Excerpts from
The Emperor's Atlas
By Ib Michael
He checked the
depth -- 49 metres.The oxygen cylinder
was well down.Because of the pressure
it goes down fast at this depth, and every breath he took from the mouthpiece
would blow his lungs to buggery up on the surface - it would be like putting
compressed air into a balloon. He
tilted his head back and panned up towards the surface, which was dancing like
a tiny silver underbelly at the end of a long tunnel. He felt exhilarated and light-hearted.
Then he froze. A diver was swimming down towards him,
surrounded by flickering light. The sun
must have broken through the ceiling of cloud. He felt his breathing quicken slightly. The diver came nearer, motioned to him and pointed downwards. It had to be Jui. The high cheekbones and the mongoloid eyes seemed even larger in
the mask.He relaxed and hung in the
water while looking down to see what she was pointing at.
Blue, it was all blue, and he was
unable to pick anything out.
She swept past him, motioning him to
follow.There was a huge expanse above
him, beneath him, on all sides, he was the centre of a circle without a
circumference, wherever he moved, and that is the compelling mystery of the
deep. He followed her. Could feel the diver’s high coming on. His head whirled blissfully, a luminous
wedge shape stood out on her diving suit, showing a neon yellow trident. Everything was dancing in front of his eyes,
dancing inside him, he was flying and his arms were bent back like the fins of
a hammerhead shark. The shepherdess
would lead him back to the flock, no, she knew the entrance to the secret
garden….
The pipes of the organ began to
play. Somewhere distant at the back of
his brain an alarm bell was ringing. But if she could, then he could, too. He could see the calm strokes of her fins. The luminous geometrical shape had changed colour again. The outline of the water she had stirred up
looked like a cuttlefish in a mating ritual, with a brilliant rainbow all
around. Wow! The movement of the flippers, the ripple of muscles under the
diving suit and right up to the unbelievably well proportioned buttocks, it was
enough to take his breath away. A chain
of bubbles emerged from the zip at the back of her suit, soared upwards, and
tickled him under his nose like the fizz from a fizzy drink.
It was as if the whole of the cliff
wall was ridged with pipes, and the colours and the sounds intermingled. They were playing organ chorales. New colours streamed out of the pipes with
every note that was played and the notes rose up into the air enclosed in soap
bubbles.
They came to a shelf where the cliff
wall plummeted into a perpendicular freefall. It was from here that the pillar of coral rose towards the light. He found himself at the foot of the organ,
which in itself was as big as a cathedral. Gaudi’s wildest dream, la familia
sagrada. A bitter-sweet smile forced
itself around the mouthpiece. Everything was like a mirror reflection, the cellalur units of words and
meanings fragmented and became myriads, a tingle-tangle of amoeba.
He sniggered. The coral and the parrot fish and the naked
snail fish. The picasso fish, My God,
there was even something called the picasso fish! Of course it was him who painted them all. He began to smile, lost his mouthpiece, but
managed to grab it. Piece of cake!
There was a bit with a sandy
ledge. A great gaggle of eels spilled
out of their holes and began to dance on the tips of their tails, swaying
forwards and backwards like seaweed plants. It looked totally out of control and yet in fact there was no frenzy.
She turned around and hung there
briefly. There was a diadem of starfish on her forehead. She waved him over and turned back round.
"Follow me!"- scratched with a diamond on the window of time. The
expanse beneath was a rich, enticing colour.
He put his arms out ready for freefall - and threw himself off the
ledge. His face puckered as if he were
a parachutist on his way down from a great height. She turned round again, lay on her back and stretched her arms
out towards him. He could hear the
silver bells ringing on her fingers.
Then he caught sight of the little
square box on her stomach regulating the oxygen mixture and he sobered up in an
instant.
Nitrox, for fuck’s sake, she was
using nitrox! She could go down to
depths he couldn't even get anywhere near. Where was he and how long was it since he last checked?
He felt a sudden grip close around
his wrist. It wasn’t Jui. The
eleventh hour is time for revenge. She took off her mouthpiece and showed him
her pierced tongue.
She dragged him down with her to
below 100 feet before he managed to fight her off. He had to sacrifice his camera to get away. She made no attempt to attack him; no knife
cut into his air pipe. It wasn't
necessary. She waved to him a last time
before she disappeared into the deep blue sea and they became as one.
Now I’m alone, he thought, and
that’s because I'm going to die!
He no longer had any sense of what
was up and what was down. He took his bearings from the bubbles slipping
upwards and making dark stains on the silver. The higher they went, the bigger they were. The air in the cylinder was hard to inhale and was running out.
He couldn't see the surface and he seriously
doubted whether he would be able to manage a free ascent from that depth. His mind was bloody ice cold clear, he
kicked the diver’s high.
The oxygen cylinder ran out. The rubber flap pinged as he drew on the
remainder.
Toke clung to the bubbles, kicking
himself up with leaden legs. He still
had some air in his lungs, he opened his mouth and let it out, and moved
upwards at the same speed. He got rid
of the oxygen cylinder and took the lead weights out of his vest pockets.
He tried to do everything with slow,
calm movements, knowing that every movement used up the body’s last reserves of
oxygen. He forced himself now and then
to hit out with his fins, robust, complete strokes to get the whole way up. Just keep your head clear and tell yourself
that there is enough air. Don't panic
for Christ’s sake!
It
began to go black in front of his eyes. A flash in the brain, then one more. The pressure increased as if it was going to force out his eyeballs. He gritted his teeth. All around him the water felt like rubber.
The valves of his heart fluttered faintly - as if someone had fixed an iron
cage around his torso and kept tightening it. His chest mirrored the movements of his breathing and his throat ached
with the desire to take a breath NOW. He went into an unendingly tall cathedral and finally saw his
salvation in a crown of calcium high above him.
Toke lost
consciousness.
Translated by Don Bartlett
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