This is a [SerialStory] with tags [SS] and [Subm] titled 'Submersible.'

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( Here is a link to part #1 so you can start at the beginning. )

( Find other items in the series - search 'Subm' | Find part 3 - search 'Subm_3' | Find other serials on SN - search 'SS_' )

Having left the Pelicans to their hors d'oeuvres, Rebecca Boseman entered the laughter her husband shared with the young engineers. "Gentlemen. What have we here?"

"Honey," Kevin replied, "Thiago and Thaddeus are in software, Thaddeus Tilney from the States, and Thiago Vasquez an Argentinian."

"Good evening, Thaddeus and Thiago in software," coyly. "If software is what you are talking about, I am certain that I will be... listening."

"I appreciate that Mrs. Boseman, but I'm off duty, and in the mood for a cigar." Thaddeus looked up and behind the Bosemans, "I think those doors lead outside. Would the Bosemans care to join?"

"I don't," said Rebecca.

"Don't smoke, or don't care to?" Thaddeus teased. "Besides, I didn't ask if you'd smoke. I asked if you'd join. We have to see the view."

The Bosemans would join, after a glance between them. From a few stairs below their new acquaintances, they absorbed the details of the second level as they ascended to it.

Clerestory windows flanked the upper landing, and beneath were the pocket panels that Thaddeus had assumed to be doors to an outer balcony. The painting between was the centerpiece of the Great Room -- the masterpiece of the Forenza Estate. An orange flower with petals curled skyward, roots visible through clear cutaway cross section like an ant-farm; a naive young girl with a watering can tilted toward. The first drops of dark liquid at spout resembled circuitry; bionicide on contact to nature's blue ribbon, tarnishing a youthful humanity among organic life that was now a past all but lost. The effect of this future on the Bosemans was the unsettling discomfort that they were ill equipped.

"Who is Frederic Forenza?" asked Rebecca. "Hmm," came meaningful agreement from her husband.

The engineers ahead observed differently as they padded up, together courageously and rebelliously approaching the edge of what some would warn them not to approach at all.

Stay back -- don't look down! a mother might say.

Thaddeus sought precipitous vertigo like an elixir; Thiago carried a flag to plant for life -- a flag that says, See? It is good.

"She sure is something," Thaddeus Tilney commented, at the subject demanded of the ascendee by the estate's arrangement. "So is that," said Vasquez.

The two made summit and Vasquez moved curiously to investigate the door panels; they slid into a pocket in the wall, but had no obvious mechanism. Thaddeus watched him with shared puzzlement.

The Bosemans enjoyed a turn together toward the sturdy balcony railing to survey the Great Room below.

Rebecca saw esteemed arrivals of class and distinction filling the room quickly, in most cases strangers to each other. They must be accustomed to settings like these, but like her, surely none so extravagant and inscrutable. She observed and pondered the variable media exhibition below. A museum would achieve rational sensibility by separating these pieces into type, or style, or era -- but this collection defied rigid stratification. The common thread was the theme of the art upon consideration, so achieving a feeling of cohesion in gestalt required a conscious shift of perspective.

There were Stephen and Mary Pelican visiting with a small group, each on their second napkins, or third, near a series of nested cubic frames of varied scale and orientation, ad infinitum. She mused at the eager onlookers who had formed a mutually satisfied semicircle about the vocal Melody Moods, feeding her their adulation to be recycled into a lightly elevated shared experience.

"This is amazing, baby," she spoke into her husband, sharing her awe for the place, and her love for him, in one.

"I'll buy one for you someday," he shared sarcastically, an oversimplification of overwhelming surroundings typical for him, for them.

Behind, Thiago Vasquez complained that Thaddeus Tilney had summoned staff to spoil his intriguing riddle. Thaddeus argued that the buttons on the fob were the real mystery -- not the panel doors. Only two of the unlabeled tactile switches were self-explanatory; the one he had pressed was ergonomically found, and he used it with expectation that it would call home patiently -- while the brightly colored one was clearly for emergencies. He acted on his choice, and a comfortably blinking green LED alit one side of the fob, which maintained an ambience of normal circumstance and thereby confirmed his assumption.

"But what is this third button?" Tilney was almost shouting in excitement. "It could well be what reveals our entire purpose here! It has no clues as to function - just like this damned island foray, and that crafty bastard Forenza himself!"

"And yet I'm in no hurry to see a butler slidden pocket panel nor the olfactory insult of your cigar," Thiago jested. "I'd rather deduce the mechanics of this egress, if possible, and conquer the technicalities of its design. I'm internally redesigning my next home as we speak."

"I'll know what this button does the moment staff arrives. You can have your ridiculous door, and as for your next home, dream on."

"You two are carrying on swimmingly." It was Rebecca, curious as to why there were no openings to the ocean on this side of the room, unless the windows near the ceiling had a view that might be nice to look through, should she ever find herself to be 12 feet tall.

Kevin sighed and stood from his comfortable stair-side lean, turning to the group to verbalize his focus. "How much mingling before I know where my luggage ended up, do you suppose?" He looked at his watch to find 9:00. "Forenza should arrive soon, I'd think."

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