The azure surface of the Atlantic Ocean ten thousand meters above parted twenty times in twenty minutes.
Down through the clear, starlight-illuminated water column descended a majestic fleet of fifty Taichu spirit-submersibles.
Each vessel was painted in gleaming pearl-white and gold, guided smoothly through the deep abyss by schools of glowing silver mer-dolphins and ancient sea-rays.
Inside the passenger cabins sat ten thousand men and women from one hundred and twenty nations.
They were marine biologists who had been fired for refusing to falsify toxic waste dumping reports for multinational oil cartels. They were clean-energy physicists whose geothermal and tidal patents had been suppressed by corporate conglomerates. They were ancient historians and archaeologists blacklisted by private auction houses for demanding the restitution of looted cultural heritage.
Every single passenger carried a green boarding pass stamped with an official, verified Goodness score between eighty and ninety-six.
When the lead submersible passed through the shimmering water-repelling gate of the Atlantis Crystal Dome, a collective sound of wonder filled the cabin.
“Look at the light...” an elderly oceanographer from Lisbon whispered, pressing his trembling hands against the reinforced viewport. “There is no gloom. The water is breathing with celestial starlight.”
