Message in a Bottle

In an age of information, the restriction of all that free-floating knowledge is a tall order. Want to browse the galaxy’s reaches? Google it. Want to discover the roots to the religious scriptures you hear about in services? Google them. Want to learn how to play guitar, make a pipe bomb, write computer code, or watch the countdown to the New Year in New York City live? All of that’s accessible over the World Wide Web. Even older forms of information - such as manuscripts, scrolls, and books – have had someone, somewhere, sometime transcribe that information and place it on a silver platter off in cyberspace.

And maybe that’s what bothered me the most; this manuscript – or what was left of it - couldn’t be found anywhere on the internet. On top of that, the manuscript was stuck in a bottle sealed by a deteriorating cork. It was something right out of a romantic movie. What had that old woman at the bazaar said? Something about a Chunosuke Matsuyama? The name certainly didn’t sound familiar.

A clothe-drenching splash from the chilled waves interrupted my thoughts.

“Sorry about that, August!” The Shallow Distance’s captain called out. “The waves are getting a little feisty out!”

“No worries, captain,” I called back out. “Any idea how much longer we’ll be until we hit France’s port?”

“Shouldn’t be more than a few hours, lad!” Captain Moss called back. He went to move back through the door to resume piloting the ship, but stopped at the doorway, as if he almost forgot to feed the animals before he left home for the day’s work. “I’ll be fixin’ some of this flounder I bought a little while back before we set sail. Ye more than welcome to join, laddy!”

“Alright, captain. I’ll be there in a bit. Just going to let the wind dry my clothes first.”

Captain Moss walked back to his position at the wheel, and the floorboards creaked in response, like a disgruntled child having to do more chores than his mother had originally told him to do. The captain was middle-aged, having “sailed the seven seas since childbirth” as he had announced with gusto. A little bit of an exaggeration, if anything.

“Moss, Joseph, Captain. Age 42, sailor since age 19. Captain of The Shallow Distance since age 30. The previous ship captain died in a freakish fishing machinery accident the same day captain Moss was rescued from his shipwrecked island; and might I add, captain Moss was the only survivor. He claimed the rest of his crew died of food shortage, and that he gave them a proper burial at sea. The pictures in this official report show him pretty healthy looking – I doubt they truly had a food shortage. More like a gun shortage, and the lucky sailor with the gun got greedy,” remarked a mechanical voice.

“Hey, pipe down some, will ya, Ares?” I put my wireless earpiece into my ear. “I thought I had told you not to talk unless I had my earpiece in. Don’t want to scare the locals.”

“Sorry, sir. I was monitoring the airwaves for audio, and noticed an increase in the pulsations of your heartbeat when captain Moss exited the cabin to talk to you. I looked up the name and a quick summary of his history for your safety. Information is important, as you have taught me,” Ares stated plainly.

What would I do without Ares? I thought. “Thanks for the lookout.” I stared back out into rolling waves.

“My pleasure, sir.” The dark red light flashing on the phone turned a soft, steady orange. Ares had gone back into standby.

A pack of seagulls flew overhead, squawking back and forth amongst one another. The water was a dark blue hue, with waves breaking across the bow. The Mediterranean Sea was bigger than I would’ve imagined. It’s 970,000 square kilometers across, so I guess it’s not all that surprising I see nothing but the sea. But, at least I wasn’t alone in this vast open space. I had Ares. Ares, the Greek god of war, was the name I had given the self-aware, independent, artificial intelligence I kept on my phone. Years of research and work was put into his creation, but all it took was research and dedication. He’s my partner, and with him, any metaphorical door that’s electronically locked, I can open. Information can unlock any door, and control of that information is a war that’s been in place since the beginning of time.

I glanced back down at the bottle, squeezing its neck tightly in my fist. Ares’ search results had yielded only a limited amount of information. Chunosuke Matsuyama was a Japanese sailor who was lost at sea, shipwrecked somewhere on a South Pacific Island. Having lost hope and the rest of his 43 man crew, Matsuyama scribbled down a letter on some coconut wood and tossed the bottle into the ocean, telling of their misfortune. However, according to the old hag in the Old Jerusalem bazaar, there was something else in that bottle; something else that Matsuyama and his crew found that drove them insane – the real reason they perished.

I closed my eyes and breathed in the salt water scent of the waves. The summer sun was at its peak in the sky, but the blasting waves kept the chance of heat stroke down to a minimum. I recounted my encounter in the bazaar, trying to remember some details that could give me more answers than questions.

The loud, foreign voices all ran through my head, fresh from yesterday’s encounters. The bazaar was a beautiful scene, with vendors pushing their colored blankets and old family relics in my path in an attempt to show me how much more they had to offer than their neighbors. The rumble of adjacent customers as they flipped through clothes and foreign artifacts accompanied me as I had weaved my way between the crowds. I wasn’t looking for anything in particular, just looking for anything unique or antique that I could expand my knowledge with. It was then that I came across an old woman sitting cross-legged on a hand-woven multi-colored blanket. She was in a dimly-lit portion of the back alleys connecting the shops of the bazaar with one another.

I wasn't planning on sticking around the dark alleys, but the woman had some things on her blanket that I hadn’t seen elsewhere. Like a moth to the light, I was drawn in. She saw my American clothes and knew I must’ve come here alone for more than a religious pilgrimage.

“What brings you to these corners, child?” I noticed the light British accent. What would she be doing this far from home selling goods?

“I’m here on a business trip,” I replied watchfully. “I could ask you the same thing, ma’am.”

“I’m in search of answers. My life effort has been dedicated to it” She didn’t seem to push me for information, but instead went straight to her point. “Come closer, child, if you seek the truth.”

The truth? I do want answers. I crave information. I crept closer, kneeling down on one knee to meet her eye-to-eye. She was short, even for an old woman.

“What do you mean, the truth?”

The old lady allowed herself a short jovial chuckle. “The answers. The answers to all of the important questions. Religions, secrets, beginnings, endings, meanings – I have them all right here –“she pulled out a bottle from her pack sitting against the wall “- in this bottle, in this manuscript.”

She handed me the bottle. The rolled manuscript inside was old, very old. The cover still retained its brown coloration, but it was fading. The only legible thing scrawled in the center of the cover was a single word. “Life.”

“I don’t understand – what is this? Why are you giving this to me?” I don’t –“

“Let me tell you a story, child,” she interrupted. “Listen carefully.”

She took a deep breath, the kind of deep breath you take before you expel your biggest secret; a deep breath of regret and ease of mind, of preparation and recollection. She began to speak steadily, telling me the tale of Chunosuke Matsuyama and his crew’s passing - of things I already knew. But, she continued:

“While it is true Matsuyama perished and tossed the bottle into the ocean with the message of he and his crew’s demise, Matsuyama also found this manuscript buried deep within the island’s hiding forestry. This manuscript held the truth about all things kept hidden to humans since the time of Adam and Eve. Do you really want to know what happened in the Garden of Eden? Do you want to really know what happened to the apostles? Or perhaps that there were actually nearly twenty of them? Do you want to really know what happened to JFK the day your country’s heart stopped? Do you really want to know what will be this planet’s fate in the future that is far closer than anyone anticipates? Those sorts of answers are here. In this book. Everything you need to know, young Mr. Google Executive. All of the information you want so badly - Information the great World Wide Web cannot tell you.”

She glared at me intensely. I was taken aback, trying to digest everything. How did she know who I was? How does she know my thirst? A chill shook its way throughout my body.

“I-I-Who are you?”

“Here, help me pick up my things, August. I’m too old to do this work.”

Dazed, I quickly helped her pick up her merchandise and put them into her pack. She strapped it on her back, picked up her walking cane, and turned to walk down the dark alleyways out of existence.

“Well, my time here is through. Maybe we’ll meet again sometime. Good day, August. Thank you for stopping by, child.”

“Wait! You never answered my question. Who are you? How do you know me? What do I do with this bottle?”

She turned her face partially, only revealing a single eye in my direction. “If you want to know the answers the universe hides, bring the manuscript in the bottle to London, the location of the biggest library on Earth. Ask for Martha, she’s an old friend. But beware, child. Matsuyama and his crew couldn’t handle the truths, and they killed themselves over knowing what they didn’t need to know – over what they weren’t ready to know. If you want to expand your mind more than you ever thought possible, do so at your own risk. But heed my words: some doors are locked for a reason.”

With that, she walked off into the shadows. I never learned her name.

I opened my eyes, and took a deep breath. I was on my way to France from Old Jerusalem to take the Eurostar to London, where I would find Martha and the library. I put the bottle back into my backpack, and walked off to see the captain for flounder.

Still, I hadn’t decided whether or not I’d open the manuscript when I got to the library, much less what I would find.

II

“So, what did you say you were headin’ to France for again, lad?” Captain Moss stuffed a great big bite of flounder into his mouth as he posed the question, crumbs of his meal falling out of his yapper onto his graying beard.

“I’m heading to London, England. There’s a high-speed train in France called the Eurostar that takes me to London in about two hours. I’m going to the library there to deliver this...uh…artifact, I guess”

“Oh, ye don’t say? Is it valuable?” There was a sparkle in his eye.

“I’m not sure. Could be. It seems to be something of value, if I’ve been tasked to deliver it anyways.” I hoped Ares was listening in on our conversation.

“So, you don’t know then, eh? What does ye family think about it?”

“I haven’t talked to my family in quite some time.” I paused for a second, taking a thoughtful bite of my food. “They don’t even know where I am, actually. But, yeah, I’m not even sure where this thing came from. It was given to me by an old lady at the bazaar, telling me to deliver it to the London library.”

“Ay, lad. Let me get ye some more flounder.” Captain Moss got up and went out the door to the left to grab some more grub. I took the opportunity to talk to Ares.

“Say, Ares, what do you make of the captain?”

“He seems to be fairly interested in your business. Sailors, according to statistic logs, show favoritism in theft on small scales. According to USA Today archives, there was a headline story a few years back in 2018 about two men who boarded a private vessel en route to New York from a port off Canada. The sea captain saw the opportunity to rob the two men of their valuables, dumping their bodies into the Atlantic. Of course, a week or two went by and people noticed their absence. Authorities came to find they were in Canada on a gold mining expedition and were murdered for their findings. Ironically, the gold was fool’s gold, as the two men never struck it rich and decided to bring back souvenirs of their time anyways. Moral of the story: captains may not be morally sane.”

“Thanks, Ares. Glad you mentioned this before we boarded this stranger’s boat.”

“You never asked, sir,” said Ares with a tint of humor. Ares understood I had one life, and one life only, but he still didn’t quite fully grasp the idea of human life. He could just back himself up over wifi. I couldn’t exactly do that.

As if on cue, the captain walked back into the room, holding a plate of more freshly-cooked flounder.

“We’ll be docking within the hour, August.” He placed the plate in the center of our makeshift tables of boxes. “If you’d like, I could show ye around the ship. Who knows, maybe one day ye be shipwrecked and have to make use of the resources salvageable from ye boat too.” He let loose a bellowing sailor’s laugh.

“Sure, captain. Might as well. Not much else to do before we dock anyways.”

“Excellent! Finish up that flounder and meet me out on the bow. I’ll adjust the course of The Shallow Distance and set it to auto-pilot. Not exactly legal, but we won’t be long. I’ll just show ye the pride and joy of The Shallow Distance: the engine room!” Captain Moss grabbed his plate and moved through the rear door.

That’s not the way to the kitchen or the bow.

“Ares, hey. Can you download a map of this ship? Something’s not right.”

“I’ll do my best. The Shallow Distance has been off public records for some time. Let me search the ship for something...” There was a momentary pause as Ares hijacked the locked wifi on board, searching its databanks for an answer. “The most recent layout of the ship is onboard, but it dates back to the making of the ship – over 50 years ago. Just judging by this room and the bow of the ship, I’d say to take this map with a grain of salt. A good bit has changed. Still, sir, I’d recommend caution. I understand your desire for information because of the loss of your forefathers, but don’t be too reckless.”

Ares hit a nerve. I paused for a brief moment to think of my father, and my father’s father. If only I had known.

“Alight, Ares, I’ll be careful. I want you to put a copy of yourself into the ship’s system. Lie low, and don’t make too much noise. I want you in there just in case I need you to work some magic throughout the ship.”

“Certainly, sir. Just know that I am opposed to this. It is illegal to commandeer a vessel. We’re committing mutiny.”

“Noted, Ares. But if anything we’re just evening the battleground. This guy doesn’t seem to play by the rules, either.”

Ares began uploading a copy of himself to The Shallow Distance’s systems. By overloading the ship’s CPU, the brain of the computer, with too many commands – maintenance checks, navigation resets, communication relay inspections – he was able to slip pass without a noise. He rode the hot electric impulses connecting the nodes of the computer to one another. The wires weaved in and out, alluring to something of a spider’s web, and upon finding the CPU’s core, Ares sent the brain a series of 1s and 0s, easily convincing the computer to do a ship-wide reset of the system for emergency intruder measures. When the ship came back online, the CPU thought it had prevented an infiltration successfully. What it didn’t know was that the infiltration had already succeeded, and that false sense of security was implanted by the intruder. You keep the truth from something, or someone, and you give yourself the power to manipulate the doors that open and close to that being. A denial of life – but a necessary one in this case.

“Alright, sir. I’ve got full control over the ship. I’ll be your guardian angel. Better head out to see the ol’ captain before he gets suspicious.” Ares’ voice sounded a bit distant as he relayed the notice back to me wirelessly from the ship’s speaker system to my earpiece’s frequency.

“Appreciate it, Ares. Have fun in there.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice, sir.” Ares let a mechanical snicker out - slightly unsettling. “I’ve already dug up some interesting history in some of the encrypted captain’s logs. We’ll read through them together later over some coffee.”

With that, I hefted my pack onto one shoulder and walked out to the bow, ready to extend my right hand in peace while holding the dagger behind my back in my left. Ares was my dagger, and superior information was the honed blade.

“There ye are, lad!” Captain Moss extended his hands into the air above his head. “Ye ready to take a walk around my pride and joy?”

“Sure, captain. You wanted to show me the engine room?”

“Ye got it, August. Come, follow me. We don’t have much time until we hit land.” He sounded innocent enough. Maybe I was looking too much into him.

The two of us began walking down the starboard side of the ship, passing by portholes, suspended lifeboats, and open doors leading to dimly-lit hallways. It was a fairly large fishing ship, especially for just one person to operate. Perhaps he had help at his stops in the many ports he traveled to and from. One thing didn’t quite sit right, however. If this was a fishing boat, where were the fishing nets? There were cranes hanging over the boat, staring into the sea below, but no nets.

“Say, captain, what sort of ship is this, anyways? I noticed the fishing cranes, but no nets.” I tried to sound as oblivious as I could.

“Well, this used to be a fishing boat, lad. However, when the previous captain passed away and possession of the boat passed into my hands, I decided to repurpose it. It’s used for commercial purposes now. I run a trade business back and forth between a few countries on the Mediterranean’s coast. The sea is the easiest way to access a country without much trouble.

So that’s why Ares couldn’t find an up-to-date layout. The ship was refitted.

We continued walking along the creaking tin floors. We walked passed some crates, with destination labels written across them. Israel, Greece, Croatia, and France were all labels that were visible, with more crates behind those. He certainly had a wide audience. What kind of product could possibly be sought out by all these different places? I hadn’t come across any sort of food storage containers, so that could be ruled out.

“What sort of trade do you run?”

“Medicine, of the sort. It’s tough to find funds, so I take whatever valuable I can find and sell it on the market. You can sell anything so long as you have the right customers.”

We approached the engine room, ceasing our developing conversation.

“Here we are, lad. Come, come.” He stepped energetically into the room, ushering me to follow behind.

The room was big, at least in comparison to the rest of the ship. A good piece of the hull must’ve been taken up by this room. The engines themselves were bulky and large, with cogs turning and mechanical arms pushing and pulling wheels in different directions.

“Here, lad. Come see this.”

I put my pack down in the corner of the room, making sure the reflection of the bottle that stuck out of it showed me the room when my back was turned.

I approached the railing separating the floor from the engine, and realized there was a gap between the railing and the engine itself. Below that gap was more machinery, churning and wheezing in order to keep the ship propelling forward. It was almost as if there was gunk caught in the machinery that made it work in overtime. Something definitely isn’t right.

“Let me go flip the light switch to get some light in here, then I’ll show ye all there is to the engine.” He turned and walked away from the railing, letting the only illumination in the room from the red flashing light in the corner be my company.

After a moment, his voice returned to my ears.

“Turns out we won’t need the lights after all, lad. I’m afraid our time together is up. Ye have reached ye destination.” There was a sound of satisfaction in his voice.

“Oh, that’s a shame,” I said back. I cocked my head to the right slightly to peer into the reflection casted by the bottle poking out of my pack.

The captain was reaching for something in his overcoat. A gun.

“Is that how you killed your shipmates and the previous captain of this ship? With a gunshot to their backs?”

The captain laughed, twisted. “Well, since ye seem to know things others don’t, yes. Yes, that is how. Lure people in with innocence and kindness, and when they aren’t looking, ye stab them in the back. I saw value in this ship when I was rescued from my shipwrecked island. I tried to convince the captain in the potential I saw, but he wanted to play by the rules. So, I killed him, and the rest of my crew, in their sleep. It was easy.”

“So, you really don’t run an honest medicine trade then, do you?” I knew Ares had to be listening in on this, and was already working on a solution. I just had to buy time.

“Of course not, lad. There’s no profit in honest work. I make drug runs back and forth. It’s easier to smuggle the drugs into the country by ship. And, when I saw your bottled manuscript and heard you talk of its possible value, I knew I could sell that on the black market. Everything can be sold, if you find the right customer. Every person has their price.”

He cocked his gun. I just stood there, believing Ares would pull through.

“I’m sorry it had to end like this, lad. I liked your company. Unfortunately, you have something I want. I’ll have to toss you into the engine like I did the previous captain, and let the machinery do the rest. That way, if anyone ever discovers something they shouldn’t, I can just say it was a machinery accident, just like what happened to the previous captain. Goodbye, August. Say hi to the old captain for me.”

I closed my eyes. Ares better have a solution. I wouldn’t die like this. I wouldn’t become a victim to ignorance like my forefathers were. My eyes shot open, and I yelled out to Ares.

“Ares! Do something!”

At that moment, the boat rocked, and the engine came to an abrupt stop. The force of the deceleration knocked both the captain and I off our feet, causing the captain’s finger to slip and let a bullet ricochet off the ground and into the engine.

“What the hell?! What was that?” cried the captain in confusion.

“Sorry for the delay, sir.”The ship’s intercom filled the room with Ares’ voice. “I thought I’d let him ramble on for a bit to squeeze as much out of him as we could, then swoop in for the dramatic save.”

I scrambled to my feet, grabbing my pack against the wall.

“You’re my shining hero, Ares. Now do something about this captain will ya? We’re about to disembark, and I don’t want to miss my train to London.”

“Absolutely, sir. If you don’t mind, brace yourself against the wall and feel your way to the exit on your left.”

The captain began clambering to his feet, eyes locked on the gun that had fallen a few steps from him. As he did, I braced myself against the wall.

“You! You think you can get away and tell people of what I’ve done?!” The captain snatched the gun off the ground, pointing it at me with rage.

I shrugged my shoulders. “People shouldn’t be left in the dark. Selective information holds too much power. People should know the truth, especially the families of those you murdered out of pure greed.”

“That won’t happen, lad. Some things aren’t meant to be known.”

The ship shuddered again, this time with more force than before. I struggled to stay on my legs as Ares rapidly accelerated the ship and shut off the only light in the room. I didn’t see it, but heard the captain scream as he flew across the floor, colliding with a loud clang against the metal railing.

“You could’ve prevented your death, had you not gotten cocky and paid closer attention to your own ship.” I found the exit door, and cracked it just enough for me to slip through. “And because I sympathize with your ignorance,” I called into the dark room, “I’ll let you in on one last truth for free. Your days as ship captain are over. Say hi to your old captain for me.”

I slammed the metal door shut, running towards the bow to see the shoreline in plain view. Some things aren’t meant to be known? That’s non-sense. Everything should be readily available. If that were the case, my family may still be alive. But at the same time, did this corrupted sailor have a point? Was that the purpose of sanctioned knowledge? Surrendering an informed choice for the sake of a fabricated order? To keep people protected, in a way? My thoughts were interrupted by the loudspeakers across the ship.

“Excellent one-liner, sir. Now, if you’d kindly standby for docking, I’ll have us docked in under the next five minutes. You wouldn’t believe how helpful this ship’s computer training simulator has been. Oh, and I’ve locked the engine room door shut so captain Moss can have some one-on-one time with the old deceased captain. When we dock, I’ll overheat the engines, causing them to explode in a fiery blaze. It’ll be a good story for the news. Perhaps we could leave an anonymous tip about the information the kind captain leaked?”

“Yeah, we’ll be sure to do that.” Because, people deserved to know, right? Who am I to choose what someone should, and shouldn’t know?

I stood at the foot of the bow, feeling the wind whip me across the face like a disappointed parent. Mother Nature seemed to disagree with my beliefs, and I can’t say I argued with her doubts. I was having some of my own too.

The answers had to lie in London, in this manuscript. I was told I’d go mad by knowing everything I shouldn’t, but I already felt myself losing a grip on the reality that I chose to believe.