As I drifted off to sleep beside the fire, I went over the events of the night, one at a time. I sank into a state of deep contemplation, where the awareness of myself intensified in an odd way.


    Here is what I’m trying to say: Perhaps the combined exhaustion and anxiety at being stranded in the middle of nowhere, alone, I began to dream while awake, I thought, but I still gazed at the fire before me, and at times I stood up and paced, but as I filed through my memories and reached the part of the story where our submarine sank towards bottom of the sea.


    That was the initial descent. But I perceived the events differently in hindsight.


    Most of the events were just as I thought, but in some cases, the events split. I could remember two different versions of the same events.


    The story I told you so far is the first version. We sank to around 2000 meters below sea-level, and then performed an exchange with a foreign submarine, but if you remember, I thought the events were derived from some kind of hidden logic, like a behavioral cypher, to keep the crew from understanding the real meaning behind this exchange.


    In the second version of that memory, we sank to 2000 meters below sea level and received the first transmission from the foreign submarine. Then the captain ordered us deeper. At first the crew protested. Our sub wasn’t built for depths far below 2200 meters, and the buffer zone only took us to 2250 meters. These were figures that the crew had memorized. But the captain reassured them it was safe. The buffer is guaranteed down to 2250 meters.


    In reality, he said, the submarine could travel deeper without suffering structural damage. 2300 meters would be reasonable, for instance. 2500 meters was probably safe as well. At a certain depth, the pressure increases more slowly.


    The captain told us he only planned to visit 2250 for a brief moment. Satisfied, the crew took us down.


    Here the captain ordered the crew to hold our position, while he took myself and the first mate into the lab. The lights were dim, here, at the bottom of the sea. The captain closed the door, and the sound of the crew went away.


    The lab was located far away from the engines, so the silence was almost complete except for the thwacking sound that echoed through the miles of water. I was suddenly viscerally aware of how fast sound traveled underwater. Without a word the first mate walked toward the back wall of the lab. He passed the shelves and stainless steel table, all cramped together, and came to specimen airlock.


    This submarine was custom fitted with a specimen airlock. Something was exchanged, in a lockbox, through the specimen airlock, at a depth where it''s safe to dive, in the first version of this memory. Standing in front of the airlock, the first mate pulled it’s lever. The lever was stuck. Placing both hands against the lever, he strained against the stainless steel. Finally, it screeched open.


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    The first mate gasped and bent double for a moment, hands on knees. Then he stood lifted one foot up onto the lip of the stainless steel table. His face turned toward us as he clambered onto the table. The blood had drained completely from his face.


    Next his knee got up on the table, and he began to crawl backwards into the airlock. First one leg, searching blindly for the back of the airlock. Then his other leg. He bent at the knee, and pushed himself backwards using only his hands. His legs were now completely trapped in the stainless steal cylinder. Last, he stuck both arms into the cylinder and gripped the ribbed sides, pulled his torso into the airlock, until only curly hair stuck out the top.


    At this point, the captain made a move toward the airlock. I snatched at his arm, but he caught my wrist. My other first hooked him in the jaw. Blood oozed from his lip, but he pushed me and I sat down hard on the steel bench. Two of the crew sat down with me, and held my arms by my sides.


    My head leaned against the metal wall. Sweat poured down my back and neck. Lights blinked overhead, dimmer than ever. I could do nothing but watch. I closed my eyes and saw the man trapped inside the airlock: The captain walked to the airlock and closed the door. The door was two inches thick, of solid steel. Just shy of closing, the door swung into the man’s head, stretching his cramped neck to the side. The captain gathered his strength and pushed the door closed. A muffled cry escaped the airlock.


    I imagined myself cramped in that airlock. I needed the first mate to force the door back open, but his arms and legs were pinned. Then the captain turned his lever. The lever turned slowly. The captain was breathing hard. Another cry escaped the airlock, but sounded like it was coming from underground. Then another, higher in pitch. The man’s heart was beating faster. His stomach churned. Fear rose in his throat like bile, like a bot boiling over. Once the fear took hold, it strangled him. The screams didn’t stop after that. They were so quiet, but impossible to ignore. The captain made a gesture and two sailors pulled me to my feet, and led me to the airlock. I shivered. The remaining sailors stood by, watching me impassively. The captain withdrew a black leather bag. Inside were a number of medical devices. He pulled a stethoscope from inside, and put it on me. The sailors held my arms. Then he held the stethoscope up to the airlock. My heart sank. A hiss like boiling water filled my ears. The screams were clear now but still quiet. Something banged against the inside of the airlock, again and again, over and over. Each bang, the scream cut out. Then it picked up again. I shivered. I felt my stomach rise. The men held my arms tight. I couldn’t get free. I shook my head from side to side. The captain gripped my head, four fingers on each wide, splayed above my ears. He was careful not to cover my ears, or to disrupt in any way the placement of the stethoscope in them. I don’t know how long they held me. I vomited. Then I vomited again, all over the captain. But he didn’t move. His boots turned to a blur before my eyes. The smell faded into nothing. The banging faded after a while, quieter, but the screams would not end. He choked inside the airlike, a scream cut short. I heard the sound of vomit. My own stomach heaved, but I had nothing. Bile pushed halfway up my throat and stayed there. Tears streaked down my face. My eyes and nose stung.


    When they removed the stethoscope, I went limp.


    The sounds of the submarine returned to my ears, but I couldn’t comprehend them. Random beeping and whirring, like white noise to me. I realized it was silent. With a great effort, the captain moved the lever on the airlock, and pulled the door. His boots were sticky with vomit. The door swung open, and the first mate’s head lolled out. His forehead was red all over. His eyes were red. Half-congealed blood dropped from his palms. His the fingernails on his right hand were ripped partway off. His eyes were open, unblinking. His forehead was a mess of dark, bruised flesh, and blood. I don''t know. Maybe the head-banging killed him.