Read Deep Storm for Free Online Page B

their intersection Times Square.”
    â€œRemarkable.”
    â€œThe multimedia nexus and laundry are down that way. And over there is the PX.” Asher pointed at a storefront that looked more like an upscale department store than a commissary.
    Crane stared at the small knots of workers all around him: chatting, sipping coffee at small tables, reading books, typing on laptops. A few were in military uniform, but the majority wore casual clothes or lab wear. He shook his head; it seemed almost unthinkable that miles of ocean lay above their heads.
    â€œI can’t believe the military built something like this,” he said.
    Asher grinned. “I doubt the original designers had this in mind. But you have to remember this project will last many months. And leaving isn’t an option, except under the most extreme circumstances. Unlike you, most of the workers here have no experience in submarines. Our scientists aren’t used to living inside a steel box without doors or windows. So we do what we can to make life as bearable as possible.”
    Crane, inhaling the scent of freshly ground coffee wafting from the café, decided life here would be very bearable indeed.
    On the far side of the tiny park, he could make out an oversize flat-panel display, perhaps ten feet by ten, with a group of benches set before it. On closer inspection, he noticed it was actually an array of smaller displays placed in a grid to project a single image. That image was dim, green-black ocean depths. Strange, almost otherworldly fish floated by: bizarrely articulated eels, colossal jellies, balloon-shaped fish with a single lighted tentacle on their heads. Crane recognized some of the species: fangtooth, deep sea angler, viperfish.
    â€œIs that the view outside?” he asked.
    â€œYes, via a remote camera outside the dome.” Asher waved his arm around the little square. “A lot of the workers spend their off hours here, relaxing in the library or watching interactive movies in the multimedia nexus. The sports center on deck ten is also very popular: remind me to show you around it later. Also, we’ll need to get you chipped.”
    â€œChipped?”
    â€œTag you with a RFID chip.”
    â€œRadio frequency identification? Is that necessary?”
    â€œThis is a very secure installation. I’m afraid so.”
    â€œWill it hurt?” Crane asked, only half joking.
    Asher chuckled. “The tag’s the size of a grain of rice, implanted subcutaneously. Now, let’s get to the medical suite. Michele and Roger are waiting. It’s this way, at the end of the corridor.” And Asher pointed with his right hand down one of the wide hallways. At the end, past the PX and café and a half dozen other entranceways, Crane could just make out a double set of frosted glass doors, marked with red crosses.
    Once again, he noticed Asher kept his left arm tucked in stiffly against his side. “Something wrong with your arm?” he asked as they made their way down the hallway.
    â€œVascular insufficiency of the upper extremity,” Asher replied.
    Crane frowned. “Is the pain significant?”
    â€œNo, no. I just need to be a little careful.”
    â€œI’ll say you do. How long have you had the condition?”
    â€œA little over a year. Dr. Bishop has me on a Coumadin regimen, and I exercise regularly. We have a fine set of squash courts in the sports complex.” Asher bustled ahead, apparently eager to change the subject. Crane reflected that if Asher had not been the chief scientist, such a condition would probably have kept him on dry land.
    The medical suite was engineered like the other spaces Crane had already seen: meticulously designed to fit as many things as possible into the smallest area, yet without appearing cramped. Unlike usual hospital practice, the lighting was kept indirect and even mellow, and piped classical music came from everywhere and nowhere at