Ignore him. The stone will be enough to descend us.”

They all crawled back into the small pressure lock.

“After another sleep, the tide should be slack. Then we will be safe to retrieve it.” Ice-Driller said.

“What should we call the rock?” Sand-Stirrer said with his arms excitedly rubbing themselves.

“I was thinking of ‘The Overworld part,’” said Thermal-Rock

“Well, I think it is a proof of another world, one possibly different from ours. So what about The Otherworld Stone?” Study-Up asked.

The three other decapods all went silent as they thought. The result was unanimous.

Then excited clicks and hoots went out. “Yes! We love it!”

“It implies how far we want to swim with the research.” Ice-Driller added. “We want to touch another world.”

“Yes, I’ll metaphorically swim with that tide.” Study-Up replied.

They chatted away at the next phase of the plan and roped the parts together. One net would contain the stone, which would drag them down to the seabed. They would guide the descent laterally with their bodies and whatever tool they could hold.

With a rapid plunge, they could dive through predator zones, and right on top of the city. From there they would gather their bearings, hide with friends, and then drag their proofs to the Institute.

They settled down to a small meal of what little rations were left and gulped. Colors flickered again, their bodies attempting to spark a communal feeding frenzy, but nothing caught on. Then took in an early rest, a deep one on the verge of torpor.

Ice-Driller hazily thought while the others settled down in each hutch. Maybe this rock will break out frozen thoughts.

The academies had produced significant advances in practical sciences but could not explain the ice shell or what lay beyond. Their cosmology was frozen. Ideas exploded, but little experimentation tested the theories. Too many thoughts supported by too few trials. No shortage of dreams, but a total lack of exploration.

He thought about his known world. Global decapod society had proliferated. Every economic measure—trade, nets, food, buildings, mechanical contraptions—had expanded far beyond the dreams of the past age. Landlords of ages past never dreamed of the bounty they all now enjoyed. But the boom had faltered. A foul taste had drifted into the waters of the educated minds. That no more boom would ever come again. Society would never find another energy source.

And then bad thoughts settled into the public’s mind. The worst thought was this: there are only so many vents on this planet—only so much hot water to go around. That we were all competitors on the surface of a small sphere. All fighters for energy and chemicals from the core.

With this rock, I will bash their bad ideas out of their heads. The rock was something solid. Extra-planetary. A source of metals and chemicals far from the core.

But the zeitgeist in all cities was this: it would only be a matter of time before another city attacked. Not the smaller cities like Stalewater, or Coldseep, but bigger ones like Hotsmoke could. Especially if that city formed a coalition with the smaller towns. They could capture Deepvent for their hot vent and then exile its people into the cold water.

It wasn’t always this way. He thought. Only two lifetimes ago, city-scale warfare had ceased. Some say it was because of a stability from the core; no more wandering vents and abandoned cities. All modern societies seemed to have discovered the benefits of peace and trade. With peace came wealth. With wealth, investment. And that largess was funneled into more scientific investments, which again fueled more wealth. Finally, to the sonic-arts, and pure research. But pure research has devolved into speculations of all sorts, and thoughts putrefied.

Good thinking failed to regenerate. Failed to trigger another reaction. If we fail here, then many decapods will die.

But he had saved Study-Up’s research (most of it). It implied another full shell of biota to farm.

We don’t have to kill each other.

They could hear the sounds above in the insulated cabin. A great orchestra of force deforming of the ice, conducted by The Great Attractor. To those not used to the ice, the sound would be unnerving. Nothing like the consistent movement of the tides that they grew up with. Still, Ice-Driller found comfort in the calamitous music above him. Free-form and non-repetitive. Many small pops and creaks, punctuated at unknown times by loud bursts. But then over the course of his ice-shell expeditions there was sometimes a peace and stillness to the ice that followed the slack tides. A restful note to the chaos tunes. This sleep period was not one of those quiet times, though. The ice continued to pop, groan, and wail.

He had fallen in love with the music above. If it were not for the cold water, he wanted to live here forever.

The metal placed over the plug of ice was a fraction of a centi-length in thickness and coated in a resin to keep out the seawater. This plate, plus the retrieval vessel currently plugged up to the surface, was manufactured in Deepvent by the City Metals Consortium. On the first industrial level over the city’s largest vent, the consortium used the outflow from the agricultural sector to power their high-pressure casting.

But underwater was not an idealized location for metallurgy. Despite this, the decapod society had developed a materials science that included the working of metal.

The first user of the vent was agricultural. Here, krill and other small crustaceans tended chemosynthetic bacterial mats fed by the vent. The decapods harvested them to produce high-quality proteins and fats, which over many years allowed their brains to become larger and more complex. Prior to recorded history, decapods had used rock presses and screws to expel seawater out of bacterial mats or krill cakes. This enabled travelers to carry the same amount of sustenance for less weight.

City Metals Consortium was the next user. One byproduct from the agricultural users was silt and other waste products. They were filtered out best as possible, but often this silt would flow up into industrial users, fouling the production.

This plate was a normal product built by CMC. Plates were often used to divert hot water between the housing, agricultural, or industrial uses. Though, the most common reason for diverting heat from housing was to maintain a tight grip on society.

With a slight convex shape, they could hold water pressures back without breaking. This model was refurbished, which meant an extra coat of resin over the existing metal, which was slightly corroded by the second coat. There was no particular defect, but it was far outside its original design. The chill water, lower water pressure, and highly oxygenated water weakened the resin further.

In the middle of the night, Ice-Driller awoke a loud groaning of the ice. Ripples of booms erupted soon after. Finally, the long thunder and boom. The unmistakable sound of fast-moving water followed it.

Driller chirped softly to the others. “Blowout.”

It alarmed no one enough to stir. They were accustomed to the many sounds of the ice, and they were safe inside their pressure building.

The three other decapods were still in a passive listening mode, a state of lucid dreaming. Subconscious, but completely alert to the possibility of danger.

The sounds of moving water did not abate.

Then another slow boom unfolded above them. Followed by a louder whoosh of water. Now they could perceive the current going faster. The others awoke without Ice-Driller saying more.

“I want to check the current.” He said.

In the entry chamber, Driller and Thermal-Rock took out a small amount of rope and a chronometer to measure time. Sand-Stirrer helped secure them all to the facility.

Ice-Driller opened the small hatch and threw the length of rope and measured the time until it became taut.

They could hear the blips of the timer and visualized the passage of time. They soon heard the twang of the rope pulled to the maximum.

“That’s ten lengths per three tenth-moments.” Said Sand-Stirrer.

“Flippers, that’s fast!” said Thermal-Rock

“Hot jets of water! This is a big geyser. The plug must have buckled.” Ice-Driller said. “We need to get our melons outside and hear the situation.”

“Impossible. You’d be swept away so fast the ropes would snap.” Study-Up said.

“Then we listen from here.” Ice-Driller said.

They all pressed their sound melons against the exterior wall. Each let out a ping while the others listened to the echoes and other sounds from between the blowout and them.

“It’s no use. With the rushing water and the insulation, none of us can visualize what is happening.” Study-Up said. “Nor would it matter. There’s nothing we can do.”

“So what now?” Thermal-Rock asked.

Study Up spoke what they all knew. “Hold fast and wait.”