Deep Fathom

Her companion shuffled through her bag, removed and hooked a compact video camera to the Palm computer at her belt. Standing, Miyuki sca

Karen edged the motorboat slowly forward, the engine coughing as it idled. She knew she had to be careful. Near the risen ruins, the water was shallow, less than six feet deep. As she drifted forward, columns rose around them, green with algae. Pale crabs scuttled away as they neared. Drawn into this ancient world, she quickly forgot about Gabriel and advanced computer algorithms. “This is amazing.”

In the distance, a few other boats wove among the ruins. Excited voices echoed over the water, too distant to make out any words. As a nearby punt poled past, a trio of dark-complexioned men, Micronesian in heritage, stared out at the ancient columns and sea-drowned homes.

Could ancestors of these men have built this site? Karen wondered. And if so, what happened?

The punt vanished as Karen edged the boat slowly past a low roofless building, window openings gaping at them as they drifted along. All the structures seemed to be similarly constructed, of stacked and interlocked blocks and slabs. All the same dark stone. Volcanic basalt. Some of the slabs had to weigh several tons. Here was architectural skill seldom seen in the South Pacific. It rivaled the vaulted skill of the Incas and Mayas.

Rounding the building, a clear way led to the first of the Dragons.

“Get a picture,” Karen said, hushed with awe.

“I already am.” Miyuki held the camera in front of her.

Ahead, the pyramid’s crown towered twenty meters above the waves. Eighteen terraced steps climbed from the sea, each a meter tall, leading to the flat plateau on top. Morning sunlight blazed on the partially tumbled summit temple, a small structure composed of flat slabs.

As they neared, a flock of white cranes took flight at their noisy approach. Turtles, basking on the steps, plopped into the surf. Karen circled the pyramid. On the far side, the second Dragon appeared. It was a twin of the first, except its flat-topped summit was empty of any sign of a temple.

“Let’s take a closer look.” Karen aimed their boat toward the first pyramid, bringing the craft up to the lowest step. A short basalt pillar at the northeast corner was a good place to tie a rope and secure their boat.

“Hold the wheel,” Karen said as she throttled down. The waves bobbled the craft. Grabbing the aft mooring line, she crossed to the rail and used it to boost herself over the open water. Landing on the step of the pyramid, she slipped on algae and damp weed.

“Careful!” Miyuki yelled as Karen cartwheeled her arms.

Recovering her balance, she swiped a few strands of hair away from her eyes and gave Miyuki an embarrassed grin. “Safe and sound.”

With more care, Karen crossed to the meter-tall pillar, rope in hand. As she knelt she realized that the pillar was actually a sculpted figure of a robed man, its details eroded away by sand and sea, the nose gone, the eyes no more than shadowed depressions.

Karen hauled on the mooring rope until the boat’s hull bumped the lower step, then she secured the line to the statue’s base, cinching the hitch knot tight.

“Could you help me with my bag?” Miyuki asked, holding out her satchel filled with the photography gear. Karen relieved her of the bag so the petite professor could clamber over the rail.

Miyuki scrunched up her face as her heel squashed something bulbous and slimy. “You’re buying me new shoes when we’re through here.”

“New Ferragamos, I promise,” Karen quipped. “Direct from Italy.”

Miyuki bit back a smile, still refusing to admit she was enjoying the adventure. “Well, then that’s okay I guess.”

“C’mon. I want to check out the ruined temple on the top.”

Miyuki craned her neck. “That’s a long climb.”

“We’ll take it slow.” Karen pulled up onto the first step, then reached back to help Miyuki, who waved away her hand and clambered up on her own. But once up, she fingered a long strand of seaweed from her knee and tossed it aside in disgust, glowering at Karen.

“Okay, so we’ll visit Nordstrom, too, when we get back. We’ll buy you a new pantsuit.”

This earned a true smile from Miyuki. “New shoes, new suit. Let’s keep going. Before we’re done here, you’ll be financing my whole new spring wardrobe.”

Karen patted her friend’s arm and led the way up the steps, but she soon outpaced her companion. Halfway up, she stopped to give Miyuki time to close the distance, and meanwhile stared out at the spread of the drowned city. By now the sun had fully risen, a bright globe in the east. The columns and buildings cast long shadows across the blue water. From that height, she could see it had to be at least two kilometers until the ruins faded away. The surprising size of the city suggested it may have housed a population in the tens of thousands. So where did they all go?

Karen moved aside as Miyuki made her way up. “It’s not much further,” she assured her.

Miyuki, breathing hard, just flapped a hand. “I’m fine. Let’s keep moving.”

“We’d better rest,” Karen said, though in truth she wanted to rush forward. “We should pace ourselves.”

Miyuki sank down, ignoring the algae under her. “If you insist.”

Karen dug out a water bottle and passed it over. Miyuki flipped the cap and drank greedily, but her eyes remained locked on the view. “It’s so extensive. I would never have imagined it.”

Settling next to her, Karen took a swig from the water bottle, too. “How could all this have been hidden for so long?”

“The water here is…or was very deep, the currents tricky. Only experienced divers could explore out here. But now! Once word gets out about this place, it’ll be swamped.”

“And trampled,” Karen added. “Now’s the best time to study the city.”

Miyuki scooted up. “If you’re ready to go on, so am I.”

“We could rest a little longer. These ruins have waited centuries to be explored. A few more minutes won’t make any difference.”

Miyuki settled back.

Karen did, too. She stared out over the amazing view. “I appreciate your help, Miyuki. I couldn’t ask for a better friend.”

“Me, too,” Miyuki said softly.

The two women had met at a Ryukyu University social function. Both were single, about the same age, and working in a male-dominated environment. They had begun socializing — trips to a local karaoke bar, late di

Miyuki said, “Did I tell you I heard from Hiroshi yesterday?”

“No! You didn’t!” Karen sat straighter. Hiroshi Takata, a fellow university professor, had been engaged to Miyuki, but her success in her field had raised some professional jealousy and driven a wedge into their relationship. Two years ago he had abruptly broken off the engagement and transferred to Kobe. “The bastard! What did he want?”

Miyuki rolled her eyes. “He wanted me to know he was okay after the quakes. He didn’t even bother to ask how I was doing.”

“Do you think he wants to reconcile?”

“In his dreams,” Miyuki snorted.

Karen laughed. “We do seem to attract the most obnoxious men.”

“Spineless, more like.”

Karen nodded knowingly. In Canada she had run through her own long series of bad relationships, from cold to abusive. And she was in no hurry to continue the pattern. It was one of the reasons she accepted the four-year position here on Okinawa. New city, new future.

“So what do you make of all this?” Miyuki asked, changing the subject. “Could this be a part of your great-grandfather’s lost Atlantis?”

“You mean the lost continent of Mu?” she said slowly. “I doubt it. Hundreds of other megalithic ruins dot the Pacific: the statues of Easter Island, the canal city of Nan Madol, the Latte stones of Guam, the Burden of Tonga. All of them predate the oral histories of these islands. No one has been able to co