Again we descended. Other creatures passed us—headless things of black
with illuminated parasites clinging to them; great fishes, star-shaped,
with a brilliant green head in the center and each point of the star as
long as our bodies; fishes, or were they animals? that were all head, it
seemed.
We took heart, for none seemed to notice us. But there was a balloon of
white jelly. It floated past us quite close. It was larger than any one
of us. It seemed harmless and Atar swam beside it. Then suddenly the
thing expanded, lost all its form and like a cloud of white mist,
enveloped him. He screamed and we rushed to his rescue.
In an instant we were all three plunged into a confused, frantic horror
for which I can find no words. Like thick white glue that was sticky,
yet slimy, this almost imponderable stuff fought with us! Fought, I
say—for it was using an intelligence against us! We floundered,
flailing the water with frantic arms and legs. A noisome stench from the
gluey stuff sickened us; the feel of it made our flesh crawl and the
gorge rise in our throats. It was uncannily flimsy stuff. We could tear
it into shreds, fling it away; but always it came back, to weld itself
together. There was an intelligence in it! Not a centralized power of
thought, like a brain, but an instinct for battle that must have been
inherent in every smallest fibre of it.
We escaped at last. How, I do not know. Perhaps the thing wearied of us.
And as we struggled away exhausted, with its horrible gluey particles
which we had breathed in choking our lungs—we saw it floating off,
ragged but still balloon-like, its original shape almost unimpaired.
* * * * *
We reached at last the bottom of the void. It was not level, but tumbled
as though some cataclysm of nature had tossed it about. Banks of black
ooze, a hundred feet high, were honeycombed with holes; valleys were
beside them—valleys bristling with stalactites of black and white coral
which stood up like pointed spears to impale the unwary trespasser. And
there were miniature volcanic-looking peaks—cone-shaped. From one of
them a stream of water almost hot, was issuing.
Frequently now, we saw lights; and all of them were the naturally
lighted heads and bodies of swimming creatures. They moved about lazily,
confidently, ignoring us; and we knew that when they were hungry they
would feed, either upon others smaller of their kind—or upon us.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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