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PREFACE: It's hysterical to think I wrote this shit the same year as Turnabout Holocaust. Not at all sure either where exactly I was going with the "s.S. Lucile".

Creaking of the rustic hull was the only ambiance i would be provided with tonight. On board the s. S. Lucile, luxuries such as company or a glass of kinetic ale were items you wistfully longed over, rather than owned and enjoyed. The aging fishing boat did not completely hold its sole passenger in contempt, however. It bestowed upon me gifts only it could provide, such as multiple leaks to repair and an infestation of nemimites, nemimites being self engineered cockroaches by an insane persian scientist who decided that the average roach simply wasn't annoying enough, and so he decided to splice together random bits of technology to create a cockroach that, well... Randomly renders itself invisible for prolonged periods of time. The man was put to death two weeks after he attended a "meeting of the minds" convention, showcasing his gift he pulled straight from hell.

It seems i'm getting sidetracked again. To suggest i am sidetracked, however, would be to suggest i actually have a job that needs doing, and unless leaning against a smeared window while stomping what could be nemimites is a job, i have no actual set of tasks, so really, being sidetracked is a fabricated idea in itself. I suppose i could make another round on the ship to search for damaged pipes that beg for duct tape and wiremec bands, but i recently decided that i am rather fond of sinking straight into the depths rather than bring back nary a single fish to my boss. My demanding boss who constantly goes on tirades about the dangers of those fancy expensive robots that electrify the water around them, followed by a swift collection of any aquatic lifeforms it rudely ended the life of. I think the only danger is the loss of my boss's business, but to be fair, that should have happened a decade ago when these robots first hit international waters.

Who even is lucile? Why the hell did we have to name a boat after her? Why not a name that's actually relevant nowadays like luciana or luchess? I know ten lucianas and twenty luchesses, but the only lucile that comes to mind is the crazy hag that occupies the apartment cube above mine. Could my boss and insane lady be in a conspiracy together, with the sole intent being to drive me crazy trying to decipher the true meaning of "s. S. Lucile? " this question would never be answered for it was forgotten the moment a loud thonk interrupted the smooth ambiance of hull creaking i was so leisurely enjoying. My augmented glasses took flight from my visage and crash landed into my bunk, followed by my worn and torn new york giants baseball cap discovering its own pilot wings. I hit the floor with a sickening thud and quickly dragged myself up my bunk. I decided to leave the hat where it lay and donned the augmented glasses once more and tapped my foot impatiently as it "initialized" or whatever the hell it does to make the passage of time more annoying. As soon as the message 'perimeters identified: proceed' digitized on my hud interface, i dashed through the cabin doorway, made a sharp turn to the left, ran up a flight of rickety stairs, and ran to the nearest railing to view whatever the hell i crashed into.

Nothing. I can't see a damn thing. I press a small nub on the side of my glasses which brings up a set of menus. I activate my nightvision and scan the area, but i still fail to make out what the fragile lucile crashed into. I activate my heat-based vision and still fail to ma... Wait. What the hell? I peer down and immediately am hit with a visual of a very large, spherical object that's hit the very bottom of my vessel. I scan it for life and come up with exactly one human signature. My mind starts racing with various theories on what the hell this could possibly be. Those fishing robot things i mentioned earlier with a human stowaway? An iceberg trying to re-enact the titanicand titanic ii sinkings, also with a human stowaway? Or... Or a submarine. Oh, shit, it's probably a submarine. I panic.

I quickly dash back into the captain's cabin and retrieve a rebreather, a device invented for the sole purpose of proposing a middle finger to all aquatic life as we, humans, gain the ability to breathe underwater. One wetsuit, flippers, and a tradeoff from augmented glasses to augmented goggles later, i mentally prepare myself for a dive. What if the water is frigid, i think. No, that's stupid, the wetsuit is designed to keep the wearer in comfortable conditions in any circumstance. Okay, but what if the goggles's tech gets all screwy underwater, i propose. Nonsense, the goggles work with 100% perfect functionality... Probably. Okay... But what if i really have to use the bathroom, i demand. You're being ridiculous, i answer myself.

Enough mental gymnastics, into the water! No time to think, jump, jump!