In the middle of the South Pacific, a group of American scientists is dispatched a thousand feet below the surface to investigate the remains of a huge spaceship discovered on the ocean floor. Among the many mysteries they unlock within is an alien artifact that begins bestowing strange powers upon the crew, including the ability to manifest their thoughts into reality. But when some of those manifestations become more than they can handle, the remaining scientists will have to learn to master their minds if they hope to survive. A reimagining of the squid scene from Sphere:
NOTE: The introductory text is lifted directly from the final act of the original book. I have altered the text into italics where my own modifications begin.
“For most of human history, the giant squid was considered a mythical sea monster, like the kraken. But in 1861 the first reliable scientific reports appeared, after a French warship managed to haul in fragments of one dead animal. And many killed whales which showed scars from giant suckers, testimony of undersea battles. Whales were the only known predator of the giant squid—the only animals large enough to be predators.” –Michael Crichton, Sphere
Beth sat up in her bed in the laboratory and stared at the message Norman had given her.
“Oh my God,” she said. She pushed her thick dark hair away from her face. “How can it be?” she said.
“It all goes together,” Norman said. “Just think. When did the messages start? After Harry came out of the sphere. When did the squid and the other animals first appear? After Harry came out of the sphere.”
“Yes, but—”
“—At first there were little squid, but then, when we were going to eat them, suddenly there were shrimps, too. Just in time for dinner. Why? Because Harry doesn’t like to eat squid.”
Beth said nothing; she just listened.
“And who, as a child, was terrified by the giant squid in Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea?”
“Harry was,” she said. “I remember he said that.”
Norman went on in a rush. “And when does Jerry appear on the screen? When Harry is present. Not at other times. And when does Jerry answer us as we talk? When Harry is in the room to hear what we’re saying. And why can’t Jerry read our mind? Because Harry can’t read our minds. And remember how Barnes kept asking for the name, and Harry wouldn’t ask for it? Why? Because he was afraid the screen would say ‘Harry,’ not ‘Jerry.’”
“And the crewman…”
“Right. The black crewman. Who shows up just as Harry is having a dream of being rescued? A black crewman shows up to rescue us.”
Beth was frowning, thinking. “What about the giant squid?”
“Well, in the middle of its attack, Harry hit his head and was knocked unconscious. Immediately the squid disappeared. It didn’t come back again until Harry woke from his nap, and told you he’d take over.”
“My God,” Beth said.
“Yes,” Norman said. “It explains a lot.”
She was silent for a while, staring at the message. “But how is he doing it?”
“I doubt if he is. At least, not consciously.” Norman had been thinking about this. “Let’s assume,” he said, “that something happened to Harry when he went inside the sphere—he acquired some kind of power while in the sphere.”
“Like what?”
“The power to make things happen just by thinking of them. The power to make his thoughts real.”
Beth frowned. “Make his thoughts real…”
“It’s not so strange,” he said. “Just think: if you were a sculptor, first you would get an idea, and then you would carve it in stone or wood, to make it real. The idea comes first, then the execution follows, with some added effort to create a reality that reflects your prior thoughts. That’s the way the world works for us. We imagine something, and then we try to make it happen. Sometimes the way we make it happen is unconscious—like the guy who just happens to go home unexpectedly at lunchtime and catches his wife in bed with another man. He doesn’t consciously plan it. It just sort of happens by itself.”
“Or the wife who catches the husband in bed with another woman,” Beth said.
“Yes, of course. The point is, we manage to make things happen all the time without thinking about them too much. I don’t think of every word when I talk to you. I just intend to say something and it comes out okay.”
“Yes…”
“So we can make complicated creations like sentences without effort. But we can’t make other complicated creations like sculptures without effort. We believe we have to do something besides simply having an idea.”
“And we do,” Beth said.
“Well, Harry doesn’t. Harry’s gone one step further. He doesn’t have to carve the statue any more. He just gets the idea and things happen by themselves. He manifests things.”
“Harry imagines a frightening squid, and suddenly we have a frightening squid outside our window?”
“Exactly. And when he loses consciousness, the squid disappears.”
“And he got this power from the sphere?”
“Yes.”
Beth frowned. “Why is he doing this? Is he trying to kill us?”
Norman shook his head. “No. I think he’s in over his head.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well,” Norman said, “we’ve considered lots of ideas of what the sphere from another civilization might be. Ted thought it was a trophy or a message—he saw it as a present. Harry thought it had something inside—he saw it as a container. But I wonder if it might be a mine.”
“You mean, an explosive?”
“Not exactly—but a defense, a test. An alien civilization could strew these things around the galaxy, and any intelligence that picks them up would get to experience the power of the sphere. Which is that whatever you think comes true. If you think positive thoughts, you get delicious shrimp for dinner. If you think negative thoughts, you get monsters trying to kill you. Same process, just a matter of content.”
“So, the same way a land mine blows up if you step on it, this sphere destroys people if they have negative thoughts?”
“Or,” he said, “if they simply aren’t in control of their consciousness. Because, if you’re in control of your consciousness, the sphere would have no particular effect. If you’re not in control, it gets rid of you.”
“How can you control a negative thought?” Beth said. She seemed suddenly very agitated. “How can you say to someone, ‘Don’t think of a giant squid?’ The minute you say that, they automatically think of the squid in the course of trying not to think of it.”
“It’s possible to control your thoughts,” Norman said.
“Maybe for a yogi or something.”
“For anybody,” Norman said. “It’s possible to deflect your attention from undesirable thoughts. How do people quit smoking? How do any of us ever change our minds about anything. By controlling our thoughts.”
She suddenly stood and hugged him, her body close to him. “We have to stay together on this,” she said. “We have to stay close, you and I.”
“Yes, we do.”
“Because, if what you are saying is true, then Harry is a very dangerous man.”
“Yes.”
“Just the fact that he is walking around, fully conscious, makes him dangerous.”
“Yes.”
“What are we doing to do about him?”
“Hey, you guys,” Harry said, coming up the stairs. “Is it a private party? Or can anybody join in?”
“Sure,” Norman said, “come on up, Harry,” and he moved away from Beth.
“Was I interrupting something?” Harry said.
“No, no.”
“I don’t want to get in the way of anybody’s sex life.”
“Oh, Harry,” Beth sad. She sat at the lab bench, moving away from Norman.
“Well, you two sure look all charged up about something.”
“Do we?” Norman said.
“Yeah, especially Beth. I think she gets more beautiful every day she’s down here.”
“I’ve noticed that, too,” Norman said, smiling.
“I’ll bet you have. A woman in love. Lucky you.” Harry turned to Beth. “Why are you staring at me like that?”
“I’m not staring,” Beth said.
“You are, too.”
“Harry, I’m not staring.”
“I can tell when someone is staring at me, for Christ’s sake.”
Norman said, “Harry—”
“—I just want to know why you two are looking at me like that. You’re looking at me like I’m a criminal or something.”
“Don’t get paranoid, Harry.”
“Huddling up here, whispering…”
“We weren’t whispering.”
“You were.” Harry looked around the room. “So it’s two white people and one black person now, is that it?”
“Oh, Harry…”
“I’m not stupid, you know. Something’s going on between you, I can tell.”
“Harry,” Norman said, “nothing is going on.”
And then they heard a low insistent beeping, from the communications console downstairs. They exchanged glances, and went downstairs to look.
******
They ran back through the lateral connecting corridor directly from B Cyl into D. Norman noticed in passing that the crewmen had gone. In D, the alarms were clanging and the peripheral sensor screens glowed bright red. Norman glanced at the video monitors.
I AM COMING.
Beth quickly scanned the screens.
“Inner thermals are activated. He’s coming, all right.”
They felt a thump, and Norman turned to look out the porthole. The green squid was already outside, the huge suckered arms coiling around the base of the habitat. One great arm slapped flat against the porthole, the suckers distorted against the glass.
I AM HERE.
“Harryyy!” Beth shouted.
There was a tentative jolt, as squid arms gripped the habitat. The slow, agonizing creak of metal.
Harry came running into the room.
“What is it?”
“You know what it is, Harry!” Beth shouted.
“No, no, what is it?”
“It’s the squid, Harry!”
“Oh my God, no,” Harry moaned.
The habitat shook powerfully. The room lights flickered and went out. There was only flashing red now, from the emergency lights.
Norman turned to him. “Stop it, Harry.”
“What are you talking about?” he cried plaintively.
“You know what I’m talking about, Harry.”
“I don’t!”
“Yes, you do, Harry. It’s you, Harry,” Norman said. “You’re doing it.”
“No, you’re wrong. It’s not me! I swear it’s not me!”
“Yes, Harry,” Norman said. “And if you don’t stop, we’ll all die.”
The habitat shook again. One of the ceiling heaters exploded, showering fragments of hot glass and wire.
“Come on, Harry…”
“No, no!”
“There’s not much time. You know you’re doing it.”
“The habitat can’t take much more, Norman,” Beth said.
“It can’t be me!”
“Yes, Harry. Face it, Harry. Face it now.”
Even as he spoke, Norman was looking for the syringe. He had left it somewhere in this room, but papers were sliding off desktops, monitors crashing to the floor, chaos all around him…
The whole habitat rocked again, and there was a tremendous explosion from another cylinder. New, rising alarms sounded, and a roaring vibration that Norman instantly recognized—water, under great pressure, rushing into the habitat.
“Flooding in C!” Beth shouted, reading the consoles. She ran down the corridor. He heard the metal clang of bulkhead doors as she shut them. The room was filled with salty mist.
Norman pushed Harry against the wall. “Harry! Face it and stop it!”
“It can’t be me, it can’t be me!” Harry moaned.
Another jolting impact, staggering them.
“It can’t be me!” Harry cried. “It has nothing to do with me!”
“This isn’t working, Norman!” He could hear Beth scuttling somewhere behind them. “We need to think of something else,” she said, “before he brings this entire place down around us!”
Norman took a step back. Beth was right. Clearly Harry didn’t have the self-control to stop it, and yelling at him just seemed to be making things worse. But what else could they do? There was no way either of them would find the syringe in time. It was all up to Harry. But Harry didn’t seem up to it. What Norman had told Beth before was true—it was possible for a person to control negative thoughts, to deflect his attention. Was that what they needed to do? Help Harry find somewhere else to direct his thoughts?
Norman put his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Harry, listen to me,” he said urgently. “You have to listen. Do you remember what Beth told us about the giant squid? For years people didn’t believe they were real. Just another sailors’ tale. Do you remember?”
“But they are real, Norman!” The habitat deck trembled again beneath their feet. “It’s real and it’s out there right now!”
“I know, Harry, I know, but you have to listen. Can you remember what else Beth told us? Think about the whales, Harry. If you can’t stop thinking about the squid, maybe you can try to also think about the whales!”
“Whales? Norman, I don’t understand what you’re saying…”
“Didn’t she tell us that whales were the squid’s only predator? The one animal big enough to take them on? Think about it, Harry. Think about what something like that would look like!”
“I don’t want to think about it, Norman…”
“You have to, Harry!” Norman snapped, losing his last nerve. “Think about the whales, Harry! You have to think about them or we’re all dead!”
He felt Beth grab at him from behind. “Norman!” she choked. “Look!”
On the peripheral sensor screens something was happening. The gas-plasma lines had been a consistent red, ever since the three of them had stumbled into D Cyl. But now there was a jump in one of the lines. Norman checked the direction: east. The same direction the squid had come from.
“Another positive on the thermals,” Beth identified it. “There’s something else approaching out there.”
Jerry—the squid—must have sensed it too. The shaking around them stopped suddenly, the suckers pressing against the porthole removed themselves and disappeared. Beth rushed to look out.
“See anything?” Norman said.
“Can’t say for sure,” Beth told him. Her breath was fogging up the glass. “Most of the external lights have gone out. But there’s definitely something there. The squid’s moving towards it.”
The hissing from the hydrophone speakers popped and sputtered, like ticks of a dial being twisted. Norman could barely hear it over the sound of the alarms. With the Cylinder no longer being rattled the whole room seemed unnaturally still.
“That doesn’t sound like a whale,” Norman worried.
“Yes it does,” Beth said. “Not all whales produce song like the humpback. In fact, most subspecies utilize an assortment of different noises, including clicks and grunts, to communicate.” She pointed at the speaker. “That sounds like the vocalization from a sperm whale; probably male, maybe even a full-grown bull. Mature sperm whales can measure as much as sixty feet by the time they reach adulthood.” How many feet had Barnes told them the squid was: thirty, forty? Norman couldn’t remember. “Harry—what did you call it, ‘manifesting?’—Harry manifested a big one.”
Norman turned around. Harry was still leaning against the wall, his eyes shut tight. But at least he didn’t seem as distressed as before. Norman debated whether to try putting a hand on his shoulder again, decided against it.
“It’s okay, Harry,” he said instead. “You can open your eyes. You did it. Come on, Harry. Come and see.”
Norman led him to another of the portholes. Beth was right; most of the external lights had stopped running. Main power must have been knocked out in the attack. Neither he nor Harry could see hardly anything out there, even the squid’s huge suckered arms were little more than faint impressions. And then…
“I see it!” Harry inhaled.
Outside a gray shape was emerging from the murky dark. Norman had never seen a whale before, except in museums and picture books. He’d always thought—despite the reputation of the eponymous creature in Moby Dick—of whales as friendly docile animals. In fact, until Beth had briefed him about the squid Norman hadn’t known that they hunted at all. She’d had to explain to him that whales were divided into two parvorders: Mysticeti and Odontoceti. Mysticeti whales, while technically carnivores, typically foraged on simpler prey like krill and small fish. But Odontoceti—or toothed whales, as they were better known—were fierce predators. Some, like the orca, were even known to hunt their gentler cousins.
Norman had no idea if the thing approaching the habitat was Mysticeti or Odontoceti. But Beth had called it a sperm whale. Were sperm whales toothed? He wasn’t sure. She’d said that they could grow as large as sixty feet, but this one looked even bigger to Norman—and why not? Harry had made it up in his head, it could be as large as he wanted.
“Oh God!” Harry said. “Look at the size of it! Oh God, oh God…”
“It’s all right, Harry. It’s going to help us. See?”
The whale began taking form, a dark blob with a head like a mattock and a long muscular tail. It almost didn’t look like a normal whale to Norman, but more like the outline of a military submarine. The giant squid seemed small and insignificant beside it. For a brief moment the two adversaries squared off, circling each other in the water, measuring. Then the squid suddenly spurted forward, so fast that Norman had barely blinked before it was wrapping huge tentacles around the whale’s snout and body, entangling with it.
The fight was impossible to describe. The two creatures writhed and grappled, entwined together like boxers in a ring; Norman was unable to separate where the whale ended and the squid began. Beth had said that no human had ever actually witnessed a clash between a squid and a whale before, that they were largely conjecture. But he could see immediately how real they must be. For a time the squid seemed to hold its own, scratching at the whale with its tentacle suckers, pulling it closer to the sharp beak—Norman remembered vividly from the attack in the airlock just how strong those tentacles had been. But then, somehow, the whale twisted, managed to secure its own jaws around the soft of the squid’s vulnerable midsection; and bit down so hard that they could all see the spouts of dark liquid as they started coming out from its mouth.
Beside Norman Harry turned away from the porthole, too sick to keep watching. Norman followed, trying to comfort him as best he could.
“You did it,” he kept saying, over and over. “You did it, Harry.”
******
Beth moved swiftly, reading one screen after another.
“Inner off. Peripherals off. Everything off. All right! No readings!”
Norman ran to the porthole. The squid had disappeared. The sea bottom outside was deserted.
“Damage report!” Beth shouted. “Main power out! E Cylinder out! C Cylinder out! B Cylinder…”
Norman spun, looked at her. If B Cyl was gone, their life support would be gone, they would certainly die. “B Cylinder holding,” she said finally. Her body sagged. “We’re okay, Norman.”
Norman collapsed on the carpet, exhausted, suddenly feeling the strain and tension in every part of his body.
It was over. The crisis had passed. They were going to be all right, after all. Norman felt his body relax.
It was over.
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