The Unobscured Sky

Today is the day. I will finally become the first one to reach them. I will see The People of Above for myself, and nothing can stop me.

Ever since I was a kid, I've been fascinated by them. I've collected an entire cellar of their artifacts. But my favorite are the ones that have pictures in them. Those pictures are how we know that the People of Above look almost like us. They don't have scales or tails, and their skin is sand-colored, but in every other way, it seems that we're not much different from the ones that don't need water to breathe.

I've always believed what my father told me about them having created us. After all, the most interesting and complicated things that exist on the ocean floor come from them. They fall from the floating isles on which the People of Above navigate the surface of our waters. Some think they lose those things by accident, but I know they're meant to be gifts for us. So maybe I should bring them a gift as well when I go to meet them.

As I put on my outwater suit, anxieties of various sorts fill my mind: how will I communicate with them? I've tried to study their language from some of the artifacts I found, but it seems to be inconsistent. Symbols that look like they should form words vary a lot, as if they're using countless unique alphabets. Some of us believe they're not meant to be words at all, but rather, a form of art. But I'm certain those symbols must mean something, and I will soon be able to confirm that.

Both of my parents are against the idea of me venturing beyond the waters, though. They've always believed in my abilities as far as it comes to designing an outwater suit — I've built more complicated things before, inspired by the artifacts I collect and examine. But they don't think I should be the one to travel outside the waters. They believe it's too dangerous for somebody as young and reckless as me. But the way I see it, it's only right for me to be one who tests my inventions. If something goes wrong with the outwater suit I constructed, I should be the one to suffer the consequences.

My friends are also worried, but they agreed to help me keep my plans secret from my family. They are distracting my parents now, and I don't have much time. I must hurry.

As I swim up, the waters get lighter. Not only in the visual sense — they feel lighter, too. Too light. My head starts to spin, and that's how I know that it's time.

With trembling hands, I put the last part of my outwater suit on — the helmet. I can still see clearly, but the sounds are muffled. I wonder if the People of Above will be able to hear me through it, though it wouldn't matter much, since I can't speak their language.

The further up I swim, the harder it gets. My tail and limbs start to tire, and I get more lightheaded by the minute. For a moment, I look back. Is this really going to work? Is it really worth it, or were my parents right about the plan being insane? If I continue swimming up, will I ever make it home again? Maybe I should just return. Perhaps it's an impossible endeavor, and I'd be wise to turn back now before it's too late. As I consider the thought, I see something that makes my blood run cold: a huge flesh-eating fish, scouting the area right underneath me. Usually, I could easily outswim such a creature. But not now, when I'm already exhausted and disoriented. With horror, I realize that there isn't a way for me to safely rest here, either. I must stay in upper waters until the sea monster is gone, and I'm starting to conclude that I might not survive. My limbs feel like they're about to give out, and I'll be dragged under by the currents, right into the jaws of the hungry predator.

But then, as I look up again, I see something that makes my heart swell with hope: a floating isle, mere meters away. That's where the People of Above live. They must've noticed me and came here to help me. Of course they did. I've always said that they watch over us, waiting for the day we prove ourselves by finding a way to reach them. Why else would they help us by giving up all of those wonderful items just for us to learn from? I hope they will be pleased by the way I constructed my outwater suit using some of the material from their presents. And I hope they like the gifts I brought in return.

My hopes are fueled further when they throw me a net — no doubt, to help me reach them. They must be even more intelligent and kind than what I gave them credit for — somehow, they know that the journey to reach them has completely exhausted me. This confirms what I've known all along: they must've created us. How else would they be able to tell that swimming up to them is would be such a monumental task for us? I feel just as grateful to them as I am regretful that I couldn't make it on my own and prove myself worthy of their recognition.

As the net wraps around me, I can finally look around, no longer having to focus my entire will on not sinking back down. Now that my eyes have adjusted to the brightness of the upper waters, I see fishes I've never seen before dancing around me in beautiful patterns. And yet, as soon as the net pulls me up, they swim away, as if in fear. I laugh at them — they must be scared of me. After all, there are no other creatures here that they wouldn't be well acquainted with. And soon enough, I will get to know them, too.

I hold my breath as the net pulls me up with increased speed. It cuts through the fabric of my suit and into my skin, but I don't dare move, not wanting to make it even harder for the People of Above to pull me up. I hope they will still let me rest on their isle despite the trouble I caused them.

When I'm finally pulled out of the water, it feels like a sharp movement that happens in a flash. And suddenly, the pain gets overwhelming. I scream as my body jerks in the net, unable to suppress my reaction. I'm then thrown on the floor with such force that it almost seems like a punishment.

My skin feels unbearably hot, except for my head, which is protected by the helmet with water still inside of it. I lay on my back, unable to move, barely managing to keep my eyes open and my consciousness intact as I stare up at them: two People from Above, a man and a woman, that look exactly like those in the pictures I found. All of my pain is immediately forgotten as I realize that there's no doubt about it: I made it.

I try to smile at them, but perhaps I'm doing something wrong, because I'm met with looks that I can only describe as... Disgust? Or maybe that look means something else, and I just don't understand? Either way, I'm overcome with excitement the moment they take the bag from my hand — the one in which I put my favorite things from the ocean floor that I brought as a token of gratitude. The woman examines it, while a man gets something out of his clothes. It looks shiny and very thin, with a sharp point on top, but he holds it by the other half, which looks more like a smooth rock.

I observe the woman's reaction to my gift, and I can immediately tell that something is wrong. Her face looks... dissatisfied. With a careless motion, she throws my gifts back into the water, and I observe in silent despair as she waves her hand to the man dismissively. He, however, doesn't seem to care: his gaze is glued to me as he examines me with judgmental eyes. I hold my breath. Is he disappointed by the state of my outwater suit? Is he angry that I used some of the presents I found to make it? Was I not supposed to? Or did the gifts I brought in return offend him? Does the woman feel the same way? I want to apologize, to explain, to tell them everything — but I can't.

I watch as they call more people, and all of them look at me with the same expressions on their faces. But more than anything, they all look... Confused. They pull at my tail and limbs, knock on my helmet, and shout something at each other. Some of them laugh, and the others lick their lips. A wave of cold terror washes over me as I finally force myself to realize that none of them look happy when they look at me.

I don't know what I did wrong, and why they decided it would be for the best, but right before I would pass out from the pain, they pull the helmet off me. And as the air burns everything inside of me, I stare up at the very thing I've longed to see ever since I came to know of it's existence. The last thing I ever will see: the sky, unobscured by water.