Telephones Stay Ashore

Wednesday. A man tried to bring his telephone aboard today, in his sock. Barnacle found it. Barnacle finds everything.

Nothing that records comes into my submarine: no telephones, no watches that talk, no cameras. They go in the lockers by the door, which cost nothing and lock properly. I have spent a lifetime getting away from the land. I will not have it ringing at twenty thousand leagues.

Halfway through the hour, a woman in his party named Ruth felt unwell and wanted out. She pressed the button for exactly that purpose, and the gamesmaster, who watches everything aboard, opened up at once. She sat outside to catch her breath while the others carried on. That is what the button is for. I sometimes wish I had one.

Ruth was fine. The man with the sock was very quiet afterwards. I believe he had hoped to photograph the Beast. Nobody photographs the Beast. I have tried.