Underwater!

I look out over Downtown Soma, and it reminds me of my hometown. No, not the City of Rivers and not the Jung. Further back. The one my folks are from. Blackwater, it’s called. That one.

At then end of the millennium, it flooded. Blackwater flooded. The entire city was underwater. You could see it from my aunt’s back porch. This is like that, but it is Downtown. In Soma.

Downtown is one of those things that is beyond iconic; it’s archetypal. You might think I’m being a pretentious word-nerd here, and, fuckitall, maybe so, but there’s an important bardo here, a distinction of space between meanings. A downtown is ancestral, and a submerged one is liminal; or, I suppose, quite literally subliminal.

Before we got here—to the underwater downtown—we were at the Brubaker, in my room. Well, in my closet, which is rather spacious. I’ve spent so much time in there, after all, it’s got to have a lot to it. Anyway, you pull one item from one of the hanging racks, and look at it, ask me what it is.

It’s mostly straps and a harness, some tubing and some small circular studs. Or maybe they’re clasps. You aren’t sure.

“That’s a chemical harness,” I say. I’m naked, by the way. I know the psychological quality of apperception makes us visualize folks in clothes unless we’re specifically told not to, which is why I bothered to say.

What’s a chemical harness? you ask.

I say that it’s just what it says on the tin: a harness that you wear that injects you with chemicals.

What sort of chemicals? you ask.

“The performance enhancing kind,” I say with a smirk.

You make a face. What that face means is up to you, of course.

“It’s more like microdosing,” I say. “Or, well … minidosing, anyway.”

I appear to think on it some more, then amend, “Not really … Yeah, not really. They just bullshitted us.”

Who? you ask.

“The Ministry,” I say and grab a pair of Beatle boots from a high shelf, giving you a good look at my ass, my legs, and my back tatt. By the by, I don’t personally think my ass is much to look at. Kina flat. Not flat-flat—not like proper mom ass—but it’s kina flat. At least I think so. Ass shape is pretty subjective in many cases that aren’t the extremes, I’ve learned.

What ministry? you ask. Like a religious thing?

I ask if you’re American, and you say what you say.

“I ask,” I say, “because Americans seem to always think the Ministry is a religious thing. It’s a bureaucratic thing. The Ministry of Secrets. The Galactic has lots of Ministries. Europeans and Asians get this right away, but Americans don’t. It’s like a governmental department, basically.”

Galactic? you say, then ask if this is, like, a sci-fi thing.

I roll my eyes, then smile. “Yeah, I guess so. But for real. Most countries have ministries, even in your time.”

You ask if we have countries in my time.

“No,” I go. “We have planets, though, which are basically the same thing.”

You say that must be a lot to manage—a whole planet.

I shrug. “No idea. I hate politics and government. I’m an anarchist, baby.”

You might ask me some questions about it, but I just wave them away, saying, “I don’t wanna talk about that right now. Help me put the harness on.”

You might wonder—and maybe even ask—if I really need help putting it on. After all, didn’t I use this as part of my work regularly?

I grin and say, “Aren’t you pretty.”

You can either help me put it on—in any way you like—or tell me to do it myself, in which case I will pretend to pout a little, and say, “Fine. Be that way.”

Anyway, so that’s how I got the chemical harness on, m’kay?

That was, as I said, back at the Brube. Now we’re at the underwater downtown. Remember? I don’t want to lose you, babe. So I’m trying to keep you in the loop.

We have some diving gear, too, which we got … somewhere, I dunno. Doesn’t matter. You can make that part up if it’s important to you.

We’re there, by the water’s edge, in skintight suits and ready to do some underwater explo … at least I’m ready.

“You ready?” I ask.

If you are, then you say or gimme a thumbs up or something.

If you’re not, then let’s take care of whatever issue it is, then we’ll say you are, okay?

“Down we go,” I say.

Play procedures

• If you have unlocked telepathy from another chapter, then we can communicate underwater that way. Otherwise, we have comlinks cos that’s what they have in movies and video games, and it makes for easier storytelling, right?
• Your inventory is probably truncated in the underwater portion of this story path, since we are in diving gear. So be sure to take that into consideration before going to the submerged city. Also, plan ahead for how you can bring back anything you might want from down there. If you haven’t worked out an inventory management system, now might be a good time. I like the Knave-style system of slots, but you do you, babe.