"Hello, old man." Simon stares at the man hard. Unlike the usual person, he can see his face. The wrinkles. The eyes hardened by life. The downturned mouth and super pale skin. This happens with all those who have the Levy. Nobody has found the reason why.

"The ocean. It cries. It screams. It whails!" The old man flails his hands to the sky, "Why do you ignore it, abyss walker?"

Simon sighs. All these people are insane. They cry and scream, out of fear and anger. Even if their babble has some truth to it, there's nothing anyone can do about it. I wish they would disappear. They do nothing but disturb the ongoings of the city.

Simon pats the man's shoulder, "Yeah, yeah. Doom and gloom. If you have any complaints talk to HR." He turns to leave, but the old man grabs his wrist, causing Simon to jump, a spike of fear bolting through him.

He chuckles nervously, "Could you let go? My brother still needs dinner." He tries to pull his hand away, but the Levy-stricken man's hand is firm with a strength he shouldn't have. He pulls Simon down to eye level. Simon can't help but look at him. His eyes. Their clear with purpose. With anger. With fear.

"Are you afraid of the ocean, boy?" His raspy voice scrapes through Simon's ears as a chill runs down his spine.

He doesn't want to answer, but his gut tells him to. "Yes." He whispers. The old man smiles. Not one of happiness. No, it's something much more sinister. "You would do well to keep that fear. It will save you when you least expect it. Something this city has forgotten."

The moment passes and the man releases him, going back to his preaching. Simon backs away, goosebumps traveling up his arm.

What the hell was that? He doesn't ponder the question, deciding to run as fast as he can home, the old man's gaze seared into his mind.

*********************

"Oof, rough night?" A faceless man dressed in a silver tuxedo asks.

"You have no idea." Simon sighs, dressed in a more casual outfit of black jeans and a red t-shirt. He rubs his eyes before taking a sip from his coffee. I kept having nightmares of the abyss. I have that old man to thank.

"Tell me about it." The man takes a sip from his cup, the two sitting in a cafe situated in one of the large parks of the resident dome.

Simon shakes his head, "You wouldn't understand, Baron." Regular people don't have nightmares. They don't even know what those are. Like the old man said, the people here don't have fears. The only ones I know of who do are dome techs. And the Levys.

The man shrugs, "Any plans?"

Simon leans back in his chair with a sigh, the perfect and warm temperature relaxing him, "I have a meeting with command. Something about my team going into the dead zone."

Baron grunts in response, standing and smoothing out his suit, "Bet that'll be fun. I, on the other hand, have some clients to entertain."

Simon waves him off, "Yeah, yeah. Go sing or whatever." The young man walks off, whistling a merry tune. The dome tech leans his head back, staring at the fake blue sky. I wonder what the real one looks like? He shakes the thoughts away. It is not the first time he has had such thoughts. Thoughts he never had before going into the ocean for the first time. Now he daydreams about the surface and what is up there on a daily basis. A mental disease dome techs call sky disorder.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

With a groan Simon stands, leaving his quiet spot and heading for his car. The vehicle slides up as he reaches the curb. Another day, another dollar. He's silent as the car drops him off at the command tower base. Hundreds of people enter and exit the building, the mumble of voices mixing. Not too far in his team sits in the main hall, a large marble lounge with over a dozen elevators consistently bringing people up and down.

Martin notices him first, "There's the rookie. Took you long enough." He claps Simon on the shoulder who moves to stand behind their Captian.

"I apologize for being late. I had to take my brother to school this morning."

His Captain waves a hand dismissively, "No problem, no problem. We all have mornings like that. Now that everyone is here, it's time to get our assignment. I trust you all rested well these last three days?"

The five reply in confirmation, each one wearing their wetsuits under their casual clothes. "Good. We will be having our meeting on floor six seventy."

The only redheaded member speaks up, "Do we know what our mission is? I've only heard rumblings about the dead zone, but nothing more."

The older man walks towards an elevator, the team following, "Sorry, Gin. You know as much as me."

The entire group sighs. Command is always so stingy on details. Would it kill them to prep us? Simon can't help but think. It takes the elevator twenty minutes to reach their floor, and when it opens their commander stands waiting. Dressed in a deep blue overcoat and dress pants, he has dozens of medals situated on his uniform, with gold shoulder pads to signify his importance. Simon always thought the Commanders looked stupid in their make-pretend awards.

"Jost, care to explain your tardiness?" There is some contempt in his voice. Simon knows the Commander is glaring daggers into the group.

The Captain bows his head, "My apologies. One of our members had a family issue."

The man hums disapprovingly, "Make sure it doesn't happen again. Those lacking are prone to mishaps in the field, and I need not remind you how devastating those can be."

The Captain nods and the Commander turns, the group following after. "What a dick," Martin whispers to Tarma who chuckles quietly. They enter a dark room, which is quickly lit up as a hologram turns on, depicting the great dome.

"We would have more time to talk if you had not been late, but it is no matter. Let us cut right to the details." The entire team visibly relaxes. Good thing we were late. The upper ranks love to drove on and on. Simon sighs as the Commander begins.

"Your objective today is the reclaiming of the submersible factory fifteen miles out." The hologram zooms onto a building outside the commerce dome area. "It has recently been uncovered thanks to the recent current storms. You are to each man a submarine, piloting it back to the main moonpool on the industrial side."

The entire team groans, "You have got to be kidding. That's on the opposite side of the city! If those things even work that would take at least sixteen hours!" Marco complains. Martin nods his head in agreement.

"We'd be lucky to even reach the dome. God knows how much fuel those things have left." Tarma almost shouts.

The Commander clears his throat, silencing the protest, "You will not be going alone. A sea treader squad will accompany you. This mission is vital. It has been thirty years since the factory was covered and our current supply is getting low. Need I remind you that without those submarines we cannot mine?"

Tarma shakes his head, crossing his arms, "That's not fair. It's not our fault command has been over-taxing the subs. If you guys would just recall the fleet for a few months for repairs we wouldn't be in this situation." The rest of the group loudly agrees.

"QUIET!" The Commander bellows, silencing the room. "I did not come here to argue semantics with you. You are one of the few teams who has experience in the dead zone. This is not a request but an order. You WILL go retrieve those submarines. Go to your Mag room and await further instructions." Simon clenches his jaw. He wants to bite back but knows nothing good will come of it. Commanders don't typically show emotion, but theirs was a dome tech so he tends to be more volatile and hardened by the abyss.

The group grumbles as they leave, walking through the steel hallways to the elevators. They reach their room on floor nine hundred and two. After the first two miles of office spaces and the like, the remaining two miles of the Great Pillar are used for dome techs and other dome-related jobs. Once the team has arrvied at their designated mag room they take their clothes off, exposing the wetsuits. With nothing left to do, they sit and wait.