“Of course not.”

A bell rang, startling her. “Jesus, what’s that?”

“I think it’s dinner,” Norman said.

DINNER

“I don’t know how you can eat those things,” Harry said, pointing to the squid.

“They’re delicious,” Norman said. “Sauteed squid.” As soon as he had sat at the table, he became aware of how hungry he was. And eating made him feel better; there was a reassuring normalcy about sitting at a table, with a knife and fork in his hands. It was almost possible to forget where he was.

“I especially like them fried,” Tina said.

“Fried calamari,” Barnes said. “Wonderful. My favorite.”

“I like them fried, too,” Edmunds, the archivist, said. She sat primly, very erect, eating her food precisely. Norman noticed that she put her knife down between bites.

“Why aren’t these fried?” Norman said.

“We can’t deep-fry down here,” Barnes said. “The hot oil forms a suspension and gums up the air filters. But sauteed is fine.”

“Well, I don’t know about the squid but the shrimps are great,” Ted said. “Aren’t they, Harry?” Ted and Harry were eating shrimp.

“Great shrimp,” Harry said. “Delicious.”

“You know how I feel,” Ted said, “I feel like Captain Nemo. Remember, living underwater off the bounty of the sea?”

“Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea,” Barnes said.

“James Mason,” Ted said. “Remember how he played the organ? Duh-duh-duh, da da da daaaaah da! Bach Toccata and Fugue in D minor.”

“And Kirk Douglas.”

“Kirk Douglas was great.”

“Remember when he fought the giant squid?”

“That was great.”

“Kirk Douglas had an ax, remember?”

“Yeah, and he cut off one of the squid arms.”

“That movie,” Harry said, “scared the hell out of me. I saw it when I was a kid and it scared the hell out of me.”

“I didn’t think it was scary,” Ted said.

“You were older,” Harry said.

“Not that much older.”

“Yes, you were. For a kid it was terrifying. That’s probably why I don’t like squid now.”

“You don’t like squid,” Ted said, “because they’re rubbery and disgusting.”

Barnes said, “That was the movie that made me want to join the Navy.”

“I can imagine,” Ted said. “So romantic and exciting. And a real vision of the wonders of applied science. Who played the professor in that?”

“The professor?”

“Yes, remember there was a professor?”

“I vaguely remember a professor. Old guy.”

“Norman? You remember who was the professor?”

“No, I don’t,” Norman said.

Ted said, “Are you sitting over there keeping an eye on us, Norman?”

“How do you mean?” Norman said.

“Analyzing us. Seeing if we’re cracking up.”

“Yes,” Norman said, smiling. “I am.”

“How’re we doing?” Ted said.

“I would say it is highly significant that a group of scientists can’t remember who played the scientist in a movie they all loved.”

“Well, Kirk Douglas was the hero, that’s why. The scientist wasn’t the hero.”

“Franchot Tone?” Barnes said. “Claude Rains?”

“No, I don’t think so. Fritz somebody?”

“Fritz Weaver?”

They heard a crackle and hiss, and then the sounds of an organ playing the Toccata and Fugue in D minor.

“Great,” Ted said. “I didn’t know we had music down here.”

Edmunds returned to the table. “There’s a tape library, Ted.”

“I don’t know if this is right for dinner,” Barnes said.

“I like it,” Ted said. “Now, if we only had seaweed salad. Isn’t that what Captain Nemo served?”

“Maybe something lighter?” Barnes said.

“Lighter than seaweed?”

“Lighter than Bach.”

“What was the submarine called?” Ted said.

“The Nautilus,” Edmunds said.

“Oh, right. Nautilus.”

“It was the name of the first atomic submarine, too, launched in 1954,” she said. And she gave Ted a bright smile.

“True,” Ted said. “True.”

Norman thought, He’s met his match in irrelevant trivia. Edmunds went to the porthole and said, “Oh, more visitors.”

“What now?” Harry said, looking up quickly.

Frightened? Norman thought. No, just quick, manic. Interested.

“They’re beautiful,” Edmunds was saying. “Some kind of little jellyfish. All around the habitat. We should really film them. What do you think, Dr. Fielding? Should we go film them?”

“I think I’ll just eat now, Jane,” Ted said, a bit severely. Edmunds looked stricken, rejected. Norman thought, I’ll have to watch that. She turned to leave. The others glanced toward the porthole, but nobody left the table.

“Have you ever eaten jellyfish?” Ted said. “I hear they’re a delicacy.”

“Some of them are poisonous,” Beth said. “Toxins in the tentacles.”

“Don’t the Chinese eat jellyfish?” Harry said.

“Yes,” Tina said. “They make a soup, too. My grandmother used to make it in Honolulu.”

“You’re from Honolulu?”

“Mozart would be better for dining,” Barnes said. “Or Beethoven. Something with strings. This organ music is gloomy.”

“Dramatic,” Ted said, playing imaginary keys in the air, in time to the music. Swaying his body like James Mason.

“Gloomy,” Barnes said.

The intercom crackled. “Oh, you should see this,” Edmunds said, over the intercom. “It’s beautiful.”

“Where is she?”

“She must be outside,” Barnes said. He went to the porthole.

“It’s like pink snow,” Edmunds said. They all got up and went to the portholes.

Edmunds was outside with the video camera. They could hardly see her through the dense clouds of jellyfish. The jellyfish were small, the size of a thimble, and a delicate, glowing pink. It was indeed like a snowfall. Some of the jellyfish came quite close to the porthole; they could see them well.

“They have no tentacles,” Harry said. “They’re just little pulsating sacs.”

“That’s how they move,” Beth said. “Muscular contractions expel the water.”

“Like squid,” Ted said.

“Not as developed, but the general idea.”

“They’re sticky,” Edmunds said, over the intercom. “They’re sticking to my suit.”

“That pink color is fantastic,” Ted said. “Like snow in a sunset.”

“Very poetic.”

“I thought so.”

“You would.”

“They’re sticking to my faceplate, too,” Edmunds said. “I have to pull them off. They leave a smeary streak-”

She broke off abruptly, but they could still hear her breathing.

“Can you see her?” Ted said.

“Not very well. She’s there, to the left.”

Over the intercom, Edmunds said, “They seem to be warm. I feel heat on my arms and legs.”

“That’s not right,” Barnes said. He turned to Tina. “Tell her to get out of there.”

Tina ran from the cylinder, toward the communications console.

Norman could hardly see Edmunds any more. He was vaguely aware of a dark shape, moving arms, agitated…

Over the intercom, she said, “The smear on the faceplate-it won’t go away-they seem to be eroding the plastic-and my arms-the fabric is-”

Tina’s voice said, “Jane. Jane, get out of there.”

“On the double,” Barnes shouted. “Tell her on the double!”

Edmunds’s breathing was coming in ragged gasps. “The smears-can’t see very well-I feel-hurts-my arms burning-hurts-they’re eating through-”

“Jane. Come back. Jane. Are you reading? Jane.”

“She’s fallen down,” Harry said. “Look, you can see her lying-”

“-We have to save her,” Ted said, jumping to his feet.

“Nobody move, “ Barnes said.

“But she’s-”

“-Nobody else is going out there, mister.”

Edmunds’s breathing was rapid. She coughed, gasped. “I can’t-I can’t-oh God-”

Edmunds began to scream.

The scream was high-pitched and continuous except for ragged gasps for breath. They could no longer see her through the swarms of jellyfish. They looked at each other, at Barnes. Barnes’s face was rigidly set, his jaw tight, listening to the screams.