Chapter Text
Staring into the deep mysterious blue never lost its sense of wonder. Not for man or even for machines. LIDI was no exception. In the beginning, it was only a large mass of water. For her, it was just displaced air - the medium in which she traveled through. But over the span of two years, the sea became so much more. Not just data, but mystery. It was depth beyond what any camera or sensor could see.
“Everything alright down there, LIDI?”, a voice rang up on her comms.
“Oh, yes. Status normal,” she responded, still distracted by the abyss, “Thought I saw something.”
“Something? If it’s those sharks again we-”
“Not sharks, Peri. Just some blips on my sensors.”
“Oh. Alright. Don’t take too long on that last weld, ya hear? Crews’ gettin’ cranky,” Peri yawned audibly through his mic, “Ready for some shut-eye.”
“Sure. Shouldn’t be long.” She turned her attention away from the deep dark blue and shined her helmet-mounted light back to the cracked pipe. Shut-eye. Yeah right. She replayed recordings in her head of the crew playing cards and getting drunk while she finished welding. The arc from her welding rod revealed the brilliant blue of her visor and the rich orange on her chassis.
“You and the others certainly have a peculiar way of ‘resting’.” LIDI jabbed.
“Resting? Oh, ha! No, not me. Well, not usually.” Peri laughed sheepishly.
“Mhm.” Her rod continued to buzz. Peri paused for a minute before speaking again, his voice naturally hoarse.
“Really though. I’d hate to see those sharks give you trouble again. Sure, they’re curious, but I don’t wanna leave it up to chance. Ya know, I could always ask-”
“Hey, WINKLE!” a second voice was yelling on the mic, “That unit done yet? We really need to pull anchor!”
Peri nearly fell back in his chair, “Yes, yes! She’s almost done,” he stuttered, “Just need a few-”
“Done.” LIDI’s electrode powered off.
“She - she’s done.”
LIDI was back in the diving room. The lights still shining an awkward yellow, paired with a gentle hum from the nearby engine room. Small streaks of rust peeked out from its various pipes and fixtures.
A skiff swayed gently within the shallow pool of the larger vessel, taking up roughly a third of the space. In the middle of the landing was a diagnostics computer, with Peri diligently tapping away at it. On occasion, the monitor would freeze, but it was nothing a good smack couldn’t fix. He did exactly that.
“I don’t know why you always bother running a full scan,” said LIDI, standing in her dock right next to Peri, “We both know I only need one every month or so.”
“Heh. I dunno either. I just care, I guess.” He smirked at her comment, the smile adding more wrinkles to his elderly complexion. Peri Winkle was a gentle and quirky soul, like that of a fun-loving grandfather who had the grandchildren over every weekend, if he had any. Or children, for that matter.
He readjusted the glasses resting on his big nose, “How’s the flux on that welder?”
“Still fluxing,” muttered LIDI, half annoyed.
“Great,” Peri typed a few more lines into the computer, “Alright. Let’s get that power pack off of ya and call it a night.”
LIDI tilted her head up slightly, “Actually, I planned on walking the ship tonight.”
“What? Now hold on, you’ve been operatin’ for 48 hours straight. We need that power pack-”
“I know. We can take off the pack. Let it charge. I’ll just be walking the deck for a few minutes, and then I’ll be back on my dock,” she interjected.
“LIDI . . .” Peri crossed his arms and looked at her sternly. His grey mustache contorted slightly.
“Please?” LIDI gently pressed her palms together. He couldn’t see her face behind that helmet, but he knew it was her “puppy dog” eyes. Peri grumbled and looked away. She knew full-well that Mr. Winkle had a soft spot for her.
“Gah. If I had kids, I’d know better not to give in to a beggar,” He scratched his head and started walking up to the catwalk, “If I find you keeled over on the railing again, then that’s it. Ya hear?”
“Thank you, Peri,” her voice was still monotone, but with a hint of sweetness.
LIDI found herself sauntering along the ship’s starboard side - her hand sliding on the railing. It was a dark night at sea like any other, interrupted only by the lights spread across the walkway and the bulbs that tipped the various antennas. The RV Esperanza IV was old but well maintained - orange, white, and blue just like LIDI. Intentional, to be sure. Her gaze wandered off into the pitch black waters occasionally speckled by white foam.
Three hundred twenty-two walks. She logged. Since Hawaii. Chile. The Barrier Reef. She slowed, letting the metal underfoot speak through her joints. I’ll probably do the same after Florida. She paused, unsure why the thought lingered. How many more will there be? She let her processors rest awhile more and turned her attention towards the sky. One by one, the stars revealed themselves as they sailed farther from the nearest coastline. LIDI was never programmed with knowledge about astronomy or the constellations, but she appreciated the stars nonetheless.
As the waters began to mirror the sky above, LIDI could hear faint laughter in the distance. Interesting. She paid it no mind - for now. It would be nice to have more research assignments. Repair jobs are getting stale. The idea surfaced to her central processors.
For some months now, the ship had slowly gained more repair related contracts. She knew exactly why this was. She simply wished it wasn’t. She remembered her early days on this ship. Scanning the seafloor, mapping out underwater caves, even identifying sealife within a newly formed channel.
More laughter erupted from around the corner, disturbing her thoughts. Great. She was close enough to hear bits of banter, and reluctantly took a few more steps forward to investigate. It was two of the crew members. One of them was practically on the floor with a knee to the ground and a hand on the nearest wall. He had rosy cheeks and a thin blonde mustache with ruffled hair to match. Some light stains decorated his plain sweater. Behind him was an older and more portly gentleman sporting a peach polo.
“It’s crazy man I’m telling you they cheated or something man!” chuckled the blonde man. His speech was slurred.
“Forget it, pata. Tienes que comer. Just a bite.” The larger gentleman wrapped an arm underneath his friend’s shoulders and pulled him to his feet.
“HAHAHAA! You totally saw me, though. I was like BIG HOU- uh FULL HOUSE! Heheh,” the blonde man blurted, “Somehow I STILL OH FFFfff- shoot, it’s the welder bot!” He gestured vaguely in LIDI’s direction. She stood there motionless. Servos locked.
Against her better judgement, she followed protocol and asked, “Is he injured?”
“Ah, no. He’s just a little, you know . . . intoxicated.” said the portly gentleman, keeping his friend upright as best he could and took a few awkward steps forward.
The blonde placed a sloppy hand on LIDI’s faceplate as they walked by and mumbled, “That's a really cool helmet man, I want that helmet! Also WHY are you shaped like a lady? A PRETTY lady? That’s weird man, kinda weird.”
Wow. Disgusting. LIDI thought. She stepped to the side to give the pair room to pass - more for her own comfort than theirs. “This gear is not designed for human-wear,” she stated coldly, “ I also recommend getting him below deck as soon as possible. Impaired motor skills and turbulent seas are not a good combination.”
The bigger gentleman waved her off, “Yeah, thanks.”
They disappeared around the corner, but their shuffling and drunken banter still lingered. LIDI never bothered to learn the crews’ names. Faces changed every month. It wouldn’t matter anyway. She was a part of the crew more than any of them would ever be. Except for Peri.
She turned to head back to the railing when a small ping registered on her sensors. She paused. A tiny crack had developed near the base of the closest wall. She knelt down to investigate. Strange, but not unusual. It could wait.
Without rushing, she made her way back to the starboard railing. The stars were clearer now. After each calculated step, she would alternate her view between the sky and the sea.
Celestial bodies. Distance: undetermined.
Ocean floor. Depth: One-point-four kilometers.
No. Three hundred meters. That was odd.
Three hundred meters? Submerged watercraft? A reef? No.
LIDI leaned over the railing, her attention now fully-absorbed by the anomaly. A quiet symphony of ticking and whirring went off in her helmet. Her LIDAR entered full-cycle.
Three hundred meters.
Two hundred meters.
Two - no. Three large bodies.
“What . . . are you?” LIDI whispered, her voice edged with excitement.
One hundred eighty three meters.
One hundred forty seven meters.
More now. A whole pod of seven. Ninety six meters.
With a sudden burst of tidal strength, a single gargantuan whale exploded to the surface, reaching what must have been at least fifty feet high. It was quite long - even for a whale - with a smooth and slender beak to match. LIDI observed in awe. It hadn’t breached merely to breathe. It was making a statement. A declaration. Perhaps a “hello”. Form and function.
The rest of the pod followed suit. Amazing. LIDI thought. She would have dove straight into the waters to say hello were it not for her battery. She was already nearly over the railing. With every amp remaining in her frame, she wished to stay within the company of the whales for just a bit longer, but she knew better.
Slowly, she sauntered backwards to the ship’s rear, never breaking sight of the pod. Each whale groaned and called to one another. She could only guess what they were saying. How beautiful. As she found herself close to the stairs towards the lower deck, the whales slowly vanished back into the black waters. That’s alright. She thought. Maybe next time I’ll say hello.
I’ll have more walks.