Foundations of Ethics and Diversity submissions are open to essays completed for UF 200. Students are encouraged to submit an essay exploring civic, ethical, and/or diversity on a local, regional, national or international topic. If the essay is the product of a team project, all names must be submitted and all team members will share the award. Essays should not exceed 20 pages. Madi Hardy wrote the 2nd place submission in the Foundations of Ethics and Diversity category for the 2025 President’s Writing Awards.
About Madi
I’m a second-year student at Boise State majoring in Creative Writing, with a minor in ASL. I love writing whenever I can find the time. Horror is one of my favorite genres to write, despite me being a very cheerful person. If I’m not writing I’m usually either reading, crocheting, or playing videogames with my brother.
Winning Manuscript – Scrap Metal Birds
Karina glares at her wrist monitor. There was a request sent to her from one of her neighbors. They wanted her to fix their synthlights. She groans as she reads the short message:
Karina,
This is Lola from across the hall. Our synthlights are on the fritz again. Is there any way you could stop by and look at them? I know you’re busy, but it would mean a lot.
She doesn’t have time for this. She needs to get down to the market to pick up food. Karina also has to stop by her boss’ office. She noticed he was docking her hours on the schedule, and she’s worried about what that might mean.
A loud, wracking cough comes from Piper’s room.
Karina rushes in and sees Piper, tears streaming down her face as she coughs violently. Kneeling down beside her sister, Karina gently pats her back. After Piper’s coughing fit has subsided, Karina glances around the room. “It’s a little cold. Is your vent broken again?”
Piper nods. “It broke last night, but you were out working. I forgot to tell you when you got back this morning.” Piper’s forehead feels hot when Karina presses the back of her hand against it. She’ll have to fix that vent, and get some cold medicine.
Her wrist monitor buzzes again, and she claps a hand over it. Piper glances at the monitor and raises a questioning eyebrow. “Who’s the message from?”
“No one,” Karina responds. She glances at it from beneath her hand and sees Lola’s name on the screen. Great. She’ll have to deal with that later.
“Is it the neighbors? The one with the little boy—he’s like me.” Piper’s expression is earnest as she says, “Jolie was talking to me on my screen, and said that they needed help fixing things. Are you going to go help them?”
If she tells Piper no, Piper will refuse to let Karina fix the vent. She’ll force Karina to go help Lola first. Karina grits her teeth and sighs deeply. “Yes. After I do some errands.”
Lola’s place is even more rundown than Karina’s. Karina ducks to avoid hitting her head on the low doorway. Inside the small series of rooms, there’s clutter everywhere. She almost steps on a comb, but stops herself.
A disheveled woman appears around a corner. It’s Lola, and her face brightens. “You came! I’m so glad! Here, it’s through here.” She ducks back around the corner and Karina rushes to catch up with her.
They walk down a short hallway and enter a room with a lovely green door. “This is Elijah’s room. He can’t leave, unfortunately. I hope that won’t keep you from being able to fix the lights?”
Karina looks around the room, surprised. There’s medical equipment everywhere. She looks over in the corner and can see a small glass… cube. Inside, a little boy blinks up at her. There are tubes connected to the chamber, hooked up to a machine in the wall that Karina assumes is an oxygen machine.
“Hello,” she says, keeping her voice soft. Her face, usually wearing a hard expression, relaxes as well. She glances back at Lola. “I didn’t realize he was… this bad.”
Lola nods, and Karina can see that her eyes are shiny. “He was born with Videf. The medics did all they could to keep him healthy, but he ended up catching pneumonia. There were complications, and his lungs were badly damaged. Thank you for helping, Karina. Fixing the lights could take who knows how long if I went through the maintenance people. And there’s no guarantee that they’d even be willing to fix it. And who knows how high their bill would be.” At this Lola winces. “Ah, we’ll have to discuss payment, of course. After you fix them, we can me– ”
“No,” Karina cuts her off. “No payment.”
“What?”
She nods at Elijah, watching them as he fiddles with a small screen. “I’ll do this for free.
You need it.” She adds in a quiet whisper, “I understand. Piper is… well, I get why you’re in need of help.”
Videf is a disease that affects nearly all of Capricorn’s poor population. Videf is the result of living so far from sunlight, and being unable to afford proper solinfuser lights. Karina can vaguely remember the days that her family could afford them. She remembers they were a lot warmer, and brighter too. Now, all they have are the crappy synthlights that barely produce enough light to cook by. Still, she knows just how precious those crappy synthlights can be.
Lola’s unshed tears begin to slip down her cheeks. She reaches out and grabs Karina’s hand, holding in both of hers. “Thank you! Thank you, Karina! You have no idea how much this means to us.” She leaves the room.
Karina watches her go before she pulls out her tools from the bag slung over her shoulder. She surveys the broken lights, watching one flicker in and out, the other dead. It’s sure to be a wiring issue.
Elijah coughs. After his coughs subside, he asks, “What’s that?” His hand is pointing to the drill in Karina’s hand.
“Uh, it’s an electromag drill. I’m going to use it to fix your lights.” She walks over to his chamber and kneels beside it. She holds the drill up for him to see. “I’m going to open a panel in the wall and look at the wires. If there’s a problem with them, I’ll be able to fix it. Or replace them if I need to. I’m also going to turn off the lights when I start, so it will get a little dark.”
“Oh.” He doesn’t say anything else. He turns his screen on and Karina can see an image of a cartoon whale.
“What’s that?” She asks, mirroring his curiosity from before.
“A picture book,” he says, holding it up to show her. “It’s about whales. Did you know that they used to live in the ocean? And they sing!” He presses a button on the screen and Karina can hear a low, moaning whale song.
She widens her eyes, exaggerating her interest. “Wow! That’s amazing! Are whales your favorite animal?” She can remember when Piper was this young. She loved playing with Piper, showing her all sorts of things, listening to Piper’s excited remarks. Against her better judgment, Karina can feel herself warming up to Elijah very quickly.
He nods. “I like singing. Do you want to hear a song I made about whales?”
She nods back. “I would love to. Maybe you can sing it to me while I work?” She holds up her drill. “I’ll make sure to listen carefully, okay?”
“Okay!” He chirps. He then launches into a slightly off-key sounding song about whales, how they sing, and how he wants to sing with the whales.
Karina listens to him, her eyes watering as she recalls Piper’s earlier years. When Piper still had the energy to run around, she would make up little dances to do with Karina. Karina can recall Jolie playing soft piano music for them to dance.
As she begins to remove the panel from the wall, she hears him switch to another song. This one is sadder, and he draws out his words to mimic the whale song. When he finishes, Karina says, “That was beautiful.”
“Thanks! I made one about dolphins, do you wanna hear?”
Dolphins were extinct, and had been for so long. But they were Karina’s favorite animal. She would have loved to see one. “Sure, let’s hear it.” She carefully removes the panel and sighs as she looks at the tangled mess of wiring. Whoever had tried to fix the lights before was incompetent. She flips the switch to cut power to the lights, and the room darkens.
Elijah’s dolphin song is interesting, interspersed with whistling and tongue-clicking, like dolphin-speech. It makes Karina laugh a few times, as the lyrics are ridiculous. Elijah ends his song and giggles.
“That was a great song,” Karina says, untangling a red and a green wire. “Do you like learning about animals?”
“Yeah. The really old ones. Our animals are scary. I don’t want to see a ghost shark for real life!” Elijah coughs after speaking, and the sound breaks Karina’s heart.
“They are kind of scary sometimes,” she agrees. But have you ever seen a starnet?” He shakes his head. “What’s a starnet?”
She hums in thought. “I don’t know if they have an actual name, but you only see them when it’s really dark. They look like nets, but made up of tiny twinkling stars. I think they’re actually really itty bitty animals, all hugged tight so they don’t get separated.” She snips a black wire, which was burnt on a detached end.
“Whoa! I’ve never heard of that!” Elijah looks at her with awe in his eyes. “That’s so cool! I wish I could see!”
She smiles at him over her shoulder. “I’ll have to take a picture next time I see one. I’ll come back and show you.” As soon as the words leave her mouth, Karina is shocked at herself. Coming back to a neighbor’s place, especially for something non-mechanical-related, is extremely unlike her. But when she looks at Elijah, all she can think of is Piper. Piper, who loves sea creatures just as much as Karina does. As much as Elijah does.
Karina speed walks to her makeshift lab, having given Piper some excuse about extra work this morning. It’s really an unused storage room. She’d moved all of the boxes to one end and created a large space where she could build her very own submarine.
It’s based on what submarines she could find photos of. It looks odd and eclectic, an amalgamation of different pieces of metal and whatever components she could find. The wiring is atrocious, and she’s pretty sure the old comm system she stole from a broken down security port isn’t functionable.
As she enters the storage room, she grins. There it is, in all its rundown glory. She’s decided to name it Haphaestus, after the Greek god. It’s going to be her and Piper’s ticket out of this joint.
Karina would never admit it to anyone, but she often finds herself talking to Haphaestus. “Look, I brought you something.” She holds up her hip pack. “I found some pretty nice scraps while I was out with Jolie. She’s got an eye for titanium steel.” Karina dumps the contents of her pack onto one of the storage boxes, already covered in various bits and bobs.
A few tools and a handful of minimizer discs fall onto the box. Karina sifts through the discs before she finds a particular one. It’s marked with a dot of blue marker. She holds it up. “We found this in an ancient U-boat. I’m surprised it hadn’t deteriorated already.”
She places the minimizer disc on the floor and then presses a button on her wrist monitor. The disc flashes a bright white before the item inside returns to its normal size. The item is a large sheet of metal with a porthole window on it. The glass is still intact and clear enough to see through.
Karina examines the huge sheet of metal. It’s rusted, slightly warped, and she can see a few missing bolts. But it’s perfect for her.
She starts by giving it an acid wash. Karina picks up a small bottle and sprays the sheet, careful to avoid the window. When the first side is coated, she sets the bottle down. Orange flecked foam starts to bubble on the surface of the sheet. The acid wash is doing its job.
The window gets a few sprays of silver liquid. A blue cloth wipes away the liquid and the outside of the window is like new. The acid wash is beginning to hiss.
“Whoops.”
Karina grabs a bottle of water and dumps it onto the sheet. The water washes away the acid and leaves the sheet shiny. The solution of acid and rust slowly drifts toward Karina’s boots, so she pulls a tablet from her pocket and drops it into the foaming liquid. It hisses a few times, but then stops.
The minimizer disc gets placed back into the sheet. She pulls up the controls on her monitor and presses a button different from usual. The sheet shrinks to the size of her foot. Karina picks it up with ease and flips it over to reveal the other side. She holds it up for a moment and grabs the minimizer disc. She puts it on the face up side.
Another press of a button and it’s back to normal. The minimizer disc goes back into her pocket, and the cleaning process is repeated.
Karina loves this process. She loves having a task that’s so easy she doesn’t have to think about it. Instead, she can think about her sub, about her plan. Hephaestus is her way of getting Piper to a safer, healthier place. It’s her way of leaving behind all of the people who have never done anything for her.
What about Jolie? A small voice in her head interrupts her thoughts.
Karina sighs. This isn’t the first time she’s thought that. Of course she wants to take Jolie and even Tyrus with them. She isn’t able to access blueprints for any larger subs than a two- person leisure vehicle from a few decades ago. It just won’t work out.
Her heart aches when she thinks about it. Somehow, through the years, Jolie has managed to break past the iron wall surrounding Karina’s heart. Tyrus, with his excitement about marine creatures and his friendship with Piper has managed to chip away at her defenses.
Karina can’t help thinking that it hurts to care about someone else. The more people you care about, the more painful it is.
The paper is still sitting on Karina’s desk, buried under a mountain of blueprints and overdue payment notices. Karina can feel its physical presence. It was delivered to the wrong address, and even though Karina isn’t one to open other people’s mail, the name on the envelope had her tearing it open almost immediately.
Darren Deepfathom.
Inventor and researcher extraordinaire. His name is on everyone’s tongue these days. Every time she leaves her and her sister’s living quarters, she hears something new about what he’s working on or accomplished.
The letter was simple. Deceptively simple.
Prometheus 2 and 3 ready for testing. 4 and 5 are built but need approval. 6-13 are in the final stages of construction. Will be ready for launching by the end of the month. Deterioration is increasing speed. Removal training under way, taking place Thursday nights @ Poseidon meeting hall.
Signed, Kano
Prometheus is Darren’s submarine. It’s one of the only complete submarines in their settlement, DW-24-05, or Capricorn. The Prometheus is supposed to be a research vessel. Karina has only seen it in action once, when it was taken out to explore a swarm of abnormally aggressive ghost sharks.
Why were they duplicating Prometheus? That had been her first question. It was easily answered by the rest of the letter. Because Capricorn is falling apart. Karina notices more and more every day. She had to fix Elijah’s lights. Yesterday, she had to fix the synthlights in her own kitchen. They were turning a ghastly shade of infection yellow instead of their usual cheerful sunshine color.
The actual duplication of the submarine wasn’t what made her blood boil. No, it was the fact that they were deciding who got to live based on money.
Everyone knew that the Thursday Poseidon Hall meetings were by invitation only. It was obvious that nepotism and bribery were involved. Only those who could pay got in, and no one from Karina’s sector of Capricorn had anywhere near enough money. Her included.
Karina stares at the pile hiding the letter. She’s already memorized it, the words seared into her brain. She just can’t stop looking at it. What is she going to do? She shouldn’t have seen the letter, obviously. It wasn’t meant for her. But how is she going to proceed?
She paces around her room, dodging a tool bag and three stacks of books. She can’t just ignore the letter. Karina can feel the rage bubbling in her stomach. They’re just going to leave people here! People who will die because of them! Piper, she thinks, that’s who will die.
Even so, what can she even do? Confronting the Council and Darren about it just seems like a stupid thing to do. They’d probably deny everything and act as if Karina was losing her mind. Why would they leave their people behind, that’s absurd.
Her teeth scrape together as she works her jaw. What could she do to show that what they’re doing is wrong? Something that would send a message without putting her at risk.
Something that would upset their plans long enough for her to decide whether or not she should tell anyone else.
An idea crosses her mind. It’s a little crazy.
Okay, it’s a lot crazy.
If it’s the Prometheus that they’re duplicating, that means that they still have the blueprints. That Darren still has the blueprints. If he still has the blueprints, they are bound to be somewhere in his lab. If Karina can sneak in, find the blueprints, and take them, then they’ll have to acknowledge the problems with what they’re doing.
She grimaces. There’s still the chance that she could be caught. If they find out she stole from Darren Deepfathom, it could get her in serious trouble. It could get Piper in trouble.
Yet, what’s the worst they could do? Lock her up? Send Piper to live with someone else? If Karina doesn’t do anything, then Piper will have to live the rest of her life in a decaying, metal coffin. If she doesn’t do anything, Elijah will have to spend the rest of his life in a glass box in a tiny room. If she doesn’t do anything, everyone on Capricorn will have to spend the rest of their lives here.
Karina shakes her head. She stops and sits on the edge of her bed. She runs a hand through her hair, It’s getting long. She’s going to have to cut it soon, or it’ll get in the way while she’s scrapping. Karina stiffens. Scrapping… her scrapping suit has extra minimizer discs.
She can remember a mission where she and Jolie had entered a Titan-350. It was a high security war ship that had built in security systems that immediately went into lockdown if the ship sank, something about not letting enemies dredge for secrets. They’d used Karina’s minimizer discs to shrink the cameras, disabling them.
If she can use that same trick, then she won’t be caught. They won’t know it was her, and if she needs to, she could reveal her hand and use the blueprints as a bargaining chip. This would force them to think about what they’re doing.
This would be her ticket to getting Piper off Capricorn. This would be her way of protecting her sister. So, that’s why she’s doing this. That’s why she has to do this.
Although she keeps telling herself this, all Karina could think about was how much this man had stolen from her. He’s caused her pain for so long, it’s soaked into every corner of her life. He stole from her mother, after he heartlessly killed her.
He owes her, and Karina is going to take from him what he took from her, from her mother.
She can’t steal the entire submarine, because of its size. It will be easier and more impactful to take the blueprints. They were her mother’s blueprints, and Karina is certain that her mother would rather they go to Karina than to a man like Darren. Those precious blueprints are her birthright, and she’s not going to let him have them for any longer.
That’s why she has a map of the underground maintenance tunnels. That’s why she’s going to do something she never thought she could. She’s going to steal something from the man that ruined her life.
Her heart beats a painful thump against her ribcage as she looks down at the map. The tunnels criss-cross through Capricorn in an endless labyrinth, but she’s certain she can figure it out. She’ll have a map of the tunnels on her wrist monitor, and she’ll rely on the burning anger in her chest to fuel her.
She’s more than ready to do this. But, there’s one tiny detail holding her back. The tunnels themselves are barely wide enough for an adult to squeeze through. There’s a reason the engineers usually send their teenage apprentices through the tunnels to fix things.
Karina loathes admitting it, but she has a terrible, crippling fear of tight spaces. She isn’t sure when or where it came from, but it’s been with her for as long as she can remember.
Crowded rooms set her panic off, people pressed against her like produce wrapped tight in cellophane.
If she gets stuck—no, she can’t think about that. Keep moving, will be her motto, mantra, and prayer. Keep moving, little sparrow.
Karina frowns as her mother’s voice echoes in her head. She reaches up and touches the tiny pendant around her neck. It’s a simple piece of steel that her mother had carefully carved into the shape of a sparrow, the nickname she’d given Karina when she was three. She feels eight-years-old again, crying while staring out a port window into the dark abyss of the ocean. Screaming for her Mom to please, please come home, come back to me.
She shakes her head to clear her thoughts. This isn’t going to be easy, but it is necessary. Necessary for Piper, and for Karina’s own conscience. If she can get the Prometheus, she can take Piper up to the surface, to the dome that marks the last settlement aboveground. GW-19-06- 08, Gaia. Their settlement is under the actual sun. The sun that could cure Piper, strengthen her and keep her healthy.
Their mother had hated the idea of not being able to see the sunlight. She always bought the freshest produce from the Gaia shipments, and made sure that the solinfusers were turned up to their brightest setting. The best day of Karina’s life was when her mother had bought a young tree to plant in a small greenhouse. She and Piper would sit next to the tree, babbling to it as they attempted to read picture books from their little elec-readers.
He always suggested they add some sure-growth formula to the dirt, to get the tree to grow faster. Their mother objected every time, stating that the girls and the tree would benefit from natural growth.
It’s that spirit that Karina wants to continue. She’s going to bring Piper to Gaia, and give her the best life possible. Karina’s mechanic abilities and knowledge of machinery could surely land her a job. If not, she’d sell the Prometheus and use that money to figure things out.
For now, she has a different kind of job to tackle. The one that involves not losing her mind in an impossibly tight and absolutely terrifying tunnel.
Beep, beep!
Karina startles. It’s time.
She slips into her diving suit, leaving the helmet in its place on the shelf beside their door. The smooth black will help her blend in with the shadows of the darkening halls, while the wrist monitor will provide the map of the tunnels. There’s a few other additions that might come in handy. Karina’s diving suit, like that of her fellow scrappers, is modified to fit her specific job.
Karina collects materials that she and her scrapping partner, Jolie, harvest. Jolie’s suit is made up of material that the woman designed herself, steelsheets infused with jotium-diamond plating that allow her to perform impressive feats of strength. Karina has seen Jolie kick in a five-foot thick steel door. Karina’s suit is equipped with extra storage pockets for the particle minimizer discs that hold the harvested materials. She also equipped it with a laser in the gloves, activated when she makes a finger gun—she’s quite proud of that.
Piper’s bedroom door is ajar when Karina goes to check on her. She pokes her head in and frowns. Her sister has the sheets tangled around her feet, the rest of her body exposed to the cool air. Her skin has goosebumps and Karina can see a thin sheet of sweat on her forehead. Piper turns in her sleep, her face towards Karina. Her face is scrunched into a pain-filled frown, her body trembling ever-so-slightly.
Jaw clenching, Karina shuts the bedroom door.
Karina can see the entrance to the tunnel up ahead. The hallway is dim, thanks to the council deeming hallways lights “a luxury” that doesn’t need funding. For tonight, it works in Karina’s favor. She glances over her shoulder as she slips her favorite wrench out of its storage pocket. “Just a gentle touch and we’re in,” she whispers to herself. The bolts come loose easily, most likely from how often the assistants have to go down for maintenance.
The tunnel itself is dark. She’d been able to keep herself from falling over the edge of her rising panic until this. She wishes she’d brought her diving helmet with its bright headlights. She’ll have to settle for the smaller, dimmer wrist light. It clicks on and barely illuminates the ladder down into the tunnels.
It takes at least five more minutes before Karina is ready—as ready as possible—to climb down. Her hands shake as she grabs onto the first rung and lowers herself into the tunnel. The entrance is wider than the tunnels themselves. This thought runs through her head as she sticks a hand out. It extends a foot to the side before her fingers hit the wall.
Another two minutes pass before she gets her foot down a rung. The rest come a little easier, her body switching to autopilot. Her mind fishtails between thinking about the enormity of her task, and the IV-drip-tube-sized tunnel she’s about to squeeze through.
When she reaches the bottom of the ladder, her entire body is shaking. She stares into the dark tunnel and bites her lip. It’s impossible. She won’t make it.
No, she has to make it. For Piper. Her sister is counting on her. Karina kneels down and points her wrist light into the tunnel. It illuminates very little of the tunnel, but enough that Karina is able to force herself to move.
Things go well for a few scooting, inching minutes. Then, Karina’s shoulder brushes against the side of the tunnel and her whole body freezes. Her heart races as her mind tunnel visions on the walls less than an inch away. Her brain unhelpfully supplies her with facts about the tunnels. Specifically, the fact that there are thousands of tons of metal sitting above her head. Thousands of tons of metal that are in need of repair and are prone to collapsing.
She sucks in rapid breaths as her vision darkens at the edges. The tunnels seem to press in even closer, and Karina can feel her lungs tightening. In the back of her mind, Karina thinks that there might be someone who can help. It’s a longshot, if she’ll even be awake at this moment. If she’ll even help.
Karina tries to press the button on her wrist monitor, the one that will call Jolie. It takes a few moments before she can steady her finger enough to press the right button, but then she sees the call on screen. It rings for a few minutes. Long enough that Karina knows Jolie isn’t going to pick up. A sob builds in her chest.
“Hello?” A sleepy voice comes from her wrist monitor. “Hey, Karina?”
Karina blinks open her tear-filled eyes and feels a sliver of hope. She opens her mouth to say something, but the panic in her chest twinges and she can’t get the words out. Instead, she lets out a wheeze.
Jolie sounds much more awake when she speaks again. “Karina? Are you alright? What’s going on?”
Karina doesn’t say anything.
“Where are you? Do you need help? What’s going on?” Jolie’s voice rises in concern, and there are muffled sounds coming from the monitor. When Jolie speaks again, her voice is hushed but still urgent. “Tell me what’s happening. Let me help you.”
Karina still can’t force herself to say anything, but she sends Jolie a message on her monitor. A few moments later, she can hear Jolie mumbling.
“King crab!” Jolie gasps. “Oh, Karina! I’m here. Don’t worry.”
King crab is their code for when one of them is having a panic attack. They’d come up with it after a few close calls during missions. Karina isn’t even sure why they picked that particular phrase, but it’s saved them both before.
“Take deep breaths Karina. Do you remember when you helped me in that freighter, when our lights went out? We could only communicate on our monitors, but you helped me keep from panicking in the dark. I’m gonna help you, okay? I’ve seen you get nervous when we’re in tight spaces, and I know how it feels. I’m here for you.” Karina uses Jolie’s words and her breathing techniques to propel herself forward, inch by painstaking inch.
Karina unscrews the bolts to the tunnel entrance and shoves the grate aside. She drags herself out of the tunnel and lays on her back for a few moments, breathing heavily. After a few moments of simply existing, Karina sits up.
She surveys the dark room. Before she stands, she locates the two red dots in the dark that signify the security cameras. She loads two minimizer discs into her suit’s wrist launcher and aims. The first one she misses, cursing under her breath. The disc clinks to the ground. The next shot hits the camera, and the camera shrinks with the press of a button on her monitor. She celebrates for a moment after the second camera shrinks.
The lab’s lights click on when she stands up. They are bright and cheerful, the stupid solinfuser lights that she could never afford. The ones that so many of Capricorn’s inhabitants can’t afford. Karina looks around for a few moments.
It’s exactly as she remembers.
There’s a large corner desk with a chair and three computer monitors set up. Notes and papers—actual papers, the egotistical big shot—litter every possible surface, covered in scrawling handwriting. On one end of the large lab are the dock doors. The docking bay houses the Prometheus, as well as more water-based equipment that Darren has been developing. A table is in the middle of the lab, with various tools and what looks to be the shell of an ROV.
Karina ignores this and heads to a large metal bookshelf near the desk. The bookshelf has various academic texts, as well as holofiles. She searches through these, sure that he’d have put the blueprints for the Prometheus in the files.
She finds one labeled Submarine and pulls it off the shelf. The thin rectangle blinks to life, and a 3D, holographic version of the Prometheus greets her. She rotates the blueprints for av few moments, admiring the details. When she presses a certain feature, it brings up the specifications of each piece and the building instructions. It’s incredible. It’s hers.
She places a minimizer disc on the holofile and shrinks it. The little circle sits in her palm for a few moments, and she wraps her fingers around it. Karina holds it over her heart for a few moments, blinking back tears that are forming in her eyes. This is for her mother, who had everything torn away from her.
Finding the paper version of the blueprints is harder. Karina wasn’t sure if he’d be idiotic enough to keep them just sitting on the desk, and she’s right. She looks at every single paper and scrap, but doesn’t find any blueprints. It’s when she finally finds an inconspicuous drawer that she gets her prize.
She opens the drawer and immediately spots the rolled up paper. She grabs it and is about to close the drawer, before she notices something else. A framed photo. Most photos are in holoframes, uploaded to monitors, and available in every way online. It’s not everyday one sees a real, printed photo.
That isn’t what causes her heart to drop. No, it’s the photo itself.
It’s simple. Four people, all smiling at the camera. Two little girls, each in the lap of a parent. One older, with messy black hair, the other younger, with glasses.
Karina’s breath hitches as she’s hit with memories.
Her mother, straightening his tie, patting Karina’s shoulder. Piper grabbing onto his arm, begging to be picked up. The four of them, staring at the camera and smiling, a happy family.
It was only two days later that he came home, without their mother. He came home with crocodile tears in his eyes as he held them, told them that their mother had been caught in an accident. He promised that he would make everything better for them. Liar.
Later, when Karina was brave enough to watch the monitor videos, she learned the truth. He had abandoned her mother, left her side in a dangerous area. While he was elsewhere, her mother had been caught in an explosion. Karina remembers imagining her mother, screaming, unable to make a sound because Capricorn’s divers use liquid breathing. At least she couldn’t have drowned, people would tell her, drowning is the worst way to die.
Karina takes the picture out of its frame, her fingers shaking. She stares at it for a few more minutes before she promptly rips his face off. It isn’t as if she’s actually hurting him, but it feels so good to commit this imaginary violence. A small bit of recompense. She tucks the picture of her family into one of her pockets, beside her favorite wrench, a gift from her mother before she died.
She looks at the blueprints in her hand and then at the pieces of his picture floating to the ground. She laughs out loud, a harsh sound. “Screw you,” she spits at his scraps. “I hope you burn, just like my mother, so you know how it feels.”
With that, she holds the blueprints away from herself and points her laser at them. The beam cuts through the paper like air, the heat catching them on fire. She drops the burning parchment into the open drawer and watches it burn. In a moment, nothing will be left but ashes.
Karina notices one of the ROV’s batteries is sitting on the desk. She picks it up and holds it with careful fingers. “Notoriously finicky, these are,” she comments out loud. A smile slowly lights up her face. “It’s a shame that they burst when jostled too much. And, it’s a shame that a malfunction in the maintenance tunnels caused an air pipe to burst underneath the lab.”
She sets the battery in the drawer with the ashes of the blueprint. She picks up every little scrap of his picture and dumps them unceremoniously into the drawer. Karina then shuts the drawer and looks around the lab one last time. This is the last time she’ll ever be in here, despite many childhood years of playing in this very room.
She says a silent goodbye to the memories, and goes back to the tunnel. Before she leaves, she places a small disposable shockwave device against one of the air pipes connected to the lab. It’s set to go off when she presses a button on her monitor. When it does go off, the air pipe will burst, and with that the whole lab will pressurize until it bursts—most likely through the tunnels. It will send a blast through the tunnel system, but Karina will be out of the tunnels by the time that happens. It’s easier to make her way through. Jolie’s words help, as she remembers them.
Karina touches the bird pendant around her neck, and thinks of her mother.
It also helps that she’s going to get a small bit of the debt that her father owes her. No, that Darren Deepfathom owes her. He stopped being her father the same day that she lost her mother. The day she left behind the name Karina Deepfathom.
And this isn’t just her debt. This is a debt that he owes to every person in Capricorn who struggles every day. Who can’t afford the simplest luxuries, like proper lighting and the right to not die. This is for Karina’s neighbor, whose son is suffering the same soul-crushing disease as Piper.
This is only the beginning.