In their own scatological vernacular, Richard and Michael were “scared shitless,” but their unspoken credo was to deny it. Just like their reaction to the perils of saturation diving they responded with a distorted macho bravado designed to conceal their true feelings.

“Do you think those girls we saw earlier will be here at the party?” Richard asked Michael. They had lagged a few steps behind the others en route to the celebration in the pavilion.

“We can always hope,” Michael responded.

They walked in silence for a few steps. They could hear Arak talking with Suzanne and Perry, but they didn’t care to listen.

“Do you really think we were asleep for over a month?” Michael asked.

Richard stopped short. “You’re not going soft on me, are you?”

“No!” Michael insisted. “I was just asking.” Sleep had never been the solace for Michael that it was for others. As a child he used to be plagued with nightmares. After he’d gone to sleep, his father would come home drunk and beat up his mother. When he woke up, he tried to intervene, but the result was always the same: he, too, was beaten. Unfortunately, the process of sleep got inextricably associated with these episodes, so for Michael the idea of being asleep for a month was a source of enormous anxiety.

“Hello!” Richard said while giving Michael a series of slaps on the face. “Anybody home?”

Michael deflected Richard’s irritating jabs. “Cut it out!”

“Remember, we’re not worrying about all this horseshit,” Richard said. “There’s something screwy going on here sure as shooting, but who cares. We’re going to enjoy ourselves, not like that jerk, Fuller. God! Just listening to him talk makes me glad we were tossed out of the freakin’ Navy. Otherwise we’d be taking orders from guys like him.”

“Of course we’re going to enjoy ourselves,” Michael insisted. “But I was just thinking, like, you know, it’s a long time to be zonked.”

“Well, don’t think!” Richard said. “You’ll get yourself all screwed up.”

“All right!” Michael said.

Suzanne called out for them to catch up; she and the others were waiting.

“And to top it all off, we got to deal with old mother hen,” Richard added.

The two divers caught up to the rest of the group, who’d stopped at the base of the steps leading up to the pavilion entrance.

“Is everything okay?” Suzanne asked them.

“Peachy,” Richard said, forcing a smile.

“Arak just told us something you two might find interesting,” Suzanne said. “I assume you’ve noticed how it is getting dark as if the sun had set.”

“We noticed,” Richard said testily.

“They have night and day down here,” Suzanne said. “And we learned the light comes from bioluminescence.”

The two divers tilted their heads back to look straight up.

“I see stars,” Michael said.

“Those are relatively small pinpoints of blue-white bioluminescence,” Arak said. “It was our intent to re-create the world as we knew it, which certainly included the circadian cycle. The difference from your world is that our days and nights are longer, and they are the same length year-round. Of course our years are longer as well.”

“So you lived in the external world before you moved down here,” Suzanne said.

“Absolutely,” Arak answered.

“When did you make the move?” Suzanne asked.

Arak held up his hands defensively. He laughed. “We are getting ahead of ourselves. I’m not supposed to be encouraging you to ask questions this evening. Remember, that’s to be tomorrow.”

“Just one more,” Perry pleaded. “It’s an easy one, I’m sure. Where do you get all your energy down here?”

Arak sighed with exasperation.

“It’s the last question, I promise,” Perry said. “At least for tonight.”

“And you are a man of your word?” Arak questioned.

“For sure,” Perry said.

“Our energy comes from two main sources,” Arak said. “First is geothermal by tapping the earth’s core. But that creates the problem of getting rid of excess heat, which we do in two ways. One by allowing magma to well up along what you people call the mid-oceanic ridge, and two by cooling with circulated seawater. The seawater heat exchange requires a large volume, which does provide us an opportunity to filter out plankton. The downside is that the process creates oceanic currents, but you people have learned to live with them, particularly the one you call the Gulf Stream.

“The second source of energy is from fusion. We split water into oxygen, which we breath, and hydrogen, which we fuse. But this is the kind of discussion we’ll be having tomorrow. Tonight I want you to experience and enjoy, mostly enjoy.”

“And we aim to do just that,” Richard said. “But tell me, is this going to be a wet or dry party?”

“I’m afraid that is a term I’m not familiar with,” Arak said.

“It refers generally to alcohol,” Richard said. “Do you people have any on hand?”

“But of course,” Arak said. “Wine, beer, and a particularly pure spirit we call crystal. The wine and the beer are similar to what you are used to. But the crystal is different, and I advise you to go easy until you are accustomed to it.”

“No need to worry, bro,” Richard said. “Michael and I are professionals.”

“Let’s party!” Michael said enthusiastically.

Perry and Suzanne had to be nudged forward. Both had been bowled over by Arak’s explanations, particularly Suzanne. All at once she had answers to two of the mysteries of oceanography, namely, why magma wells up at the mid-oceanic ridges and why there are oceanic currents, particularly the Gulf Stream. The answers to both questions had completely eluded scientists.

The group climbed the stairs with Arak in the lead. As they passed between two of the massive columns supporting the domed roof, Suzanne caught sight of Richard’s overeager expression. Worried what his conduct might be under the influence, she leaned toward him and whispered, “Remember to behave yourself.”

Richard glanced at her. His expression was one of scornful disbelief.

“I’m serious, Richard,” Suzanne added. “We have no idea what we are up against, and we don’t want to put ourselves in any more jeopardy than we already are. If you have to drink, do it sparingly.”

“Drop dead!” Richard said. He quickened his pace and caught up to Arak just as two oversized bronze doors swung open.

The first thing that greeted the visitors was the murmur of thousands of excited voices as they reverberated around the pavilion’s vast, white marbled interior. The level they’d entered formed a ballustraded balcony that ran around the circular hall. Together the group moved to the top of a grand staircase and looked down.

“Talk about a party!” Richard cried. “My god! There must be a thousand people here.”

“We could have had ten thousand if we’d had the room,” Arak told them.

In the center of the huge domed ballroom was a round pool illuminated in such a way as to make it appear like an enormous aquamarine cabochon jewel. Surrounding the pool was a foot-high, ten-foot-wide lip. Numerous stairways connected the balcony to the level below.

The floor of the pavilion was packed with people. Everyone was dressed in the same simple white satin outfits except for an occasional worker clone in their usual black. The worker clones were carrying large trays loaded with golden goblets and food. Each guest sported a velvet ribbon tied around his or her neck just like the one Arak had on. Only the color varied, not the size, the shape, or the way it was tied. And as before, everyone was strikingly beautiful or handsome.

Word that the visitors had arrived spread like wildfire through the crowd. Conversations stopped and faces tilted up. It was a dramatic sight to look down on so many silently expectant people.

Arak raised his hands over his head with his palms toward the audience. “Greetings to everyone! I am pleased to announce that all our visitors, save one, have graciously deigned to come to our celebration of their arrival to Saranta.”