Isle of Man by Ryan Winfield

Author:Ryan Winfield
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9780988348240
Publisher: Birch Paper Press
Published: 2013-04-13T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 10

The Isle of Man

Cold winds and high swells meet us in the Irish Sea.

This is a shame because I just catch a glimpse of the steep cliffs on Ireland’s distant southern coastline when the professor calls us down to close the hatch so we can dive.

It’s strange seeing everything for the first time. I have a strong sense of déjà vu because I’ve been building these images in my mind ever since I could read. And sometimes they’re just as I’d imagined. Other times, they’re not. The most shocking difference is that I always imagined the world in the past, as it was written about in the old books—a world filled with people. But not so up here now. Other than our misadventure with the ’Mericans, as they called themselves, we haven’t laid eyes on a single ship or any coastal signs of civilization for the twenty-three days we’ve been at sea. It’s a far cry from the busy but humdrum routine of my childhood life in Holocene II.

I’m in the head—that’s what the professor calls the shitter, although I don’t know why—when Jimmy comes knocking on the door.

“Hurry up,” he says.

“You feel sick, too?”

“No,” he shouts through the door. “We’re here.”

“Where?”

“The Isle of Man.”

Junior lies in the corner of the control room, chewing on something (probably the professor’s slipper), and Jimmy looks over the professor’s shoulder at the controls. I step up to the professor’s other shoulder and look over, too.

A pop-up LCD screen displays a rugged coastline covered in snow. And the snow is still falling, being driven in flurries by the wind, providing only peekaboo views through the digital periscope. Waves crash against rocks. Steep banks rise from the water. Hills roll inland like so many snow-covered swells.

“Doesn’t look very friendly,” I say.

“No,” the professor replies. “The weather is unfortunate. It’s usually much milder here, I think.”

“How big is it?” Jimmy asks.

The professor sighs. “Quite large, I’m afraid. I suggest we patrol the coastline at periscope depth. See what we can see.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” I say.

Other than brief restroom breaks and snack runs, we stay glued to the periscope’s screen. But my hopes sink with each passing kilometer. More jagged shoreline, more unwelcoming cliffs, and more falling snow. Eventually, Jimmy drifts away and passes the time by running down the passageways dragging his rabbit fur for Junior to chase. Every time they come skidding into the control room, the professor jumps with surprise then mumbles profanities, as if he were caught completely off guard, even though it just happened moments before. In time, Jimmy and Junior head off to hunt up food, and the professor nods off in his chair and snores. I stay alert and watch the screen.

It’s mesmerizing to stare at the coastline as it crawls by, its rugged beauty enhanced by the anticipation of what might roll next onto the scene. In a strange way, I feel like I’m back down in Holocene II, watching some ancient educational in our Level 3 theater.

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