Beacon of Light in the Dark Sea

Chapter 142

Sumire skillfully touched the dog’s body and opened its half-closed eyelids. She squeezed ointment onto the cloudy white eyeballs, gently closed the eyelids, and rubbed them. Despite her extremely long nails, she performed these actions without any hesitation. She was as familiar with these actions as if they were as routine as washing her face or brushing her teeth.

…There are so many unusual tanks in the underwater base that I thought it was a tank at first glance, but is that an animal hyperbaric oxygen chamber in the corner? I looked around the room to see if there was a bag or something to transport the dog, but I didn’t find anything suitable. Could we put the dog in that basket-like carrier? That paper bag is too small.

Sumire slowly stroked the dog’s head with her palm, as if she had all the time in the world. The dog also remained still, breathing heavily, but I couldn’t tell if it couldn’t move or if dogs usually lie like that. It felt like time was slowing down only in this place. As time passed, I grew more anxious and impatient.

“The underwater base might collapse.”

“Lower your voice.”

Did I speak too loudly? Sumire’s voice was soft. While Sumire acted like an irritated lion when talking to others, here she seemed to be adjusting everything she had – noise, time, air – to the dog. It felt like even the sound was being muffled.

Occasionally, the distant sound of the entire underwater base rumbling and shaking uneasily could be heard. I looked at the furball-like dog, whose chest was only rising and falling, and whispered:

“Can’t we put the dog in a bag and move it?”

I’ve already carried a cat and a snake for 3km, putting them in whatever bag I could find. Even I know it’s not a normal way to transport animals, but it might work for this dog too. That dog seemed lighter than a cat.

If I carry Sumire on my back, and Sumire carries the dog, we might be able to make it somehow. Of course, it would be dog-tired work. But we won’t know unless we try. Sumire, shivering slightly from the cold, carefully covered the dog’s body with a light blanket and said:

“Choko can’t handle that kind of stress.”

Then how did you bring it into the underwater base? Guessing that I was curious, Sumire said:

“We came by boat, sedated. I came with the intention of burying it here if it didn’t wake up again.”

Is 30 years old for a dog a lot, or a little?

I’ve only vaguely heard that animals living on the streets die within 3-4 years. I briefly glanced at a newspaper article saying that the life expectancy of pets has increased due to improved living conditions, nutrition, and veterinary medicine, but I wasn’t interested since we don’t keep animals at home. Until twenty years ago, there were two patients in our house, including my mother and me. And even now, keeping an animal is a luxury in our situation.

If I had known I’d meet cats, dogs, or snakes like this, I would have read at least one pet encyclopedia or something. Wondering if this person, who seemed to have no interest in escape or survival, had any connections left on land, I asked:

“Sumire, what about your family?”

“This child is all I have.”

“I mean your family in Japan.”

“This child is all I have.”

“Don’t you have any friends or close people in Japan?”

“This child is all I have.”

Sumire looked at the dog without even glancing at me. Just looking at her responses, she seemed like an android with a recorded voice rather than a human. It was as if she had only let this one pet into her life and alienated everything else. A life where only one dog is of value.

It seemed that the fact that the underwater base had been taken over by the Infinite Bridge, that a torpedo had destroyed the research center, that West District and South District were flooded, and that the life support system in East District had broken down were all completely unimportant to this person. Sumire didn’t seem to care much about her own body either. Rather, I was more concerned about the condition of Sumire’s legs and said:

“Your legs must hurt, why don’t you take some painkillers?”

At those words, Sumire, who was sitting on the bed tending to the dog, reached out and opened a drawer in the corner. From the drawer packed with syringes and pills, she took out a white pill that I assumed was acetaminophen. Then she poured water from a bottle into a cup and swallowed the pill with the water.

“Wasn’t there anyone you got close to or liked in the underwater base? Or any teammates you’re close with?”

Thinking of Baek Ae-young and Shu Ran’s friendship, I asked that, but Sumire didn’t answer, as if it was a question she didn’t like. In the silence, the hand that had been quietly rubbing the dog’s forehead suddenly smiled. Then she said to me in a low voice:

“It’s the first time I’ve seen that person speak so politely.”

“Who?”

“Team Leader Sato Ryusuke.”

“What’s his usual manner of speaking?”

He was polite to me when I came to Deep Blue. Was only the translator polite to me? That can’t be right. Even though my translator is old, it can at least distinguish between formal and informal speech. Trying to recall the speech and attitude of other team leaders, I could only think of Vladimir, Shin Hae-ryang, and Jennifer. Of those, only the first two were with their team members, and if their behavior is considered average, the underwater base can only be thought of as a hellhole for engineers. Sumire answered me with an unenthusiastic tone, accompanied by a yawn:

“He’s never been like that to team members. …Takahashi should have seen that.”

“He asked me about Tamaki’s medical records, didn’t he? Wasn’t he concerned?”

“I only asked because Team Leader Sato told me to. Everything written on the pad gets saved. He probably didn’t want a record to remain. I don’t care what Sato does, who Yamashita uses as a punching bag, who Suzuki feeds needles to, or who Ichita uses a knife on. I say let them do whatever they want.”

Then Sumire just lightly exhaled on the tip of the dog’s ear, sprinkled water on a cloth, and wiped the dog’s face. Realizing that I was watching her actions, Sumire said:

“This child is all I believe in.”

“…Is it difficult to care for people even half as much as you care for the dog?”

I haven’t just met crazy people in the underwater base. There were decent people too. Sumire didn’t seem to think so.

“I hope they all torment each other to death. There are 10 billion of them, aren’t there?”

I haven’t lived long, but I haven’t lived a short life either, and this is the first time I’ve met someone like this. …No, come to think of it, among all the people I’ve met, including those in the underwater base, there isn’t a single person who’s exactly the same.

In everyday life, it’s rare to delve so deeply into other people’s life stories or circumstances. I wonder if there was anyone among the people I’ve met who was even slightly similar to Sumire. They say there’s a general trend of disregard for human life in society, but I didn’t expect to encounter it in this way in a disaster situation.

I don’t know what to say. I’ve never thought I lacked social experience. Why do I find myself at a loss for words in this underwater base? …Well, if a few words could remove misanthropy and instill a will to survive, someone would have already done that to Sumire. And if she had wanted that, Sumire would have grasped the hand extended to her. I decided to awkwardly reach out, even if just with a finger. I didn’t particularly think my action was for Sumire’s sake.

“You liked Shin Hae-ryang, didn’t you? How about contacting him after escaping from here?”

Although Shin Hae-ryang didn’t seem interested in Sumire, Sumire seemed at least somewhat interested, so I threw out that bait. After saying it, I felt like I was trying to lure a child who didn’t want to enter the clinic with a doll or candy.

“…When the helicopter fell into the sea, everyone was busy getting out first. He was the one who cut the broken belt and saved me.”

Thoughts flashed through my mind that Shin Hae-ryang was the main culprit who dropped that helicopter, and when he tried to soak the helicopter carrying Engineer Na’s team in seawater, he only targeted the electronic devices, so maybe he was trying to ensure people didn’t die. Rather than point that out, I just closed my mouth with a sigh.

“I thought he’d want something in return for helping, but there was nothing like that.”

“…Is compensation mandatory here when someone helps?”

Sumire looked at me as if I was making her state the obvious. So I thought I had made a strange statement based on incorrect common sense.

Compensation being mandatory? Sometimes people just help each other as they live their lives. Do they really need to receive payment for that action? Why are the people here so cold? Do people become this cold when they live underwater?

Sumire, sitting on the bed tending to the dog, looked at me for a few seconds and asked:

“Is there something you want?”

I want many things. First, we need at least about five hundred functioning escape pods, or a way to eliminate the phenomenon of time going backwards, or an efficient method to put the Infinite Bridge fanatics in prisons worldwide, or something to report to Korea to please save me.

“I’m getting a headache too, can I have one of those painkillers?”

Sumire opened the drawer again and gave me the entire bottle of pills she had taken from. Rubbing the pill bottle with my hand, I made one last suggestion to Sumire. This is all I’m capable of.

“If we escape from here and go outside, I’ll learn how to do dental care for Choko from a vet and do it secretly for you. If my skills are lacking, I’ll at least apply fluoride to its teeth. Won’t you consider coming with us?”

“I’m staying here.”

I don’t have the ability to take someone who doesn’t want to go, nor can I change her mind. I desperately want to put the dog in a carrier, put Sumire in there too, push them around, and then put them on an escape pod that seems to have fallen from the sky and send them to land. It’s fine now, but we don’t know when East District will flood. You might regret it then. I suppressed that feeling with a silent sigh.

Sumire was now lying peacefully on her bed, looking at the dog. I felt like my presence was an impurity in this room. As I was about to leave the room in disappointment, a sudden thought occurred to me and I asked one last question:

“You didn’t want to talk to others, so why do you answer my questions properly?”

“You were the kindest in this underwater base, doctor.”

Was I? …I don’t remember. I treat everyone who comes to the hospital similarly. I probably didn’t do anything particularly better or worse for Sumire. Sumire’s answer made me feel even more conflicted.

“There are many better people in the world than me.”

Sumire said nothing. As I left, the door to that room closed silently.

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