by P. Milisande
Day 1 in Vancouver. At the airport. They looked haggard, tired, excited. They moved at the wish, whim, and insistence of her mother. Life became harder for little Maia, but her father made everything okay.
This one is from Stanley Park. They rented bikes from a bike store on Davie Street. They circled the Park, the seawall, and the Rose Garden. They stopped by the playground and trooped to the Sylvia Hotel for lunch. Her Dad said the hotel had ghosts. She tried to look for one and thought she saw something reflected in the bathroom mirror. A lady ghost with tears on her face and a crown on her head. She told her parents about it. They have not returned ever since.
I must go again.
This one from Cathedral Grove. On their way to Tofino, they saw huge, towering trees. A placard announced, “Cathedral Grove”. Rain suddenly fell in torrents so they parked the car. Once the rain stopped, they went down to explore the park. In the shot, white globes surrounded Maia. Spirits, her father said.
This one from the gondola. Her father coaxed them – she and her mother – to go up the Grouse Grind, a 2.9-kilometre trail up the face of Grouse Mountain. They finished it after a dismal 3 hours. But not once did her father leave them, even though he wanted to reach the top in record time. Once there and they have caught their breath, they were treated to a panoramic view of Vancouver and wide stretches of the Pacific Ocean. That is your reward, she remembered her father telling them. Although impressed, she tried to argue that the gondola could also have done the trick. But she lost that argument. She and her Mom vowed never to go up the Grouse Mountain again. They did it again. And again. And again. On her last climb, she clocked in 1 hour, 52 minutes.
A smile touched her features.
This one from Lake Louise en route to Calgary. It promised to be a dry, sparkly blue summer. When they got to Banff, Alberta’s national park, she could not believe her eyes. A lake – emerald, aquamarine, turquoise, or teal, she could not decide – greeted her. It was the world-famous Lake Louise. Also named Lake of the Little Fishes by the Stoney Nakota First Nations people. A glacial lake filled with water so still, a ripple could go for miles.
I should know. I threw a rock and got scolded. But that lake’s something else. It is another-dimension unreal.
“What do you call this color, Dad?” she remembered asking her father. He did not know. She grew disconcerted when she heard a tour guide say algae caused the lake’s blue-green color. Her father took her aside and whispered the “rock flour” caused it. He explained “rock flour” is the silt created when glaciers at the valley grind away at the bedrock. This silt drains into the lake. When the sun strikes the suspended particles, it absorbs all the spectrum of colors. All, except green and blue.
It’s the same principle of how the sky is every color but blue, her Dad further explained. She did not really understand.
Her hand grew still when she saw the next photo: the last photo taken of her father. The first day of the dive. He looked happy. When he called after sending her the photo, she teased him. She said he looked goofy and loopy. Oh, Dad.
She did not know he would say goodbye so soon.
He said he will just be gone for two weeks – to go to Japan and its atomic-bombed shores. That’s exactly how he said it – atomic-bombed shores. My silly, genius, poetic dad. From Narita airport, he charted a plane. It flew him to the coast of the Ryukyu archipelago. There, the ruins of a massive steppe pyramid lay at the bottom of the sea.
She could still see his face and hear the excitement in his voice when he asked for her permission.
“Maia, they said it looked really ancient. Maybe it is thousands of years old!! It had huge steps…” He motioned with his hands. “They said it could be stairs. For giants. Giants, Maia. Imagine that!”
The steppe pyramid – dubbed the Yonaguni Monument – lurked in the darkness of the Pacific Ocean. Waiting, it seemed, for the prying eyes of man.
“You know how they found it? The diver is a hammerhead junkie. While looking for a good place to observe the sharks, he and his native guides swam to deeper waters. Before they knew it, it rose before them. Even the natives did not know it’s there!”
According to her Dad, the diver and his guides swam close to the structure. They saw strange formations made up of symmetrical terraces, stone pillars and archways. And huge retaining walls.
“He said the sharks led him to it. I think I believe him. I need to see this, Maia. Can I go? Will you let Daddy go?”
Desperate, he almost knelt. She almost laughed.
Her father was a hotshot marine archeologist. “Your Dad is one of our best, the youngest too!” his friends told her. They did not know she called the shots. He always asked for her permission before he accepted an assignment.
She knew he fought hard to be assigned to explore the Yonaguni Monument.
“This is important to me baby girl. Everyone, every scientist, is fighting to explore this. It’s an open secret. The whole scientific community is going wild. Some say there’s already a cover-up going on. I think it is truly an important find, Maia. It might change the known history of the world. I feel I have to be there! Please?”
Of course, she had to let him go. She regretted now that she had.
On the third day of the dive, he never surfaced. They received conflicting reports about what happened underwater. He dove too deep and rogue underwater waves dragged him to deeper parts of the ocean. Strange lights and a venomous snake kept his rescuers from reaching him.
They never found his body.
Maia put the photo on her breast.
Death seeps in unwanted, unwelcome, unexpected. A painful respite from blinding ordinariness. It is devastating. With death, everything takes on a somber hue, every memory becomes a burden.
Words from her diary.
When you left me, I became lost.
The succeeding days and weeks passed by like a blur. His crew continued to search for him. But the search had to be abandoned after two months because of rough sea conditions.
She heard the languid drumming of the dryer in their basement. She could hear her mother walking to and fro, busy with life. Pretending to still live, to still care.
Maybe it’s because she has found someone to care for.
Dad, she came home last night with a man she has not even introduced to me. He kissed her and she let herself be kissed.
They did not know Maia saw them from her window.
Has Mom moved on, Dad? How could she?
She sat upright. She tried to stop her tears from falling. In the darkness, she felt more alone. Then something caught her eyes. The light reflected by the big mirror in the corner – she thought it moved.
There is nothing there. I am imagining things.
She exhaled deeply and looked again at the photos, at the face of her father. At his last photo. She missed him terribly.
Where are you, Dad? Are you here? Where are you? Why did you leave us? Do you still remember me? Do you see me? Why is it still so painful? Are you out there Dad? Can you hear me? Have you forgotten us? I am afraid, Dad. I am afraid that I will forget.
Where are you?
The wind whispered back with its many voices: You can find out. You can find out where he is.
She grew still.
Those voices… I’ve heard them before.
The blaze of the light from her television, on mute, glared at her. It interrupted her terror and momentary incapacity. The weather girl held a yellow umbrella. It distracted her. Maia stood and turned the volume up.
“A low-pressure system that has been sitting off the West Coast will make its way inland. It is expected to pick up even more moisture from a storm which struck…”
We will have crappy weather again tomorrow.
The screen showed temperatures across the country. They superimposed it on a zoomed-in portion of Google Earth. Maia stared at the TV pensively.
You can find out where he is.
The seed of an idea came to her.
/> What if…
She thought of going to where he disappeared.
What if...
She turned on her computer and downloaded Google Earth.
Once she has uploaded the app, she put in “Japan” on the space bar. There, she moved the cursor with her mouse. There is nothing interesting here. She then put in “Yonaguni, Jima”. Where he disappeared. It surprised her to find out it was far from the mainland and not where she imagined it.
She looked at the sea near Yonaguni, Jima. Several dark mounds dotted the seas near the island. On its right lay the Pacific, an endless expanse of blue. On its left, the East China Sea. She clicked her mouse and looked at the sea bottom.
There is nothing here, nothing but some dark dips and inundations.
She tried to look for it but she could not see the Yonaguni Steppe Pyramid.
Just mounds and some lines. Maybe I don’t know how to use this yet.
She zoomed out and looked at the stretch of the Pacific Ocean. She zoomed in on Clipperton Island, where she saw several lines.
Lots of lines. Weird lines, like something a child would draw. Interesting.
She zoomed out again. Her eyes grew big.
A face? Oh, it’s a Native American face! I can’t believe these lines made a face... Interesting lines... Why do these lines look like tire tracks?
She zoomed out.
Wow, there are lots of tracks on the ocean floor! Could these be really tire tracks? The Nazca lines... These lines remind me of the Nazca lines. Except this is under the sea. Hmmm…
The tracks went this way and that, shaping triangles, squares, letter A’s. She found straight lines that spanned great distances. She found narrow lines, big lines, and some made sharp turns.
It intrigued her.
They definitely look like tire tracks. But it should not be there in the depths. Can’t be natural. Could it? But how? Why am I talking to myself?
She puckered her lips and tied her hair into a bun. Her mouse darted here and there. An hour passed before she realized she had gone far from Yonaguni, Jima. She shook her head.
Who knew Google Earth could be so interesting?
She went to other parts of the ocean and saw more undersea intersections. Some lines made sudden and very sharp turns. Again, several looked like A-shaped indentations.
What’s with the underwater letter A’s? Roads? Flight paths? I’m silly. This is silly.
Mildly and wildly curious, she typed “underwater lines” on Google’s search bar. She found https://googleblog.blogspot.ca/2009/02/atlantis-no-it-atlant-isnt.html.
Atlantis? No, it Atlant-isn’t.
…So what is it? The scientific explanation is a bit less exotic, but we think it’s still pretty interesting: these marks are what we call “ship tracks.” You see, it’s actually quite hard to measure the depth of the ocean. Sunlight, lasers, and other electromagnetic radiation can travel less than 100 feet below the surface, yet the typical depth in the ocean is more than two and a half miles. Sound waves are more effective. By measuring the time it takes for sound to travel from a ship to the sea floor and back, you can get an idea of how far away the sea floor is. Since this process – known as echo-sounding – only maps a strip of the sea floor under the ship, the maps it produces often show the path the ship took, hence the “ship tracks.” In this case, the sounds produced by a ship are also about 1% deeper than the data we have in surrounding areas – like likely an error – making the tracks stand out more…
The article did not convince her.
How can ship tracks make patterns? Patterns – intentional, geometric patterns?
She tried to recall something her Dad said. Geometric lines do not exist in the natural world. The lines in the water engrossed, transfixed and mystified her. I am definitely, certifiably hooked. But what is the sea showing me? What is it not showing me? This is interesting. This is weird. I am weird.
She moved to another part of the sea, to the Hawaiian Islands.
A blue line suddenly appeared. When first there was only the unremarkable sea of blue.
Oh! Is this a ship track? Where did this line come from? But why is it dark blue… The lines I’ve seen are black and look like tire tracks. This is barely perceptible...
It was a line just slightly darker than the blue of the sea.
What are you? Just pixels, maybe. Well, the sea is a mysterious place. Things are not what they seem.
She went to other parts of the ocean, but the blue line tickled her memory.
What is that blue line? It’s odder than the other oddities I have seen here. And why is it there are no other lines like it?
She tried looking for the blue line again.
She could not find it. Then suddenly, she did – on a darker part of the ocean. It was very faint. It appeared just at the periphery of her vision as if telling her: Look. Look closer. Look.
Okay, okay, I am looking. What is it? What are you?
She followed its little-pixelated form and moved through it inch by inch. She zoomed out. She saw it run across one of the most uninhabited and inhospitable regions of the Pacific Ocean.
No big continents there, just islands that appeared to be connected. She zoomed in again and marked the blue line with Google Earth’s pin so she would not lose it again. She called it, “The Mysterious Blue Line”. There was a line running parallel with it. She marked it too.
She shook her head.
It is nothing, just a distraction. I probably need a distraction right now. A distraction that is blue and thick and is unlike the other “ship tracks” that looked like tire tracks.
She moved her cursor and saw that a tire track cut across the blue line.
What? If that is a tire track, then what is this?
The “tire tracks” cut across the blue line. But the blue line only curved, as if allowing the tire tracks to go through it.
An opening?
Walk into my parlor, said the spider to the fly. But Maia was too far into the web.
Inch by inch, she followed the blue line to look for other tire tracks. Several cut across it in irregular distances. The blue line always curved and let the tire tracks through.
Are those tracks some kind of a doorway or a gate in the blue line? But how? Why?
She dropped several Google Earth pins so she would remember the spots. When she reached the poles, the blue line became fainter, almost invisible. And then it disappeared.
Maia held her breath.
Very interesting. I may be on to something. Maybe I’ll be a scientist. Marine Archeology, Dad? She sighed.
This is crazy... This means nothing.
Could it?
Excitement filled her. And fear.
But what is there to be afraid of, said the spider to the fly.
She clicked her mouse and went back to the center of the Pacific Ocean, where she first saw the line. She experimented with distance and moved her mouse up then down. She found she could see the line only at a certain depth. It becomes a deeper blue and took on a 3-D quality as she zoomed closer.
It disappeared when she zoomed out of the ocean floor.
Invisible yet visible. What is this?
“Maia!!!!”
Only one person would be up this early and calling her name from outside her bedroom window.
“Look outside...”
She did.
“Elle! What are you doing here? Don’t you have work today?”
“I’m treating you to breakfast. Come down so we don’t have to shout,” Elle whispered theatrically.
“Fine! Okay! I’m coming down!”
Maia shut down her computer, frowning slightly, trying to ingest what she had just seen. Elle’s intrusion filled her with an odd sense of relief.
By seeing what she saw, she felt she somehow crossed a line.
Literally and figuratively. That’s so me.
She put on a light sweater and went out through the window, descending on a pink ladder. It rested prec
ariously on the wall. Her father, the carpenter-wannabe, made it for her. She jumped to the ground from the second rung, taking care not to step on the pink blossoms that littered their garden.
She looked at Elle. Elle’s alabaster skin glowed against her pink sweater.
Pink on pink on pink. Elle, the radiant one, resplendent as the sun. Sweet, gentle Elle.
“Maia, I told you not to use that ladder anymore! It’s not safe!”
Maia frowned at Elle.
“Okay, okay… I know your dad made it. If you think it is not dangerous then it is not dangerous.”
Maia had to laugh. She looked again at the ladder. It does look rickety. She knew she would use it forever.
I love you, Dad, she told the wind.
She turned and gave Elle a proper look. Elle looked troubled. Something about her eyes.
“Elle…?”
“It’s...black.” Their code for “terrified”.
“Was it another…? Elle, you have got to see a doctor.”
Elle lightly brushed the pink flowers with her shoe.
“It is nothing. Probably my blood sugar. I don’t know. Maybe too much tea? I’ll treat you to Timmy’s…” Elle started to drag her to the gate. Maia would not bulge.
“You have to see a doctor.”
“No.”
Maia wanted to but knew she should not press the issue. Elle’s mom died of cancer. More than her death, the years of battling the sickness had been terrible years for Elle and her family. The cancer cells had already spread, so the doctors gave Elle’s mom mood-altering painkillers. After the first few months of taking the drug, she could no longer recognize her family. She often went into uncontrollable rages. Elle’s dad finally agreed to have her mom go to a hospice when she hurt Elle in one incident. They knew death would soon follow. It broke Elle’s father. It broke Elle’s heart. Her little brother Liam barely hung on.
Maia met Elle during that time. She had just entered freshman year and the school assigned Elle, a senior, to be her buddy. They had a rough start because Elle was hardly there for her. When she found out about Elle’s mom, she vowed to never leave Elle’s side. Instead of being the initiate, Maia became Elle’s rock. She spent many hours with her at the hospital holding watch. Elle cried on her shoulder and held her hand tight. They both felt and saw the devastation cancer wreaked on a family.
