Pressure Point

The first dry-walker didn’t just die when the contraption it used to breathe exploded; the blast also cracked the protective dome around us. It didn’t realize the pressure of the sea, or how important that dome was for the survival of our species.

The Tenticali have lived in the Tantacles for millions of years, without the dry-walkers knowing. Our civilization stretches across the ocean floor, hidden beneath thousands of feet of crushing water. Our homes are built from coral, polished shells, and stones that glow faintly in the darkness. Gardens of luminous kelp light up our paths, and silver fish swim between the towers like living stars.

Above everything, stands the dome.

It is an enormous, transparent barrier that separates our city from the deadly pressure of the ocean. Its surface glows a faint blue, almost like moonlight the elders describe from the upper-world. To us, it is our sky, our only hope of survival.

Without it, the ocean would begin to crush our homes and bodies before we even had time to escape. For millions of years, the dome has protected us, then one careless moment changed everything.

The dry-walker had been exploring the depths in a strange metal suit, carrying a contraption that allowed it to breathe. Somehow it had discovered our dome. We still don’t know whether it saw our city through the barrier, or just simply stumbled upon it. But we do know what happened next. Its breathing contraption exploded, and the resulting impact damaged the dome.

The dry-walker died.

The dome did not.

At least not immediately.

The impact set off an alarm so loud, everyone in the city heard it. Apparently, the sound traveled much farther than anyone expected, reaching even the dry-walkers and their strange world above us. Before long, they would undoubtedly come down to look for their missing explorer.

And now our whole home, entire world, might be destroyed.

Ever since we were small caecilians, the elders have warned us about the dry-walkers. It is a dry, technologically chaotic place they call the Upper-world. It is a world filled with fire, massive machines, and reckless, short lived creatures that seem to believe that everything they discover belongs to them.

My mother has always been particularly scared of them.

“Exyvera, you should never go to the surface” she used to tell me, “Do you remember how grandma died?”

I would always reply “Yes”

Grandma had been curious. She wanted to know what existed beyond our dome, and she had somehow managed to leave it. Unfortunately, a ship of dry-walkers spotted her. They called her a kraken, a monster from their old stories, and attacked her.

She never came home.

I was too young to remember her properly, but Mother still kept a little shell necklace that belonged to her. Sometimes I would find mom clutching the locket, staring distantly at the dome.

I used to think the elders exaggerated the stories about the Upper-world. How could an entire species be so cruel? Surely not every dry-walker wanted to hurt us?

Now, with a crack spreading across the barrier that protected everyone I loved, I wasn’t so sure. 

The city council immediately sent out geared Tentacali to neighboring civilizations. They carried protective suits, and anything else they thought might convince the other cities to help us re-build our dome.

If someone could repair the damage, maybe we had a chance.

If not, we would have to leave.

The thought of leaving made my stomach twist. We had very few pressure-resistant suits, and moving an entire civilization across the ocean would be nearly impossible. Even if we found a new place to settle, there's no guarantee that the journey would not kill us first.

And the dry-walkers might already be searching for their missing dry-walker.

At home, my parents tried to reassure me.

“Everything will be alright” my father told me one night as we sat around the dinner table.

“How do you know?” I asked

He paused for a moment, as though he might tell me the truth.

“We have survived for millions of years,” he finally said. “We are resilient, we will find a way,”

I wanted to believe him.

But instead I stared out the window at the glowing barrier. I I looked closely, I could just make out the damaged part, a thin, dark line that seemed to stretch farther every time I looked at it.

For the first time in my life, our home looked temporary.

Thankfully, I still had school. It was the one place I could almost pretend that nothing had changed.

Almost.

By the fourth day after the incident, the city seemed to have forgotten how to behave normally. The market stalls were still open, but hardly anyone stopped to shop. The kelp gardeners had abandoned their work, and every conversation eventually returned to the dome.

At school, the teachers tried to continue teaching Tentacali history, but no one was listening.

“Do you think someone will help us?” my friend, Lyris, whispered to me.

I looked down at my notebook, I had spent the entire lesson drawing our city instead of taking notes. I had drawn the coral towers, the glowing gardens, and the little bridge connecting my house to the library.

“I hope so,” I whispered.

“Thats not a very good answer.”

“It’s the only one I have.”

Lyris twisted one of her tentacles around a pencil, “My parents have started packing,”

I stared at her, “Already?”

“They say we should be prepared,”

I wanted to tell her that packing wasn’t necessary, that the council would find help, and that we could all laugh about this one day. But I couldn’t make myself say it.

Instead, I turned back to my drawing and added a tiny figure standing in front of my house.

I imagined what it would be like to leave. No more walks through glowing gardens. No more afternoons spent in the library. No more friendly faces greeting me in the marketplace. Everything I had ever known would become nothing more but a distant memory.

And for what? A creature who had never even known that we existed?

That evening, I asked my mother why the dome had even been built in the first place. She looked shocked. 

“The elders say our ancestors discovered this region long before the dome was built,” she explained, “They found that the pressure was too much for our bodies to stand, so they created a dome.”

“Then why don’t the neighboring species have one?”

“Some live in shallower waters, Others have found other ways to survive,”

“Then why don’t they help us?”

Mothers expression changed.

“Becuase helping us would be dangerous. Building a dome this deep requires materials that few civilizations possess. They might be afraid that helping us would put their own civilization at risk.”

I thought about that for a long time.

I understood why they might be frightened, but understanding didn’t make it hurt any less.

Three more weeks passed, and the crack continued to spread.

At first, it was barely noticeable, but then came the vibrations that rattled our windows at night. The council ordered everyone to stay away from the outer districts, and emergency lights were put around the city. Every few days, an announcement reminded us to conserve supplies and prepare for evacuation.

My parents packed what they could. Mother wrapped grandma’s shell necklace in a piece of soft kelp cloth, while father packed our most important items in two small travel containers.

I packed my notebooks.

I didn’t know why. They were only notebooks, filled with drawings, unfinished stories, and school assignments. But they belonged to this life, and I couldn’t imagine leaving them.

Sometimes, I stood beneath the dome, and watched tiny bubbles stream through the crack. The water beyond it looked as dark and endless as ever.

I wondered if grandma had felt the same way when she saw the upper-world. Had she been frightened? Excited? Had she believed that discovering something new was worth the risk?

I would never know.

On the twenty-first day, the troops finally returned.

The whole city gathered in the central square. Tenticali crowded the streets, our glowing markings flickering anxiously in the dim light. The council stood on the platform above us, waiting for the expedition leader to speak. 

I held Lyris’s tentacle tightly in mine.

The leader looked exhausted. His suit was scratched and his light flickered weakly. 

“After three weeks of traveling and asking neighboring species to help,” he announced, “We have received our answer,”

The entire square fell silent.

“They have all turned us away. Some can’t help, others will not risk their own lives or materials. We have exhausted every possibility available to us.” He looked across the crowd.

“It is official, we have to move,”

For a moment no one moved.

Then the square erupted in nervous whispers. Some tentacali began crying. Others demanded to know where we were supposed to go. The council tried to calm everyone down. But panic had already spread. 

Lyris turned towards me, eyes wide, “Exyvera-”

But a loud crack split the ocean.

It was louder than the alarm had been, louder than anything I had ever heard. The sound seemed to come from everywhere at once, vibrating through the coral towers, and shaking the rocks beneath our bodies.

Then came the pressure.

It pushed down on the city with a force I had never imagined possible. The emergency lights flickered, and a deep rumbling rolled through the streets.

Everyone looked up.

The crack in the dome had grown enormously. Jagged lines stretched across the barrier like that of a piece of dead coral. The protective surface shimmered, struggling to hold back the ocean. And we were standing directly beneath the damaged section.

For one terrible second, everything was silent.

Then the pressure increased.

I stumbled, catching myself against a nearby wall. Around me, Tentacali struggled to remain upright. The council members barked out orders, but their shouts were drowned out by the groaning of the dome.

Lyris grabbed my tentacle.

“We have to go!”

I tried to move but the pressure seemed to push against every part of me. The paths were filled with terrified citizens. Some were reaching for their homes, others were desperately searching for their families.

I could barely breathe.

Above us another sharp crack rang through the city.

I looked towards the library. Its familiar coral towers stood beneath the glowing barrier, their windows reflecting the blue light. I thought of all the afternoons I had spent there, reading stories about civilizations who had faced impossible odds, and somehow survived.

I had always believed that stories ended for a reason. That heroes found a way. That even when everything seemed lost, there was always something left to save. 

But there was no hero coming for us.

The neighboring species had refused. Our council had no solution. The dry-walkers didn’t even know what they were destroying. 

And the ocean did not care.

The pressure grew stronger, forcing citizens to the ground. I could hear Mother calling my name somewhere through the chaos, but I couldn’t see her. Father was shouting too, his voice distant and muffled.

I wanted to reach them. 

I wanted to go home.

I wanted to return to 3 weeks ago, when the dome had still been whole and our biggest worry had been school assignments or an argument over dinner.

I wanted one more ordinary day.

The barrier groaned again.

I looked up and finally understood the feeling that had haunted me since the first alarm sounded. I knew something horrible was coming. I had felt it in every trembling wall and every frightened whisper. 

I had simply hoped I was wrong.

As the blue light above us began to flicker, I began to wonder about grandma, and her curiosity of the world above our home. I wondered whether the dry-walkers had ever considered that something could exist beneath their ships, beneath their machines, beneath the water they sailed on without a thought.

Did they know we had names? Families? Schools? Homes?

Did they know we had stories, traditions, and millions of years of history?

Would they ever understand what they had done?

The dome made one final horrible sound.

I closed my eyes.

The first dry-walker didn’t just die when its breathing contraption exploded.

It had also just killed an entire civilization.