Poseidon's Fury

“You truly are a lucky one, Doc. Most don't get to see old Neptunio from the surface.”

“Indeed, I am. Pictures can't compare.”

As he replied, Doctor Jacob Scarlet noticed a bewildered look over Captain David Benitez's chiseled face. Benitez was always polite, but Scarlet usually wasn't.

Benitez stood perplexed for a few seconds and finally started speaking again, “It seems this place is already screwing with your head, Doc.” Scarlet simply offered a half smile and continued gazing at the blue giant adorning the sky.

His trance state was abruptly ended by the tremors–caused by the subsurface elevator that would take him into the Atlantis Research Facility.

Once there, he began thinking about just how lucky he was to actually be here. Working here was the dream of every astrobiologist. And why wouldn't it be? It was the only place in the solar system (Other than Earth) with indigenous animal life.

Once inside his new office, he noticed the top half of an android sitting on his desk. A CL4RK model? I told them I didn't want one–I told them how I felt about those cyber-psychos.

The android started speaking. “Greetings, master. My name is C L 4 R K, though you may call me Clark. I am programmed to follow your every ins–”

“Shut your mouth. I don't need you, and I definitely don't want to speak to you. Clearly, there's been some kind of mistake here.” Scarlet said, interrupting the android mid-sentence.

Enraged by the situation, he rushed to the headquarters. Just before reaching them, he noticed Benitez was already speaking to some hologram, and decided to eavesdrop. This could very well concern him, so why not?

“THEY DID WHAT!? THOSE BASTARDS NEVER STOP DO THEY!?” He heard Benitez howling more than speaking. It seemed as if something might be wrong.

“Yes, sir. We can, sir. I’ll let them know, sir,” Benitez said more calmly.

“Sir, what about the Doctor, he's got no clearance, well have t–”

Shivers infected every inch of Scarlet's skin, and for a second, it felt as if his heart was sinking, sinking as deep as this research facility. Why the hell was Benitez talking about him to someone he called ‘sir’? What didn’t he have clearance for? They won’t send me back, will they? Surely not, no way, no. That would mean that I just threw nine months of trav– hell, my entire thirty-five years of life down the drain. It can't be, that can't be it. The thought invaded his brain as his hands began to tremble.

Finally, Scarlet noticed Benitez leaving his office and approached.

“Captain, I need to talk to you, there's been a mistake you see–”

Benitez abruptly cut him off, “Look, Doc, something happened, the damn Europeans are going at it again.

“I'm sorry, but they really caught us with our pants down this time. There's just no way we can bring you with us.

“The rest of your science buddies will land in two Earth months or so. You'll have to cope by yourself in the meantime.”

Scarlet was listening to Benitez, but was somewhat distracted by his stubble beard. He began to wonder why he would keep it that way while travelling through space. Once he regained his focus and took everything in, Scarlet felt somewhat relieved. Sure, he would be the only human for a few million square kilometers, but he could stay. And he wanted the chance to explore the ecosystem solo for a while anyway.

“Oh, right, I guess old Clark can keep you company, Doc,” shouted Benitez from across the hallway before completely leaving Scarlet's sight.

Clark? Oh, right, the android. I had forgotten all about that thing. I'd rather go insane than speak to it.

#

Two weeks had now passed since the Atlantis Research Station’s crew had left. At first, Scarlet very much enjoyed the chance to do research by himself. He even discovered a couple new species with the submarine rovers. However, the excitement was slowly winding down. The loneliness was beginning to bother him. In spite of that, he still had not uttered a single word to that machine.

He hated those “cyber-psychos.” So good at replicating human conversation–but unable to actually give a damn. To Scarlet, they represented the worst aspects of humanity, all fake, smiling at you, asking how your day was, if you had found any new species, what the dehydrated food tasted like. But deep inside, they didn't care about any of that. They were no more than a fancy calculator that spat out sentences instead of numbers.

Still, this was not for lack of trying on the android’s end. Every day, he would attempt to speak to the Doctor, every day, he would be ignored. Every day till this day, that is.

“Good morning, master. What is the plan for today?” Clark asked.

God, why won’t it just shut up? I can't go one more day (like this) listening to this thing.

Finally, it seemed Clark had decided to change its strategy, “I see you have no desire to speak about yourself, sir. Would you like me to give you the latest updates on the war?”

This proposition was appealing to Scarlet. This way, he wouldn't really be speaking to it; he'd be using it as a tool, as a sort of TV maybe. “Go on,” Scarlet said, the first words he had said to Clark since they met.

Clark didn't answer for a couple seconds; perhaps the shock of being spoken to had fried his circuits. After a small, awkward pause, Clark’s synthetic lips began to move.

“The Americans have lost Mars City to the Europeans and retreated back to Earth.”

Mars City? That's my hometown. Does my family still live there? I don't even know. How can I not know where they live? The thought crossed his mind, and for the first time in two weeks, he felt something other than anger and loneliness. He was worried about his family. Sad that he hadn't seen them in years. Anxious about the fact that deep inside, that's exactly how he wanted it. But he had not wished for them to be dead, just far away, far away where they wouldn't bother him.

“How many civilian casualties?” Scarlet asked reluctantly.

“Impossible to say now. Maybe twenty percent of the city, maybe more.”

Scarlet felt as if someone was choking him. He felt he may want to cry and couldn't help thinking about the odds, twenty percent, that's one in five. That means they're still alive, right? At least some of them. What about Mom? Is she alive? How old is she again? Jesus, how can I forget such a thing? I became obsessed, obsessed with my job. And I guess I made it, didn't I? Top of the mountain, that's right. He started breathing heavily, his heart pounding faster and faster, and faster. The office walls became claustrophobic.

Just as he was about to collapse, Clark said one more thing.

“You should go for a walk, master.”

“Yeah, I think I just might.”

He shut the door behind him and started thinking about how crazy it was that the base’s spinning was able to replicate Earth's gravity. About how crazy it was that he had now discovered new fish–looking blind creatures undulating their fins across the subsurface oceans of this world. How crazy it was that said oceans hid beneath 150 kilometers of thick–thick ice. How crazy it was that the satellite he was on stood 4.6 billion kilometers away from home. How crazy it was that a single leak from the outside or a malfunction of the spinning system would instantly kill him. How crazy it was that maybe that wouldn't be so bad.

In much the same way, Neptune had kidnapped Triton, revoked its status as a dwarf planet, and turned it into its moon. He felt that Triton had now kidnapped him, robbed him of his status as an astrobiologist, and turned him into its hostage.

I must speak to someone. They're two months away, right? I think that was two weeks ago. Was it? Has it been longer, or has it been less than that? No, that can't be, not less than two weeks right? That means they'll be here in six weeks. Yes, six weeks, that's it-just six more weeks. What's six more weeks to a thirty-five-year-old? Am I even thirty-five?

He stopped for a second and reflected on just how much his train of thought had derailed, and decided that was enough for today. He went back to his office. He didn't have to sleep there; he had his own quarters–quarters that two days back had become completely desolate to him. The feeling of isolation wouldn't let him sleep. At least in the office, there was the android. At least over there, loneliness would be replaced with hatred, with anger. And while angry, he could sleep just fine.

Five hours later, he was awakened by a nightmare he couldn't quite remember. There was some water leaking in, or a spontaneous heart attack, maybe. He noticed sweat was pouring from his armpits and eyelids (perhaps, tears were also coming out). He thought about the fact that if he decided to go up for a walk, all the sweat–plus all of himself–would instantly freeze.

This thought disturbed him a bit; it wasn't that odd in itself. But they were getting more and more common with each passing day. Now he even woke up having them.

“Good morning, master. What is the plan for today?”

He didn't answer. Yesterday was a fluke. This was not to be the norm.

Scarlet began sweating more heavily, feeling uneasy. It occurred to him that working might lessen those feelings.

Before Scarlet could get up, he noticed Clark whispered something in an eerie–somehow different voice. He couldn't really understand it at first, but once the words repeated themselves inside his head, he could make it out. You should go for a walk, Master.

“What the hell did you just say to me, you cyber-psycho!” He screamed at the synthetic torso.

“Nothing, master. I had just asked you what the plans were for today, that's all.” Clark answered.

“Keep your god damn mouth shut from now on.” Said Scarlet dryly.

As he began working on analyzing the physiology of his newly discovered scarletium tritonis, the brain fog began to settle in. The hours went by, but he couldn't concentrate; he couldn't do anything. As his mind continued to slip away, a loud siren went off that nearly gave him a heart attack. A voice started coming out of the intercom.

It was Clark calling him to his office, claiming to have urgent news. I didn't even know that thing could access it. He thought, How I hate that thing. That thought lingered.

Once Scarlet reached his office, Clark began to speak.

“I have unpleasant news, master. It seems we'll remain on our own for a while longer. A European ship has intercepted your colleagues and will be taking them to Titan as political pri–”

He froze. Every single feeling that had been hunting him reached its climax. He had never felt more alone. He had never felt more anxious. He had never felt more hatred. Scarlet grabbed a hammer from his desk and began striking Carl, striking once, twice, thrice. Breaking it up so badly that not even its creator would recognize it. Once finished, he began to laugh. He wondered if maybe he should feel remorse, but then again, why should he? That wasn't a him, that was an it. You didn't feel such feelings for things.

Nevertheless, that wonder was the only thing on his mind now. Not the actual remorse, but wondering if he should be having some. Not knowing what to do next, he began cleaning the (corpse) mess Clark had left behind. While doing so, the thoughts began to take over his mind.

Alone at last, (alone forever). Perhaps I've been alone all this time, cause that was not a man I just killed, no sir, just a tool I decided to throw out. And tools can't keep you company. Now I just have to wait. Wait for someone to come and get me. Those soldiers were supposed to stay here for some time, so supplies should last for a while. Yes, they should last for a few years. A few years all by myself, a few years just like these two weeks. God, how I wish I could see Neptune once again floating out there in the sky. It looked so beautiful, so grand. I wonder if it's still visible from the surface? I think it should be.

You should go for a walk, Master.

Yeah, I think I just might.