The Raw Shark Texts (34 page)

The explosion blasted a hole in the sea, the pressure forcing tons of deep water up and out into a violent high-rolling wave. It heaved me up and out with it, lurching me along and over, throwing my feet over my head and tumbling me down into the bass thunder-hum of the blue. I came up retching into a ghost world of thick mist and spray. Remains of shark and boat rained down loud and half-seen in the mist, a meteor storm of shadows. Wide-eyed and gasping, I splash-ducked as a huge chunk of splintered hull came spinning out of the white and punched down hard into the ocean behind me.

Bobbing up, coughing and spitting, I swam through waves and chop to the fallen lump of
Orpheus
, clambered my top half onto it and held tight as the last of the debris dropped, fell and fluttered from the sky.

The sea finally calmed itself into a traumatised rocking sway but the mist held in place above it, an entire second ocean of net curtains and spider webs, haunted and swaying and quiet. I pressed my head down against the wooden planking, shaking and cold, gulping back deep shuddery sobs. I pushed myself up a little and tried to look around, looking for Ian and his little boat, looking for anything, but I could only see maybe six feet in each direction and there was nothing else in my little patch of ocean. I was all alone in the white. I slumped back down onto the wood.

I felt something, a faint vibration like the tiniest muscle spasm in the back of my thigh.
I’m injured
, I thought,
I’m cut open and the cold is keeping it numb and vague
. I reached a hand down and around to investigate and found the postcard in the back pocket of my shorts. I touched it again
and, yes, it felt like the little oblong of card was humming. I carefully pulled it out of my back pocket, resting on the bobbing wreckage with my elbows to get a better look.

By now the postcard was soggy, pulpy and coming apart at the edges, but I didn’t notice. Something amazing took up all of my attention: the little black and white picture of my house was moving.

As I stared, a tiny pixellated starling flutter-jumped and flew from the pixellated telephone line. Pixellated trees waved in a pixellated wind. A grey pixillated Volkswagen flashed across the frame, driving up the out-of-shot road.

I brought my finger up to touch the surface of the image, but there
was
no surface. My finger went straight through and became another moving part of the picture. I pushed my hand, my arm inside. I felt the cold rainy air, the
real
air on the other side of the postcard. I stared down at the picture, made my pixellated hand squeeze itself into a pixellated fist and then released it, stretching and waving my black and white fingers.

I could hear road traffic. Other sounds too–a baby crying, the sound of somebody’s TV through an open window–noises drifting in across the surface of the misty water. As I looked around, faint shadows began to appear in the white. Familiar silhouettes formed themselves around me, a skyline of terraced rooftops and trees, TV aerials and chimney pots, the telegraph pole in the garden of the house across from mine.

I pulled my arm out of the picture. The sounds quickly subsided and the shapes faded away, back into the mist.

I stared down at the postcard. Another pixellated car flashed across the frame, but silently now. I could just make out the rain, coming down heavier, lancing across the scene in little slashes of grey. I looked for a while at my black and white house.

“No,” I said to the picture, quietly, eventually. “I’m not going back, I’m never going back.
One foot in front of the other
, trying to be brave and trying to be strong? Coping and keeping going, why would I want that?” I felt the hot tears. “She’s dead.” My head dropped down into the crook of my elbow.
“She’s dead and I’m so, so sick of surviving,” and I cried and cried and cried.

Bleak, white-washed moments passed.

And then.

A patch of warmth touched my back. I looked up. Sunrays, sunlight was cutting down through the mist and spotlighting little travelling pools of blue onto the cold ocean. I shifted myself around on the
Orpheus
wreckage, trying to see through the clearing mist for Ian’s little boat. I shifted again, trying to get a better view and that’s when I noticed what was happening to the postcard in my hand. The black and white picture of my house was fading away, the black receding into the white. Before long the image had gone all together, leaving the postcard completely blank. I went to touch the new surface but stopped: the little card was humming again, vibrating faintly against the tips of my finger and thumb. The hum only lasted for a moment but when it stopped the postcard seemed to have changed itself into something else, something thinner and less pulpy, something with a clean and glossy finish. As I watched, a new picture began to develop, not black and white this time, but alive with spreading reds and blues and yellows and greens. Within a few seconds I was holding, not a postcard, but an underwater photograph of a brightly coloured fish.

I stared at the picture, overwhelmed by an immense feeling of inter-connectedness, a crushing weight of relevance I could feel but couldn’t quite find. Something huge happening here. Something, so, so important…

A fountain of bubbles erupted a few feet from my chunk of the
Orpheus
and I tried to scramble the bottom part of my body out of the water and up onto the broken hull-side.

Then Scout’s masked head broke the surface and she waved, spitting out her air valve.

“Hey,” she said, grinning.

“Jesus.” I stuffed the picture into my back pocket, laughing and sliding down the hull and into the water to meet her.

Scout laughed too, pulling off her scuba mask and swimming towards
me. I grabbed her and she grabbed me and we pulled ourselves together through the water, wrapping our arms around each other, squeezing tight, holding on and laughing like crazy.

“I thought you were dead,” I said, when I finally found the breath. “Oh, God, I thought you were dead,”

“The shark put a hole in the cage,” she said. “When he got tangled up, I sort of, slipped out.”

“You sort of slipped out,” I repeated, looking at her like I couldn’t believe it, shaking my head.

We kissed then. We kissed up against the flotsam and jetsam hull, tight together as if it was the end and the beginning of the world, as if there was nothing else and never would be.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” I said quietly as we broke apart.

“I can’t believe you did it,” she smiled up at me. “You did it, Eric.”

I gave a helpless sort of shrug. “I know.”

“What about the doctor?”

I shook my head.

Scout looked down at the water.

“The cage and the barrels and the shark all got tangled and he was trying to cut the lines. It all happened so fast, one minute he was–I mean, I didn’t know for a second what had happened and then–”

As I stumbled on, trying to get the words out, Scout looked deep, deep into my eyes. “It’s alright,” she said calmly, eventually, putting a hand on my shoulder. “I know you couldn’t have done anything.”

“I couldn’t reach him. I tried to get hold of him but I wasn’t fast enough and–”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“The winching arm came free so suddenly, I–”

“Eric, please.”

“What?”

“You need to really listen to me. I’m trying to tell you something important, okay?”

I looked at her. She brought her hand up and laid it gently on the side of my face.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she said. “Sometimes things go bad and there’s nothing anybody can do about it. None of what happened was your fault, Eric. I don’t blame you for it, do you understand? I don’t blame you. It was an accident.”

Everything came together then. The whispering nonsense and that huge
something
I hadn’t been able to find, all of it focusing into one bright, brilliant realisation.

In that one moment, I understood it all.

“Oh, God.”

Scout smiled.

“Thank you,” I said, my eyes hot and wet and stinging.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she whispered, crying too.

“I love you. I always, always loved you. You know that, right?”

“I know that,” she said. “I enjoy spending time with you too.”

I laughed a wet laugh. “I hate that one.”

“I know,” she grinned, tear-striped. “You’re too easy.”

And we held each other tight, crying as the last of the mist cleared around us.

“Hey,” Scout patted me on the back, “is that Ian over there?”

I turned to look. Ian’s yellow dinghy bobbed in the distant swell. Miles behind him and out across the sea, the island rose up high and stony, hazy in the distance.

“Ian!” I shouted out, half to the cat and half with the joy of seeing his little boat. I waved in his direction. “I think I can see him. Can you see him?”

“Oh, yeah,” she nodded, staring out, shielding her eyes from the sun. “You’re going to be in so much trouble. Come on.”

“Scout.”

“Yeah?”

“It is over, isn’t it?”

“Yes. It’s over.” She looked at me. “Are you okay?”

I nodded. “I’m glad,” I said quietly. “Where do we go now?”

She pointed out towards the island.

“Yeah, but I mean what is that, what is it really?”

Scout smiled. “Home.”

Ian frowned out over the water like an old-fashioned sea captain as the two of us swam his little boat towards the distant shore.

We were about halfway there when small towns of square white buildings started to light up in the dusty evening. As night drew in, we steered the dinghy towards a stretch of friendly looking coastline, a long strip of beach where the hanging lanterns of
tavernas
and waterfront bars laid multicoloured stripes out across the waves.

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A

Aames, Clio, (Gold Index only)

Aames, Mr, 207, 220, 228, 412

Aames, Mrs, 410

Alice Band, 47

Anchor, 139, 287, 301, 303, 316, 383, 384, 391, 395

Apalasitien, 264, N26

Aptiphage, 282, N26

Aquarium, P, 77–78

Araul Calthonis, 264, N26

Ariadne, 118

Ariadne’s Arch, 97, 118–119, 427

Australopithecus, 16

B

Bleak Dean Rush, 105–106

Blinking Quaric, 264, N26

Blue, 4, 6, 10, 25, 39, 44, 46, 55, 61, 102, 113, 119, 121, 132, 134, 138, 140, 144, 148, 154, 168, 175, 188, 189, 211, 221, 222, 235, 258, 62, 264, 266, 271, 272, 274, 284, 287, 295, 299, 306, 313, 314, 318, 320, 326, 381, 385, 88, 392, 407, 409, 417, 420, 422

Blue Bonbolian, 264, N26

Burgnatell, 264, N26

Business cards (I need to speak to you), 106, 125, 163

C

«Call», 110/124

Capital O open, 3, 58,

Casablanca, 12–13, 47, 268, 427–428

Code, Morse, 71, 73–75

Code, QWERTY, 71, 74, 103, 284, 291, 294, 301

Code, Rule of four,

Coloured Lights, 25, 121, 175, 252, 306, 425

Comparing things in real life to things in films, 39

Conceptual camouflage, 66, 68, 76, 102

Conceptual fish, 64, 66, 68, 70, 82, 136, 137, 146, 245

Conceptual flak jacket, 102

Conceptual space (Einsteinian), N35

Conceptual space (Newtonian), 54–55

Conceptual space (Tegmarkian), N35

D

Darwin, Charles, 125, 126, 127, 200, 245

Deadly, I’m Yours, N12

Dictaphones, 66, 86, 103, 125, 131, 135, 137, 148, 149, 154, 156, 159, 183, 209, 258, 295, 301, 404, 405

Dissociative, 7, 8, 11, 12, 27

Doorways, 3, 53, 131, 188, 224, 257, [421], 425

Dream Tip (see also–Nightmare Tip), 136, N26

Drive me, 10

E

Eels, P

Eleventh recurrence, 12

Empty, 5, 14, 17, 18, 20, 21, 29, 30, 32, 34, 42, 47, 49, 52, 53, 59, 63, 78, 85, 87, 99,110, 139, 145, 177, 183, 185, 188, 189, 191, 195, 208, 209, 214, 232, 237, 248, 250, 253, 254, 255, 261, 263, 267, 268, 270, 282, 284, 290, 298, 302, 306, 317, 324, 383, 400, 408, 414, 417

Empty book of stamps, 5

Evil genius, 112

Evolution Engine, The, 125

F

Fathmic Candiru, 264, N26

Fidorous, Dr Trey, 77–79, 82, 86, 87, 88, 93, 94, 96, 97, 106, 108, 125, 136, 163, 192, 198, 209, 221, 234–245, 248, 251, 253–256, 258, 270–276, 281, 282, 284, 286, 290, 291, 294–97, 299–301, 303–305, 308, 314–321, 324–326, 380, 381, 383–385, 389, 391, 394–409, 415

First things first, stay calm, 10

Flatwold, 264, N26

Flood, Biblical, 285

Flood, Peak District, 99, 100, 103, 104, 107, 162

Folocondorius, 264, N26

Franciscan (Bede Shark), 245, 264, 266, N26

Fry, 238, 239, 241, 242, N26

Fugue, 12, 13, 27, 86, 106, 426

Future Memory, 260, N35

G

Gavin the cat, 41, 108, N9, B

Gloom, 282

Grayson, Danielle, (Greek translation only)

Greece, 9, 13, 19, 27, 44, 72, 108, 155, 411

Greek Islands, 44, 97, 122, 113, 115, 117, 129, 155, 194, 224–227, 232, 239, 242, 401, 411, 412, 414

H

Hall, Steven,–3,–2, 35

Hammock, 111, 112, 114, 129, 306

Heletrobe, 136, N26

History sinks downwards, 181, 187, 191

Hoax, 426

Hole, P, 78, 289, 413, 426

Holmes, Sherlock, 122

Homo Habilis, 16

Hull, 77, 78, 82, 88, 93, 104, 106, 117, 124, 243, 399, 420, 422, 423

I

Ian the cat, 23, 24, 26, 27, 29, 41, 46, 51, 54, 85, 86, 101, 102, 104, 107, 108, 110, 130, 165, 166, 168, 169, 171, 179, 180, 183, 187, 188, 190, 191, 192, 193, 194, 198, 204, 208, 213–215, 218, 219, 221, 223, 224, 226, 230, 231, 232, 238, 240, 241, 248, 254–256, 267, 285, 295, 299, 302– 304, 315, 320, 324, 385, 400, 403, 407, 415, 416, 420, 422, 424, 425

Idea nets, 68

Illusory depths of mirrors, 1

Imagine you’re in a rowing boat, 54

Infinity, 117

It’s hurtful and wonderful how our jokes survive us, 101

J

Jarhaphish (Inknose), 264, N26

Jaws, 117

John, 100, 105, 107, 165, 169, 170, 179

Jones, P

Journey, exist in the potential of making, 108

Just Enough Essential Parts, 10, 17, 29, 85, 99, 104, 107, 132, 168, 169, 179, 180, 182, 184, 257, 290, 320

L

Lampropini, 264, N26

Lanterns (see–Coloured Lights)

Legerlantern, 264, N26

Letter #1, 22

Letter #2, 63

Letter #3, 66

Letter #4, 68

Letter # 7, N6

Letter #60, 69

Letter, #67, 70

Letter #108, 71

Letter #110, 72

Letter # 111, 73

Letter #158, N7

Letter# 175, N8

Letter #205, 77

Letter #206, 80

Letter #214, 81

Letter #222, 82

Letter #238, 83

Lewzivian, 264, N26

Lift, P

Light Bulb Fragment, 36, 37–45, 46, 77, 103, 107–110, 111–123, 125, 175, 232, 267, 268, 290, 291, 294, 410–414, 416

Line between chasing ghosts and tilting at windmills, The, 106

Living Afterlife, 265

Lost in Space, 39, 40

Ludogarian, 136, N26

Ludovician, adult, 57, 58, 64, 66, 68, 70, 77, 79, 82, 83, 86, 106, 124, 135–138, 145, 148, 150, 153, 155, 161, 166, 167, 177, 191, 206, 209, 217, 218, 238, 239, 245–247, 251–253, 260, 64–266, 268, 273, 281, 289, 318–320, 325, 326, 335–373, 381, 384, 385, 391, 394, 396, 399, 402, 404, 405, 408, 417, 418

Ludovician, young, P, 78, 138, N26

Ludovician, N26

Luxogone, 245, N26

Luxophage, 145, 147–149, 263, 266, 282, N26

M

Manchester, 77, 78, 82, 88, 107, 109, 124, 162, 178

Meglovician, 264, N26

Melissa Virus, 96

Meme, 33, 64, 156, 245, 265

Meme, Selfish, 64

Mitchell, Ryan, 22, 23, 29, 30, 31, 61, 64, 66, 86, 87, 426

Mosquito, 96

N

Naxos, 44, 97, 112, 113, 115, 117, 129, 194, 401, 411, 412, 414

Nobody, Mr, 128, 130, 134–151, 153, 154, 56–163, 167, 176–179, 188, 190, 194–196, 205, 206, 209, 229, 251, 253, 257, 263, 266, 282, 296, 299, 301, 317, 318, 320, 321, 325, 385, 389, 391, 395, 403, 409, 415, 417

Non–divergent Conceptual Loop, Data, 296

Non–divergent Conceptual Loop, Image, 281

Non–divergent Conceptual Loop, Living, P, 79

Non–divergent Conceptual Loop, Sound, (see–Dictaphones)

North Star, 58–60

Not in charge of the world, 43

O

One, 1

One thousand, one hundred and sixty miles, 25

Orpheus, 284, 294, 296, 298, 300–303, 308, 314, 316, 320, 324, 381, 383, 384, 395, 396, 397, 399, 400, 404, 406–408, 415, 416, 417, 420, 422

P

Photograph wallet, 262, 263, 268, 413

Photographs, underwater, 413, 422

Please don’t lose faith in me, Eric, 106

Postcard, 97, 401, 402, 405, 420–422

Probably forever, 17

Psychardius Armourus, 95, N26

Q

Quantum Machinegun, 259

R

Rabbit, 130, N22

Randle, Dr/Prof Helen, 7–14, 17, 21, 22, 26–28, 30, 31, 34, 56, 62, 84–86, 106, 137, 155, 256, 259, 260, 263, 268, 274, 320, 401, 405, 426, 427

Red Filing Cabinet, 53, 69, 87, 320

Richardson, Mark, 87, 102–104, 150, 151, 158, 209, 258, 320

Rusty, 7, 11, 85, 256

Ruth, (Aunty), 101–105, 107, 110, 131, 164–165, 168–170, 179, 198

S

Sanderson, Eric, The First, P, 11, 15, 18, 23, 26–31, 37–45, 46, 52, 53, 62, 63–83, 86–88 (For The First Eric Sanderson in parts 2–4 see: Gold Index)

Sanderson, Eric, The Other,

Sanderson, Eric, The Second, (Gold Index only)

Sanderson, Mr, 411, 414

Scout, (Gold Index only)

Second Post, 16

Shadow Fragment, 77, N22

Sheffield, 35, 77, 78, 82, 88, 93, 95–97, 104, 106, 107, 401

Signs of life, 18

Single Celled Animals, 93, 245

Single hair, 278

Snooker, 29, 31, 395, 401

Stillness, 3, 20, 21, 25

Superstring Theory, 139

T

Taverna, 39, 119, 121, 175, 266, 306, 425

Tegmark, Dr, 426

Tekisui’s paintbrush, 41, 52, 155, 161, 162, 185, 250, 278, 284, 286, 294, 300, 301, 303, 318, 319, 411

Telegraph pole, 25, 30, 88, 421

The Encyclopaedia of Unusual Fish, 263, 268, 272

The Thousand and One Nights, 68

Theia (see also–Orpheus), N4.533

Thera, –5, –3, 121, 224–227, 232, 242, N4.533

Theseus, 118

Thirty–Six, 263, 413, 426

THIS IS ADDRESSED TO YOU, 10

THIS IS FOR YOU, 110

Three years, 9, 105

Ticking Remora, 136, N26

Time’s shrinking little Antarctica, 107, 109

Torch Bulb Fragment, N20

Tower of Babel, 285

Trigger event, 12

U

Underwater Camera, 112, 114, 116, 117, 129, 414

Un–Space, 78, 80, 86, 106, 125, 128, 163, 181, 185, 188, 190, 194, 206, 210, 214, 248, 254, 320

Un–Space Exploration Committee, P, 78, 80, 106, 125, 163, 181

Use me, 10

V

Vigophage, 282, N26

W

Ward, Mycroft, 199–206, 246, 247, 251-253, 282, 283, 294, 318, 321, 384, 386, 403, 407, 417

Waterstones, 183, 184

Whirlpool loop collapse, 67

Willows Hotel, The, 98, 107, 108, 110, 125, 145, 160, 168, 320

Word tunnels, 240, 256, 289

Key:

P = Prologue

N= Negative