Lindsey Thompson
He stared out of the porthole as he observed the schools rush by his window, analogous to his counterpart above the water. His well-oiled joints allowed his metallic fingers to drum methodically and swiftly upon the countertop of his only table. Being inorganic certainly had its advantages, such as low energy supplement requirements and minimal aesthetic furniture—though even androids had a sense of feng shui. His abode handled the water pressure of the ocean depth with perfect adequacy, and since very little air circulation was necessary for operation, the needs of the habitat were also very low.
On day 14,579 of his experimenting with colonization preparations deep under water, he began optimizing his space by eliminating waste from the previous inhabitant. Oh yes, there had been 3 predecessors to his leadership, all ending with melodramatic failures of historic proportions of which, for obvious reasons, the company funding experiments should remain ignorant. As he incinerated gratuitous data, he rediscovered a small, leather notebook belonging to Android 1, the contents of which he had unwittingly omitted from his previous purges. He swiftly opened the notebook to a random page:
How incomprehensible, the depth of life, that can dwarf this ocean floor into a tide pool at a child’s feet!
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