Marianas

[queeniegalore]

In the depths, the girl reached out an invisible finger and passed it gently through the luminous, ghostly light of an anglerfish, tracing its sharp teeth and lambent jelly eyes. It swam gracefully on, fluttering its lacy fins, and she watched it go, following that tiny pinpoint of light until it was swallowed once more by the darkness.

The girl’s name was Mariana, she was eight years old, and she was dead.

Far away, humanity has discovered the science of talking to ghosts. With a mixture of biology, cosmology, radiology and several other -ologies that had to be invented for the purpose, we can now trace and communicate with the spirits of our dearly departed. Corporations compete to patent the science, and before long they’re charging a premium for the chance to badger the other side. Law enforcement agencies are dizzy with possibilities. Money prints itself.

Mariana was seven when she went to hospital for the last time. After she died, she hung around her grieving family for a while, but then decided that what she really wanted to do was see a vampire squid. So, she spread herself out into gossamer thin strands of self and sank deep into the ocean.

The dead, it turns out, do not want to be contacted.

Most ghosts actively avoid being tracked. They take themselves to the moon. They spread themselves out into the trees, dissolve into lava, escape to the highest mountains. Humanity is hounded even in death, their final rest bought and sold. There are waiting lists years long to try to speak with the likes of Hitler, Gandhi, Alexander the Great. Religious institutions collapse, rebuild, collapse.

Mariana’s uncle had bought her a book about the Marianas trench, because of her name. In those final months, when she was expected to be brave, and cheerful, and smiling, she let her thoughts escape to those crushing depths. A place where there were no hospitals. No crying mothers. No expectations.

Mariana feels cold, but isn’t hurt by it. She finds a giant octopus and nestles among its swaying arms. Far away, the calls of her mother go unanswered, unheard. In the dark, Mariana ignores them all and rests in the deep.