She moved her right hand and closed her fingers on an invisible control knob. A second later the sediment stirred up a bit, and the camera began to move closer to the gaping wound on the ship’s hull.
Paul glanced at one of the displays on the wall. In a visual depiction reminiscent of a First Person Shooter video game, he saw what Gamay saw in her visor: a control panel and various gauges measuring depth, pressure, temperature, and both horizontal and vertical orientat
ion.
He also saw a second screen that displayed a view from several feet behind the vessel she was piloting. Again it looked like a video game on the screen, as a small, almost human-shaped robotic figure moved forward toward the shattered hull plating.
“Detaching umbilical,” Gamay said.
Much smaller than a standard ROV, and shaped more like a person than an undersea vessel, the figure was known by the incredibly awkward name Robotic Advanced Person-shaped Underwater Zero-connection Explorer. Because the acronym shortened to RAPUNZE, the test team had taken to calling the little figure Rapunzel. And this moment, when it disconnected from all surface connectivity, was considered Rapunzel “letting down her hair.”
Under normal circumstances, Rapunzel could release the mile-long umbilical cord that kept her connected to the Matador and operate on her own in environments where cords, wires, and anything else trailing could be a hazard. Powered by batteries that would last three hours untethered, she was propelled by an impeller located in what would have been her belly. Fully gimballed, it could be rotated three hundred sixty degrees in any direction, allowing her to move up, down, sideways, backward, or any combination in between.
Because she was human shaped, she could bend and move into places a normal ROV could not go. She could even shrink, retracting her arms and legs so that she took up no more space than a beach ball with a light and video camera on top.
By using the virtual reality setup and force-feedback boots and gloves, the designers made it possible to operate Rapunzel as if a human were down there doing the work herself. It was expected this would be a huge boon to the salvage world, keeping divers out of dangerous wrecks and allowing exploration into wrecks long considered too dangerous or too deep to get at.
Exploring the Sheffield was to be Rapunzel’s coming-out party, but something was wrong. A red warning light flashed repeatedly on one of the keyboards and also in the virtual cockpit. The umbilical would not disconnect.
“Let me try this again,” Gamay said, resetting the sequence.
Paul stepped in quietly. “Don’t mean to interrupt,” he said, “but I’m afraid Rapunzel has to come back home for dinner.”
“Is that my wonderful husband out there?” Gamay said, still fiddling with imaginary controls.
“It is. We have a storm brewing up,” Paul explained, his northeastern accent turning the word storm into something that sounded more like “stahm.” “We need to batten down the ship and head north before it turns into a full-blown gale.”
Gamay’s shoulders slumped a bit. It didn’t matter anyway, the umbilical would not release, and they couldn’t send Rapunzel inside the ship with the cords still attached. She pressed some other switches. An icon labeled “Auto Return” popped up on screen, and Gamay’s virtual hand reached out and touched it.
Rapunzel began to pull away from the Sheffield and then ascend through the depths. The LEDs on Gamay’s gloves and boots went dark. She took off her visor and blinked at Paul. She stepped toward him and almost lost her balance.
Paul caught her. “You all right?”
“It’s a little disorienting to come out,” she said. She blinked a few more times as if trying to refocus on the real world, then smiled at him.
He smiled back, still wondering how he’d been lucky enough to find someone so pretty and perfect for him.
“How was it?” he asked.
“Just like being down there,” she said. “Except I’m not wet and cold, and I can go have lunch with you while Rapunzel makes the fifteen-minute journey back up from the bottom.”
She reached over and kissed him.
“Umm-hmm,” one of the Englishman coughed.
“Sorry,” she said, turning back to them. “I’d say Rapunzel is going to be a huge plus for us. We’ll get the bugs worked out while the storm hits and then drop her down and try it again.”
“Actually,” Paul said, “we won’t. At least, not until October.”
“Weather getting too rough for you, old boy?” the Englishman asked. “When I was a kid, we’d go through this kind of chop in a motor launch.”
Paul had no doubt the man was telling the truth — he was a twenty-five-year vet of the RN before he’d retired a decade ago. He’d been on the Sheffield when it had taken that lethal hit.
“I guess it is,” Paul said, going with the thought. “We’re heading north. Once we’re through the storm, a helicopter will be coming in to pick you guys up. I guess it’s back to England from there. I’ll be sure they have tea on board.”
“Ha,” the bearded man said. “Very good of you.”
The two Englishmen stood. “I guess we saw what we came to see. Would love an invite when you come back.”