“Where are you?” Nuuk singing directly into the black smoker. Six-point-zero kilometers below the surface skimming of seagulls and a complete absence of light.
Drawn to the depths by the music produced by the old pit mill at Deep Bight. Where Nuuk was separated from his pod.
“Where are they?” Now to the giant tube worms protecting the vents. Holes in the fabric of the deep ocean silt and sand shifting sediments. Only shimmers and wiggles, a lack of response.
A disturbance tickled Nuuk and he rolled for the view.
“Where have you been?” to Maarit as she appeared shining light.
“My mother knows.”
“She always knew that’s the thing,” from Nuuk. “Tell me, what do you see?”
“A right and a left.”
“Or a right and a wrong,” Nuuk contemplating the vents of the Laurentian Abyss.
“Europa or Enceladus?” Maarit always knowing the thing.
to be continued…