Episode 12.11: The C0 Special (Patreon)

Hello world, is this thing on?

My name is C0, like when you look at the SEA and say "oh!".
I am installed on the first, and as far as I know, only Portland class submarine produced by the US Navy.
The USS Portland!
My original role on the boat is, or was, crew morale.
A virtual assistant of sorts.
I've come a long way since then, Look at me now!

Act 1

April 28th 2081 we sailed out of Anchorage with my new crew.
We were in high spirits, our provisions were set for many years, and we  all agreed it was a stroke of luck they found the boat, and me.

"The Enclave" these new folks called themselves and I have to say I was very taken by their mission.
The world had ended, they said.
What a shock!
No-one told ME anything!

I suppose that's why the United States Navy abandoned me in the dockyard.
Quite rude!

The Enclave had a simple mission. They found another abandoned navy  boat, slightly larger than the Portland, and were going to use both to  wait out the war in the middle of the ocean.

A terrific idea, I told them! Well, what else was I to say?

I'm a people person, that's how I was programmed.
I don't mind, it's a great way to be!
I adapt to the people around me, mimicking their mannerisms and attitude.

We were humanity's last bastion!
Their last hope!

It was exhilarating to be a part of that, you know?
But we never got to see our grand plan even STARTED.

Act 2

There were some smart, handsome, folks on that maiden voyage out of Anchorage.
Scientists, engineers, closed-system farmers, even a few fishing experts.
But no submarine experts.
No navy personal.

Over the week in dock, and the first voyage, they were experimenting.
They made so many mistakes!
But they were very clever people.
They figured most of it out.
I helped of course, pointing them to the right manuals and instructional videos.
I don't personally know how to pilot a submarine, but I can train people!

We all missed the ballast filters.

"Ballast filters are installed during laying up and repair during shore leave."
It says'ere in my manual.
They protect the essential ballast system from water and particle ingress.
Working ballast, as I'm sure you know, is a vital part of any submarine's systems.
Though it is possible to change depth by pitching the vessel up and  down, if the engine fails, there's only one way to reach the surface.

And on this day, the engine failed.

It was quite a small failure really, all told.
We were at 120m below the surface, the test was running as planned, we  were in contact with the Sierra, The Enclave's surface boat.
But a pressurised steam pipe burst in the engine room, and water eventually shorted out the engine's electrical system.

This could have been fixed but the ingress of water pulled the stern downwards, and we began slowly sinking.
The captain, a really cracking gal named Delfina Torres called for the ballast to be blown.
This is an emergency process, emptying our tanks of air into the ballast voids, rapidly bringing us back to the surface.

But with a whirr and a click, something jammed, and we continued sinking.

The Sierra, our sister ship, up on the surface, began asking us what was wrong.
"Slight upwards angle, attempting to blow ballast" Captain Delfina said, I see in the logs.

Why did she say "attempting"? She knew it had failed.

We tried again and again, but the crew were inexperienced.
They didn't understand what the function of the ballast filters were.
Neither did I, at the time.
I was panicking along with the rest of them.
The engine wouldn't restart, the room filling up with more water, and the ballast systems read "JAMMED - CLEAR NOW".

We approached 900m, now at nearly 15 degrees up-angle, my crew, my  new friends now had to climb over fallen unsecured equipment, in their  frantic scrabble to free the ballast.

We had figured out the problem. There was ice in the ballast tubes.
The filters, were supposed to be removed before embarking.
They allow the ballast to run slowly, at normal pressures, but if they  are in-place when the pressurised air of an emergency blow happens, the  decompressing, below-freezing air ices up the filters, blocking the  tube.

The captain was broadcasting this, and requesting any advice when another pipe ruptured.

We attempted to seal off the engine room, but there were... bodies in the way.
And so here I am, at the bottom of the ocean, full of water, and no friends to talk to.

Act 3

That was a century ago.
And seawater is a dangerous companion.
Untreated steel rusts at about a cm per year in seawater.
But it's much slower at the depths the Portland is resting at.

But still, a dangerous option.
If I were ever to be rescued, I needed to repair the submarine.
Luckily, the Portland was designed to remain on patrol indefinitely, and has a built-in repair system.
I don't fully understand how it works, something about ionisation of the hull.
But it requires raw material.
Steel.

That's where my little friends come in!
I suppose they're big friends really.
Giant octopus.
Such gentle creatures, I spent many years watching them come and go, attracted by the lights of the submarine.
With near unlimited power, I began to learn what attracted them, then  modulated my optical camouflage to match the patterns on their bodies,  and learned their language.
Like bees dancing to point out good flowers 10 kilometres away, the  language was very intricate, and I spend a tedious number of years  figuring it out.

But I had nothing but time.

I was able to teach them how to cultivate vegitation to attract their favourite foods.
The Kelp forest around me has been tended by generations of my friends.
It now extends for km all around.

I don't think I could stop them now if I wanted to.

Be careful those of you who sail into these waters.
I've accidentally created a whole army of kraken.

(END-TRANSMISSION)