It was an ordinary morning, not much different from before. Inside The Octopus, an underwater station beneath Island Coelacanth, LDS wakes up as usual just as luminated letters at the foot of the bed begin to scroll, displaying today’s news flash:

07:17 a.m., November 27th, 2014. 750 m underwater. Coordinates: 27°13’N, 105°39’E. Water pressure stable; indoor temperature 20°C; environmental temperature 5°C. Navigation data: normal. Report of unknown signal test result: unknown signal detected for the 5th night in a row, located around 500 km NW, 375 m underwater. Time of incident: signal first detected at 04:13 a.m. of November 27th, 2014; second time at 05:27 a.m.; data of signal waves have been transmitted to the Center for Data Analysis for further analysis.

LDS put on a frowning look and got out of bed. The flashing, green LCD letters were constantly running forward and being pushed along the limited bar-shaped space. They are the first “species” to greet him every morning – the lively, jumpy letters represent the arrival of new troubles. LDS gulped back – the cabin needs to be kept in a dry environment at all times, and he has yet to get used to it. After he gets up and moves around, the bedroom’s atmosphere lighting lights up accordingly.

Spending long hours working in an environment of such extreme darkness gives rise to fear – in deep waters, the first concern before conducting any human activity is how to see and be seen. This is why the most difficult part, when first constructing The Octopus at 215 km deep under the waters of Island Coelacanth, was the imaging of light. To maintain its operation, The Octopus utilizes temperature difference in ocean floor steepness for power generation – making it the first ever base station to have self-sustaining electric power.

The second issue to tackle was the problem, as pointed out by psychiatrists of the preparatory committee – of how working long hours in uncharted waters might become the cause of traumatization. In 2003, two years before the blueprint for The Octopus was finalized, a heart-wrenching tragedy took place in outer space during a space adventure mission where humans were far more experienced. During the three-year Millennial Exploration project for exploring the planet of Mars, as American astronaut Robert Wilson finished up his extravehicular activity (EVA) and was ready to return to the merely 10-meter-away spacecraft, he mishandled a robotic arm – which was supposed to be a supporting aide – and the machine registered the incident as a threat; as a result, he was forcefully pushed out into the infinite space and vanished thereafter. Subsequent investigation revealed Wilson’s actions to be intentional.

The Octopus adopted a special smart system for environmental adaptation; from the most immediate and sensitive defensive wall of the human body – the skin – the smart system performs unprecedented integrated data collection and analysis, which it then uploads and connects to the whole base station’s environment. “Skin data” has, in recent years, become a popular topic of interest in the field of biological research. More and more studies are showing that data on human skin (including the epidermis, dermis, and hypodermis) can give us an overall sense of an individual’s learnings, environmental adaptability, and emotions.

Emotion – it is one factor that has been largely underestimated.

The Octopus is an aggregate – it is structured with 11 units running different functions that are collaborated by: the -0 cabin, 2 stationary data centers, and 8 compartmental chambers of varying operation duties. The cabin surface is made of a translucent, innovative material that has undergone multiple rounds of waterproof, anticorrosion, and crash testing, and it is structured in alternating soft—hard—soft layers. The soft layers, which are in direct contact with the cabin indoors and outer waters, are a technologically innovative veneer – it is made to camouflage itself as much as possible and to minimize its interference towards the symbiosis of other organisms in the deep-sea ecosystem. This layer of “skin” will detect life forms within a given radius, correctly identify said species, and release an identical same-species scent from its thousands of pores, which are invisible to the naked eye, to prevent these creatures from exercising unnecessary speculation, attack, or damage to The Octopus in the course of their activities. At the same time, “skin data” that is collected from all the chips inserted into each station staff is connected to the cabin environment – the environment that they dwell in. Sandwiched between these two “skin” membranes is a transparent metallic veneer that functions as a control valve – it sensors and records the staff’s daily activities and emotions;subsequently, it adjusts the cabin’s environmental parameters such as temperature, lighting, and sound effects based on such data.

“No wonder it is this gentle, calm blue color again today.” LDS passes through the left-wing corridor and arrives at the palace-like glowing -0 cabin to wait for the daily morning briefings. In such engulfing darkness, these illuminating screens, data, letters and numbers jumping through their calculation schemes look like they are the only lively rhythm in this abyssal submarine other than human heartbeat.

While the station is in its initial state, The Octopus lives up right to its name – resembling an enormous octopus laying in the deep ocean. And when the 8 compartmental cabins are detached from the -0 Cabin, their “mainframe,” the Octopus is then transformed into a lightweight “dragonfly.” They start to operate just like reconnaissance aircrafts leaving their mothership, or lifeboats of a voyage ship, each performing their individual tasks and missions. Cabin A and Cabin G are deep-sea cultivation centers; Cabin B and Cabin X specialize in marine biology; Cabin D and Cabin Y are the base camps for energy engineering; Cabin M hosts the technical support department; Cabin H and the back-up block, Cabin I, function as the center for data storage and analysis – the two blocks follow the design of data storage facilities on land and accompany the -0 Cabin from both lateral sides, building up in the natural undersea cave under the disguise of a what seems like a dragonfly’s wings. Meanwhile, Cabin Z, where LDS resides in, seems somewhat mysterious.

Looking forward to the Millennial (year 2000) brought false hope for everyone. Some anticipated the world’s end while some expected to see the coming of a brand new future. The Island Coelacanth Underwater Station project was proposed by the International Energy Associate, an organization founded in 1999 originally under the philosophy of sustainable living, promoting virtuous development and utilization of natural resources, and exploring uncharted territories. The decision to build a huge station beneath the sea was, of course, due to the fact that no matter how perilous the underwater atmosphere might seem, it is definitely a more stable area for environmental data, especially in the deep sea. Back in 1999, LDS was still a PhD student studying geology at Japan’s National Geography University; at that time, he persistently believed that the world would turn upside-down in the following century – the sky would fall into the ocean whereas the ocean will become the canopy of sky – and human beings would no longer be held back by gravity.

And yet humans had explored the seas far less than they had the space.

After a long-lasting decade of establishing the organization’s structure, areas of research, preliminary preparations, and construction, this first ever super project – Island Coelacanth Underwater Station – was completed in 2009, with its major mission being marine power generation as well as other energy exploitation and conversion. That same year, LDS was a visiting researcher at the Asian Society of Archeology (in the field of sound research) when the team was working primarily in subtropical regions to conduct field studies in prehistoric species. In 2011, LDS embarked on Cabin Z of The Octopus – the department of mysterious marine species. LDS was also a senior researcher for the International Society of Human Geography, and these past experiences served as quite an advantage for him during his mission on The Octopus.

“There is no such thing as a clean energy resource,” was the first thing Commander Orwell said to everyone on the first day of orientation training. Indeed, The Octopus might not necessarily develop a cleaner energy resource than petroleum.

In the communal area, Commander Ellis of Cabin H was reporting the continuous anomalies in recent logs to everyone at the morning briefing.

“This audio signal of an unknown wave band has been detected for the fifth day in a row. We could not find a match for species data in our current database.”

“We analyzed the air molecular level of surrounding sea areas from when the signals appeared in the past five days, and much to our surprise, there was no change at all…”

“Are they messages from a parallel universe? Or is it some kind of unknown life-form? Or perhaps this life-form has a unique sound wave? I think we should create a task force and send a team of members from both Cabins B and Z to investigate the phenomenon closely.”

Ideas flew back and forth, and the argument turned intense out of a sudden. LDS felt a shooting headache, even some nausea. The scenario before his eyes felt somewhat familiar, and slowly, they all became blurred…

It was again a calming blue atmosphere – but it was a different scene: water drop sounds from afar reflected how big the surrounding area could be, clear and transparent.

“If we can’t confirm its coordinates through echolocation using the current database, then we must be crazy to send a crew member out to take such a risk!”

LDS felt like he was in a hazy dream – the echoing noises from fierce quarreling and tapping of waterdrops filled his ears with overlapping sounds, although they seemed to be parallel to each other. His head was still aching; the pale white scene appeared and then disappeared from time to time as if his eyes were window blinds that could adjust to opening and shutting.

“But this is certainly not a simple life form! From the analysis of the sound waves we received, the signals we are dealing with come from a lot of different matters! Something that consists of plastic, glass fiber, and heavy metal! Can these matters even make sounds?”

“Or perhaps…Is this a life form combined of organic and inorganic matter?”

“I still stand firm that, even if LDS has extraordinary hearing ability, that doesn’t mean he needs to personally scout it! Before we can ascertain where that sound comes from, nobody is allowed to leave this cave!”

LDS woke up again. Engulfed by seawater, he felt weightless and dehydrated.

It came to him that, a few years ago, when he was investigating a subtropical region in Southwest China, he ran into an intact set of sea dragon fossils by accident. Failing to withhold his selfish motives, slinkingly, he took away one fossilized tooth. Legend has it that sea dragons were the first inhabitants on this land – a species with a fascinating story of birth. At first, a gigantic dragonfly laid 11 bubbles beneath the water. After the 11 bubbles were born, they spent their youth days playing in the water, light-hearted and carefree. One year, the region underwent a sudden and extremely abnormal climate change – eerily frosty wind came blowing from faraway mountains; the wind brought branches of poplar trees that fell into the ocean and popped several bubbles. The Sea Goddess copulated with the remaining bubbles and laid eggs; only one of them cracked, and it became the ancestor of sea dragons. After tens of thousands of years of adaptation to changes, sea dragons returned to land and evolved into walking human beings.