Submerged Relic

I went down to the beach today. There's something about the sea at this time of year. It draws you in, distorts your sense of time. Salty frost on stubby grass, the sand blowing off the tops of the dunes. No-one else for miles.

People love the sound of waves, but it takes grey skies and high winds to really feel it, to understand their never-ending crash, the drum they beat upon the land. It makes me shiver.

I went back to the shore this morning, just for a walk to clear my head. I trod the dunes as usual, my heater turned up in contrast to the freezing winds. But then I saw it.

A clear glass sphere, picked out by the glint of the rising sun. Utterly perfect, no colour to taint it, no chips to spoil its perfect geometry.

I took it, of course. I've marvelled at it all day, watching how the light changes as it passes through, filtered and pure.

The shore walks have become a habit now, a daily ritual. I've walked for miles, treading the sand, crunching shells beneath my feet, searching for another pebble like that first.

I've gotten faster, more efficient. I don't need the sun any more. My torch does just as well, sweeping the rocks, searching for that flicker of light, some hope of reflected perfection.

The only thing that stops me now is the tide, and I almost didn't notice that last night. The salty water around my ankles brought me round.

The suit complains, but I found a way to bypass the salinity alarms. I never need to stop now, whatever mood the tide takes. The water level has risen this year, and without these modifications I'd have lost my old shore paths long ago.

I miss the dunes, but needs must. I can't afford to retreat inland like the others, and besides - the glass looks just as pure and brilliant in the water as it does the air.

I've surveyed uncountable millions, but there's nothing. All the other rocks look so drab and dull, so lifeless, so damaged. No matter how deep I go, there's never anything to match it.

I see whole worlds, stars, reflected in its brilliance. I know there must be more out there.

It's gone.

I took it out this morning and I saw it, faint but unmistakable. A crack, no more than a hair, but enough. Its light no longer pure, but tainted with a crimson diffusion.

I couldn't bear to look at it. After all I've done for it, it lets me down like this? Get out! Broken, awful, stupid -

I found it. It took me days, but I found it. The worst days since I left the surface. I missed it so much.

The fault was all mine. When I found it, it was still as perfect as the day I found it. But my eyes... something is changing.

I'm so glad it's back.

I took my glove off this morning, to better grasp my pebble. The time down here has changed me. How long has it been? I've lost track...the green gave way to blue so long ago.

My hands are clear, pure. The light shines through me. Like glass. I