The Depths

by John Creasey

  They were in a small expanse of water, in a kind of land-locked harbour. They were on the surface of this water, and the other craft were already alongside a small quay. Leah was being lifted out. Higgins was helped out by the man who had been in his craft. The man behind Palfrey said:

  “I will help you.”

  “I’m all right,” Palfrey said. “Quite all right. Was that—a snorkel?”

  “A development of it,” answered the man, casually. “We have a method of passing out of deep water in the Deep Citadel. When I draw alongside, step out, please.”

  Palfrey obeyed.

  The floor was not slippery, and he had not been touched by a drop of water from the moment that he had entered the small submarine. The pilots, or whatever they were called, wore short pale grey-green tunic uniforms; they were quite dry. Higgins was being led through a small doorway, rather like the hatch of a gangway on board an ordinary ship. The doctor was stepping through. Palfrey followed him. He had to bend his head, and even then scraped the top of it against the door frame. Once through, however, he was able to stand up. The man who had brought him here had disappeared, but another man came up.

  “You are welcome, Dr Palfrey.”

  “Thank you,” Palfrey said.

  “The Patriarch will see you at once.”

  “The Patriarch,” Palfrey echoed, and just stopped it from sounding like a question. “Yes, of course.” He walked on. Soon, he saw a kind of restaurant on one side, stepped through another doorway, and saw what might be a recreation room, with a television screen in it; the screen was blank. A dozen or so men and women dressed much as his escort, were sitting about. No one took any notice of him.

  The guide raised his hand, and a door slid open. Two men were on the far side, and he had the impression that they were guards.

  Palfrey stepped through.

  Ahead of him was Higgins. In front of Higgins, standing upright, and dressed in one of the uniforms, was Julia Shawn. She looked at Palfrey but did not move towards him, and she showed no pleasure at sight of him. By her side was one of the men like those who had piloted Palfrey down from the surface of the sea.

  Palfrey said quietly: “Hallo, Julia.”

  She gave a half smile – little more than a curve of her lips.

  Then a man came through a doorway on the other side of the room, into a kind of alcove where there was a large desk. At the corners of the desk were precious stones, on the walls were more precious stones – diamonds, rubies, pearls and emeralds and others which Palfrey did not recognise. The effect was one of fabulous treasure. On the man’s head was a crown of jewels – a crown which was like a trident.

  Palfrey found himself breathing very hard.

  He recognised Garri-Garri, who stared at him with great intentness. At that moment, only Garri-Garri was important. Julia was not, nor the young man with her, nor Higgins, nor any of those who were in attendance. Just Garri-Garri. He stood taller than Palfrey, quite beautifully proportioned. His tunic, like that of the other men in design and in colour, was trimmed with precious stones which glistened and glittered like a rainbow.

  The effect was strange; it was almost as if he had a halo created by the glow from the jewels of the crown.

  He said: “Why did you bring this man, Palfrey?”

  “He told me that he would give up his life cheerfully if he could live long enough to see what you have done,” answered Palfrey. “He is Dr Ephraim Higgins, who sees you—”

  Palfrey hesitated, half closed his eyes, and then went on firmly: “Who sees you as the Master of the Human Race.”

  Garri-Garri said: “I am its Master.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  THE MAN WHO COULD LIVE FOR EVER

  “I am its Master,” Garri-Garri said.

  He stood imperiously, much as an emperor of ancient Rome must have stood, proud and arrogant and absolutely sure of himself; and in that confidence, Palfrey prayed, there were the seeds of his weakness and his destruction.

  “Do you hear me, Palfrey?”

  “Yes,” Palfrey said. “Yes, I can hear.”

  “I am its Master, and if it becomes necessary I shall demonstrate how completely I have the human race in my power,” declared Garri-Garri. “How long have you known what you now know about me?”

  “Not long.” At all costs, he must seem humble.

  “How long?”

  “The possibility of some such leader has been forming in my mind for years, but I have only known for certain in the past few days.”

  “So,” said Garri-Garri. “For a few days. Do you know how long I have been planning this? Do you know how long I have been preparing for the day when I would take command of the human race?”

  Palfrey said: “Ten years, perhaps.”

  Ten?

  “Forty years!” cried Garri-Garri. “Since I began to think and to dream and to see the folly of human beings, to see the way they wasted the gifts of nature on the sick and the halt and the lame and the misshapen, I have wanted to perfect man. I have lived for that. I have subjugated everything in me to that purpose. I yearned to create the perfect man who could live forever – and I am and I can, Palfrey.”

  His voice rang out.

  Palfrey, watching, knowing that when this man had disappeared he had been in his sixties, so that now he must be in his seventies, marvelled at the fact that he looked and behaved as if he were a man in his middle forties; as if he was indeed what he claimed to be. Master of the human race – the man who could live for ever.

  “It—it’s a miracle,” Higgins said, as if he were talking to himself. “You were sixty-three when you went away.”

  “I am a living miracle,” Garri-Garri declared simply. “And let me tell you why, Palfrey, before you begin to talk, before you begin to think of discussing any issue with me. The earth was no place for perfection, and originally creation came out of the sea. When life first began it was down here, in the Deep, far beneath the surface of the waters. Life was created here and evolved from its creation. So I realised that it was back into the Deep that man must go to find his own perfection.

  “Do you understand that, Palfrey?”

  Palfrey murmured: “I understand,” and he sounded humble. It was not all affectation; in a strange way he felt that there was only humility left to him before this mighty concept.

  “I believe you do,” said Garri-Garri, as if marvelling. “But there is a great deal more that you do not understand, which no one could unless I explained to them. I began to live under the sea in a cave in the Indian Ocean, hundreds of miles from Bombay. There are some small islands, all uninhabited. The islands were the peaks of volcanic underwater mountains, which I began to explore. I found great mineral wealth there, and was able to afford to pay clever men to work with me. First it was necessary for us to have many airlines from the surface to our world beneath the sea, but gradually we were able to reduce the intake. As more and more men came to help me, as more and more saw the marvel of what I was beginning to do, I was able to expand. I created new caves under the sea – as I created this citadel, the Citadel of the Deep. I brought great numbers of men and machines down here from ships which were lost at sea. I brought down teams of surveyors who found on the ocean bed all the minerals and raw materials needed for the making of steel, for plastics, for the manufacture of all the goods man needs. Once I had learned to keep back the water, I learned how to manufacture all that was needed for a civilised life beneath the ocean. Do you understand that? I have created great factories beneath the bed of the ocean, factories where everything we need is manufactured, laboratories where all the men who serve me work – do you understand that, Palfrey? It is mine and mine alone.”

  Palfrey moistened his lips.

  “I understand perfectly,” he said.

  “All that was neces
sary in the beginning was to learn to keep the water out and to create walls which were strong enough to withstand all the pressures of the Deep. This citadel is half a mile beneath the ocean bed. Through the world of the Deep, there are smaller citadels, Stations of the Deep, controlled from here, controlled by me, Palfrey. They are fed with air from the Citadel, and live off the Citadel for supplies of all kinds. Are you beginning to understand why I call myself the Master of the Human Race?”

  “Yes,” said Palfrey. “Yes – fully.”

  “I now control a world down here, with atomic piles and atomic and nuclear power. I have nuclear reactors. I have nuclear bombs. I have the means to create the great waves – and the means to control them. Throughout the oceans of the world I have a hundred stations, all manned by men who can create the waves, who can destroy everything within their reach – everything on the seas and every one of the coastal areas of the world. Each one is controlled by me, from this Citadel. Without me they could not even breathe. Take away the harbours from your upper world, destroy them utterly, and how can man live there?”

  “He could not live,” Palfrey said huskily.

  “He could not live without my consent,” corrected Garri-Garri. “Men cannot live anywhere without my approval. Palfrey, you told me you wanted to talk, and I have spoken as clearly as anyone can. You may see everything there is to see here for yourself. When you have seen, you may go back and tell your governments how helpless they are. You can tell them that they will not be ruled from the earth and will not be ruled from the planets or from space. They will be ruled from the Deep.

  “And you can tell them this, Palfrey.

  “That all men who are not perfect shall perish. What use is there for men with disease, men with sickness, men with distorted shapes? Men with crippled bodies and with crippled minds? Civilisation’s dreadful mistake has been to succour the weak, instead of destroying them. Strength and power are the only forces acknowledged in the World of the Deep. There is no room anywhere for weakness. That is the ultimatum you shall take back with you. All who are not free from blemish in mind and in body shall perish. And with those who are left we shall really begin to build the world which is fit enough for men who live for ever.”

  Palfrey thought: He believes every word of it.

  Higgins put his hand to his forehead, as if he wanted to shield himself from some bright light.

  No one else moved.

  Garri-Garri stood with his arm flung out, as if in command – or as if demonstrating that all he had to do to establish his mastery was to make such a gesture. Palfrey, watching intently, was startled by his handsomeness, by his vigour, by his sense of mastery. But there was more to think about, in desperate haste.

  He looked at Julia.

  She was frowning as she watched the Patriarch, as if at something she did not really understand. Boris was standing with his head bowed before Garri-Garri, as if before a ruler to be adored.

  “I will show you all there is to see,” declared Garri-Garri. “Come.”

  He moved towards a wall and raised his hand, and the door opened. He stepped through, into a wide passage. Higgins, Palfrey, Julia and the man with her followed; the door closed silently behind them. They were in the middle of what looked like a huge general office, with glass walls on either side, filled with workers. No one looked up, no one appeared to notice them.

  “They are the administrators,” Garri-Garri reported. “They are assessing the work which is being done in the factories, preparing the schedules of work for the next period, studying the surveys of the ocean beds which have not yet been fully explored. And I will show you more, Palfrey.”

  He went on.

  They passed through the dormitory where Julia had slept, and when the door was open that whispering voice came softly and yet quite distinctly:

  “When you wake you will obey the Master. When you wake you will obey the Master.”

  “There have been many men throughout history who believed that they were able to make sure of absolute loyalty and complete obedience among their servants,” said Garri-Garri. “In fact, none has succeeded. Men’s spirits were too independent. Too many thought their own way best, yet in a perfect world the only law must be the law of the Master. In creating longevity, in creating man who deserves to live for ever, it was necessary to make sure that he was free from all the stresses and strains of normal living – the deceptions of false ideas, false ideologies, all thought of independence, all thought of revolt. Has that ever occurred to you, Palfrey? That if the spirit of revolt does not exist in a man, he is less subject to the stresses of life in the Upper World? The man who does not have to think has less anxiety, less sense of frustrations, than he who must. Only one man need think – all others must obey.”

  Higgins was muttering something under his breath; he looked as if he would be sick.

  That whispering voice went on: “When you wake you will obey the Master …”

  They passed the rows of sleeping people, past more offices and rooms where there were many people, all awake – but no one took any notice of them. Those who saw them showed no interest.

  Palfrey said: “Have they been trained to work only on the immediate task?”

  “Each has a task, each performs it, each has learned not to waste his energies on secondary interests. Sufficient recreation, sufficient culture, sufficient physical exercise, is ordained and is enjoyed. None more is necessary. Here you see the largest of our gymnasiums and our indoor stadiums. We have small gymnasiums at all the Stations of the Deep, where exercises can be carried out regularly.”

  Men were running, skipping, climbing the parallel bars, vaulting horses, on the climbing ropes, performing all the tricks of the athlete in training. No one took any notice of the visitors.

  They passed through another door, into what looked like a vast studio. Here, men and women were painting or drawing, some from models, some from pictures; only one or two looked up, incuriously.

  They passed in awed silence through another door into a great concert hall, where an orchestra of at least sixty men and women were rehearsing before a conductor who looked neither older nor younger than everyone else there. The room was sound-proof, but Garri-Garri opened the door, and the strains of Beethoven’s Fidetio boomed resonantly.

  Garri-Garri closed the door.

  “Everything is organised and ordained,” he said, “even the creation of mankind. The upper world’s preoccupation with the emotions which control the sexual urge is not known here. Those of our people who are most suited mate from time to time, but there is no marriage as you understand it. The children are taken from their parents and placed in the care of nurses and foster mothers. No child knows its parents, and no parents know their children. So, emotional loyalties cannot interfere with the supreme loyalty.”

  Palfrey closed his eyes.

  Higgins gripped his arm.

  “Now you shall see the final wonders,” Garri-Garri declared. He raised his hand for yet another door to open. They stepped through into a small cinema, with perhaps two hundred seats. They sat down, near the middle of the theatre, Garri-Garri in the centre. The lights dimmed. The picture came on. A voice – Garri-Garri’s voice – began the commentary – and Palfrey sat spellbound, as they were journeyed on the screen through the ocean beds of the world – beds where great mine shafts had been sunk. Here coal and oil, ores, precious stones, all the essential metals, even uranium – everything that man had learned to use above the earth, was here in abundance. Everything.

  “And here, among the finest laboratories in the Deep, physicists from all over the known world give of their best to serve the cause …”

  Palfrey saw the faces of men who had disappeared; the faces of men who had vanished in the ships. The faces of Fumagi Kyma, the American bacteriologist, of Professor Herbert Rackley, the Australian atomic research worke
r who specialised in hydro-electric and atomic energy plants, Sigismund Dahl, the Swedish genius in the treatment of heart diseases, John Smith, whose work on electronic computers was outstanding, Otto Schumacher, the specialist in under-water machines, Patrick Mullahy, whose work in steel …

  These Palfrey knew on sight, for he had studied their faces so recently.

  There were countless others, working as they would have worked above the Deep, in the normal, natural world of man. They seemed intent on what they were doing. They had many assistants. They seemed to lack no machines. But there was no expression on the faces of any of the men – they did not smile, they seemed to be weighed down by some great burden.

  A man appeared in a small laboratory, a man with a helpless look on his face, a look of utter despair. He was standing at a work bench. Several assistants, men and women, were near him, but he appeared to be oblivious. He seemed almost to be dying on his feet.

  Julia exclaimed: “Timmy!”

  It was Professor Corvell. Palfrey’s heart seemed to freeze.

  “Timmy,” Julia repeated with a wild note in her voice. She went towards Garri-Garri, one hand raised. “What have you done to him? What has happened—”

  “Julia!” The man Boris snatched at her arm as if he were afraid that she would touch the Patriarch.

  “What have you done to him?” she cried.

  “He is one of the more difficult newcomers,” Garri-Garri said. “We needed him urgently, and were unable to submit him to the normal processes of conversion for a long enough period. He was much more resistant than most people. In a few days, he will be amenable – at the moment he desires only freedom. Some men with strong and independent minds find it more difficult to accept the conditions, but they learn – they soon learn. They learn,” he added with a sardonic smile, “in their sleep. I will show you how mercifully I can help Corvell.”