Beacon of Light in the Dark Sea

Prologue

Prologue

The deep sea refers to depths below 200m. Which begs the question, how far can humans truly descend? The ocean’s surface is a sight to behold, akin to scattered diamonds reflecting the sun’s endless light. It sparkles radiantly, bedecked in gold and silver tones so dazzling that they can blind one’s vision.

If one were to dip their body up to their waist, the sunlight would seep into the water, allowing the observer to perceive the vibrant hues and brightness. The reflected light may appear greenish or transparent, or when there is an abundance of sediment, it could be murky, with the ocean floor and blue waves visible. However, it wouldn’t be considered ‘deep’ just yet. Beneath the surface, warm-blooded creatures flourish in the sea, accompanied by an overwhelming soundscape of all kinds of noises that resonate amidst the blinding brightness.

As one delves further, the darkness intensifies. The blue shade transforms into green or murky tones, ranging from turquoise to navy blue. One can inhale deeply, submerge, and rely on the power of their lower extremities to ascend toward the light.

In the calmness, a slight ascent leads to light and noise with ease. The path upward from below remains unbarred, and descending back carries no repercussions. Although the sea provides infinite mercy to the beings resting beneath its belly, it marks the extent of the land creatures’ enjoyment of it. Even crocodiles and hippos cannot dive any deeper, and beyond this point, the sea withdraws its previous inclusivity, revealing only cruelty lying bare.

Going deeper still, one enters a realm deserving of the term “diving.” The darkness intensifies to a deep navy or dark green, and visibility is limited, to the point where you might not discern your own limbs. Though obscure and silent, it is still a stage where you can anticipate what lies ahead.

Terrestrial creatures reside in this sea by means of air tubes, not their lungs. This is the domain of marine life and where most seafood consumed by humans is found. A noisy yet tranquil place, a frigid and sunless ocean.

Venturing even further, one delves into a domain of mysteries, a place where creatures that have shunned living under the sun’s rays thrive. Since no light penetrates this depth, creatures with blind eyes or those who have no need for sight can flourish without any hindrances.

Enveloped in serene, unbroken darkness lies countless shipwrecks, treasures, corpses, and secrets concealed. It is a place that renders ascending back to the surface as an unfeasible feat, once you have descended. The bottommost point, an underworld within the underworld, a geographical abyss. If asked how far down you’ve fallen, you can only answer that you’ve reached the source of water in the depths of the sea, a region closest to the centermost of the stars. No sound of screams reverberates in the boundless depths of the sea, where black gold and oil seep beneath the ground.

In reality, I lived a life unrelated to oil or natural gas. Although objects made from petroleum byproducts overflowed around me in the modern 21st century, I never really thought about what plastic resin was and what was synthetic fiber, nor did I need to. I only knew that petroleum extraction ingredients were used to create disposable items or medicines like aspirin because of my job. That was the extent of my knowledge.

I took a position that focused on using oil rather than mining it. When I filled my car with gas, I didn’t have to think about where it was extracted from, how refined it was, or where it was mined from in the ocean. My life didn’t require such thoughts.

Therefore, when I found myself submerged in the depths of the ocean, with oil rigs drilling a mere distance away next to me, the true enormity of my predicament dawned on me.

Growing up in the city, I barely knew how to swim, let alone had knowledge about the sea, less alone about oil. Whenever I consumed seafood or embarked on excursions, the sea never crossed my mind. My only recollections were of the beautiful beaches and underwater scenery in the Mediterranean that I saw on television. For me, the ocean was simply a holiday destination and the habitat of seafood.

If I were to express the feeling of being stuck in the abyss where the sunlight didn’t reach, it would be simply unsettling. It wasn’t like “Oh, I somehow got stuck here.” By the time I had fully comprehended the gravity of the situation, I was already in the deep sea. It felt like I had plunged into an endless, dark pit, and the feelings of emptiness and terror that typically come with such a fall were tangibly present in the ocean.

Terrestrial creatures constantly long for the ocean, yet they can never go back prior to the instance when they were immersed in its waters.