PodCastle 741: Between The Island and the Deep Blue Sea

* Author : Jaxon Tempest

* Narrator : Soleil Knowles

* Host : Matt Dovey

* Audio Producer : Eric Valdes

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PodCastle 741: Between The Island and the Deep Blue Sea is a PodCastle original.

Rated PG-13

Between The Island and the Deep Blue Sea

By Jaxon Tempest

No one knew how the island floated, but everyone knew it shouldn’t.

Four thousand square miles of concrete bones and metal veins, a million people circulating daily, and yet it sat in the middle of the Atlantic like a feather on a still pond. Even those with the most rudimentary understanding of physics would cry bullshit. Everyone had their theories, of course. Some called it an act of God, others a miracle of science, and a small yet loud minority called it a 10G interface meant to hack into their minds as a part of the new world order. When the three clashed, normal family dinners and rail rides to work turned into a three-ring circus of physics, theology and conspiracy theories.

I watched their interactions with a subdued smile. They were wrong, but their commitment to their ideals was adorable.

In rare instances, the three sides of the debate came together — when outside forces got involved. They came in the form of greedy foreigners with deep pockets and silver tongues. The Bahamas was no stranger to such people, even before the sea rose over the islands. They promised investments and jobs and economic boosts, then took all their money and fled the country at the slightest inconvenience.

It wasn’t different now. Instead of exploiting the sun, sand, and sea, they exploited the island’s secret, chased it like a cryptid. They came with cameras, diving equipment, and promises to uncover the mystery. Despite the warnings from the locals, they dove into the tongue of the ocean.

I killed them all.

First, it was a German engineer who thought the island possessed some secret technology she could replicate. I snapped her neck before she made it fifty feet down. Then came the BBC film crew, twenty strong. The metallic tang of their blood tainted the water for days. I popped the head off a social media influencer and left it on the south sea wall, hoping, in vain, it would deter them.

Human stupidity was as vast and endless as the stars, and as surely as stars burned until they burst, they kept coming. Scientists, free divers, hobbyists. They treated the island’s secret like some grand discovery they could name after themselves or a feat to be conquered — the Mount Everest of the ocean. I’d sooner claw my way to the earth’s core and die in a fiery ball of torment before someone planted their raggedy flag in my domain.

At least my humans knew how to conduct themselves. They spent their summers carousing instead of diving into my waters. Goombay season, they called it, a time of food and drink and Junkanoo. My favorite time of the year.

Lucaya Square was awash in aqua and gold light and draped in colorful feathers and strings of beads. People drifted from end to end, wrapped in luminescent clothes that turned their bodies into walking raves. Vendors lined the east and west side, wafting steam from their carts coloring the air with the scents of conch fritters and grouper fingers. Blenders whirred, bottles shook and cups overflowed with rum and daiquiris.

It was bright. It was loud. It was glorious.

No one gave me a second glance as I waded through the sea of bodies. I looked just like them,