Sunshine or Snacks?

Today is April 31st. In the top bunk, Nadia lies on her stomach, trying to double check her math homework. The barrage of noises from underwater penetrate her headset’s white noise: the engine’s groans, the hull’s knocking, and Jenny’s music. To find solitude in the confines of PS-105, the studious teenager had no options.

What a brat, Nadia repeats to herself. Just because Jenny had turned fifteen last month meant she got her headset upgraded; no more parental controls. And the older bunkmate eagerly flaunts her privilege, letting the wired band wrap around her honey blonde hair for the world to see. Thanks to the solar system’s dying sun, now the Earth spun farther away from its gravitational pull—leaving one extra day of the year for the bunkmates to loathe each other.

The shell of PS-105 glides through the ocean water, ascending gently toward the surface. With the current schedule, Nadia and the group of twenty from her wing were due first for the daily Rising. In a matter of moments, the foghorn would sound. Ten minutes to stand, sit, skip—do whatever one wanted—on the upper platform and experience sunshine. The ticking of a clock also rings in Nadia’s pale ears while she checks her quadratic equations.

“Pssst.”

The new sound grabs Nadia’s distracted attention. The handsome fool from across the passageway stands in his navy coveralls, poking his face into the tight room.

“Hey, Brains,” he whispers.

The math geek clicks her headset, disabling the white noise, and shifts to descend the bunk ladder, careful not to bonk herself into the shallow ceiling.

“Abe, hi. What are you doing here?” Nadia asks, jutting over to see his brightening, crooked smile up close.

“Not my math homework, that’s for sure.”

The fourteen-year-old girl rolls her eyes, but cannot resist matching Abe’s wholesome grin.

“Well, I’ll be the one to join the control room some day. And you can stay in the kitchen,” Nadia says, folding her arms across her thin chest.

“Hey, drop it. Got a new mission today. We don’t have much time. During the Rising, I’m heading to the pantry for a run. You in?”

Nadia cuts her eyes.

“Listen, Ethan is on shift today. He always lets me take the good snacks.”

“Ugh, but what about the Rising? Our dads will—”

“Who cares if they notice?” Abe interrupts. “C’mon, Nadia. ‘The sun’ll come out tomorrow.’ Don’t you hear that song enough?”

“Well, yeah, but I still…just—”

A clunking of footsteps echoes down the passageway.

“I gotta go,” Abe says. “Meet me down the ladder after the horn, if you want.” And in a flash, he spins and darts into the dim, red lights.

Nadia holds her position for a moment before turning to glance at Jenny. The blonde has her eyes closed, lying face up—the music still blaring through her headset. Doubtful that Jenny heard a word of their conversation, Nadia steps over to her closet, fidgeting with her coverall zipper.

Of course, rations had been running low for the past year. The remains of civilizations had torched what remained of the Earth’s atmosphere. At least enough dry land prevailed for crops and docking ports to supply the hundreds of passenger submarines, idling around the abyss of salty waters.

Nadia’s stomach gurgles. Nowhere near as loud as the ballast tanks set to blow at any moment. The platform above would breach the surface—the sub’s rocking to follow. And then the foghorn. She taps her left boot onto the rugged steel deck. What would Pa even do? Math homework is a perfect excuse to skip today. Though the daily sunshine would fill her with enough warmth—and inspiration—to reach tomorrow. Nadia closes her eyes and places her right hand over her heart.

Whooooshhh!

The ballast tanks roar. The bunkroom leans as a slosh of surface water strikes the hull. So Nadia whips her left hand to the nearest wall, careful not to fall. Pa would find fault if his lone daughter cracks another adolescent headset. Of course, one previously broken device was one too many.

As the floor straightens, Nadia gasps amid the strengthened diesel fumes. She turns to find Jenny sitting upright in her bunk, bopping her head to another song.

“Let’s get this over with!” The brat shouts, deaf to her own voice.

Nadia forces a grin as Jenny rises and exits their shared space. The blonde had probably never listened to “The Sun'll Come Out Tomorrow” in her entire life. She can stay in the kitchen, too. Thankfully, a few years ago, Pa had granted Nadia the freedom to attend the Rising without an escort. Until then, the daily foghorn summonings were never a choice.

PS-105 continues rocking as its passengers and crew rustle ahead of the imminent alert. Indeed, Nadia’s group was on rotation to visit the platform first. And Abe, in all his impishness, was about to reap from the extended pantry raid under his best pal’s watch. Nadia glides her right hand onto her necklace—the yellow sunflower charm. Her good luck charm. A crop that had dwindled into rare existence ever since the global calendar introduced April 31st.

Ahhhooooooguhhh!

The foghorn. Nadia exhales sharply.

“Attention. Group Three. All call for the Rising. Please proceed to the platform. Group Three. Rising,” the automated command voice sounds into Nadia’s, and the rest of their group’s, headset.

Sunshine or snacks? She turns and peeks into the passageway. Others emerge from their rooms, flooding the narrow space. Wait to go last. Abe, on the other hand, likely went ahead first. The charmer would be hiding behind the lower bulkhead door for only a minute, waiting to discern his invitation’s outcome. Okay, the wing should be empty.

Nadia creeps into the low red light. She moves ahead, clunking onto the metal surface to file in behind their group at the central access ladder. Up to the platform—down to the kitchen. The diesel stench fades as the undecided approaches the sub’s center. Thunk—thunk—thunk. Her boots strike the thick sub.

The white light grows into sight from the access point. Others have presumably reached the surface already, basking in the sunny rays for a mere fraction of the day. Meanwhile, Abe probably reaches the final twenty seconds of his countdown before abandoning his company.

Nadia, the last to arrive, breaches the cylindrical room: the sturdy black ladder fixed to her right. She gulps. The sound pierces her mind; her empty stomach whines in return. The teenager exhales, turning to face the decision.

Nadia grips the icy metal in her pale fingers. More white light filters up from below. As the last of her group exits the hatch above, precious sunlight flickers into view. With a deep breath, she steps onto the ladder, following her life’s inspiration.