At the far end of the expansive navigation table, Duncan noticed a silent, exquisitely detailed goat head crafted from a deep, rich wood. Its eyes, full of intent, were fixed firmly upon him. The unsettling silence of this goat head was in sharp contrast to the noisy chatter of another goat head he knew.
Feeling its unyielding gaze, Duncan could no longer brush it off. He lifted his head from his contemplation, meeting the statue’s eyes, and asked, “Why do you fixate on me so?”
“I had anticipated that you might ‘take charge’ once more, akin to your actions previously,” the goat head replied, its tone careful and deliberate. “The experience was… remarkably distinctive.”
Duncan’s brow rose in surprise as he countered, “You desire for me to assume control again?”
The goat head seemed contemplative, a hint of uncertainty in its voice as it mused, “I have a connection, an ability to feel the ‘vessel’ and grasp every element of it. However, I struggle with effectively communicating with it. The sensation is akin to a long-lost friend whose memories have faded, and so it seems to disregard me. But the last occasion, when you ventured to the aft deck and took hold of the helm… It was as if the ship spoke to me.”
Curiosity piqued, Duncan pressed on, “You discerned its ‘voice’? Can you describe it?” He remembered their rapid departure the last time, realizing he hadn’t had the opportunity to discuss this fascinating revelation with the goat head. With its mention now, Duncan wondered about the previous encounter. If the real-world goat head had had a reaction when he took charge of the ship, how had its counterpart in this dreamlike dimension responded?
The goat head paused, seemingly immersed in its memories. It took its time before responding, “It wasn’t exactly a voice, but more like immediate impressions and information flooding my mind. It felt as if it beckoned to me, urging me not to neglect the commitment I made with the ‘captain’ and to remain steadfast in my responsibilities. I was also presented with several visuals. I witnessed…”
It abruptly halted its narration. There appeared to be a certain haziness clouding its thoughts, making it difficult to convey its memories accurately. The goat head seemed momentarily lost, its train of thought derailed.
Eager to understand more, Duncan probed, “What did you witness? Was it this very ship?”
“Yes, that very ship. However, I wasn’t aboard it…”
“You were absent from the ship?”
“I found myself enveloped in an abyss of darkness, a void filled with chaos. A fleeting shadow passed—a silhouette of this vessel. It seemed ephemeral, on the brink of dissipating. Then, an indistinct voice addressed me. Although I can’t recall its exact words, something was taken from me by its bearer. Following that, the shadow took a tangible form…”
The goat head’s speech had a dreamlike, wandering quality as it meandered through its tale at a deliberate, unhurried pace. Its narrative was unpredictable, regularly deviating into seemingly unrelated tangents, devoid of clear reason, and halting abruptly. It felt as though the goat head was navigating through a particularly tumultuous dream, devoid of constraints, unveiling its odd and ever-shifting tableaus.
Following a reflective silence that lasted around fifteen seconds, the goat head resumed, “…and thus, I became intertwined with that shadow. It feels like an episode from an immensely distant era, yet this ship persists in its recollections… Is it the ship that retains these memories, or is it indeed me?”
The goat head seemed to drift into a state of bewilderment once more. Its murmurs grew fainter, almost to a whisper, challenging Duncan to discern its words. As Duncan processed the information, seated comfortably behind the navigation table, a deeper gravity settled on his visage.
Though the tale shared by the goat head was labyrinthine and rife with ambiguities, it wasn’t devoid of valuable insights. Duncan, with his keen sense of intuition, began to stitch together a mosaic of clues from the disjointed narrative.
The saga recounted by the goat head seemed to harken back to an event a century prior, when the ‘Vanished’, under the command of the genuine Captain Duncan Abnomar, had emerged from subspace.
In the tangible realm, Duncan had previously sought clarification on this event from the other goat head, yet its responses remained nebulous, suggesting a lapse in memory concerning the century-old events. However, it appeared that the remembrances of this incident were preserved within the psyche of the goat head present in this dreamlike dimension. Or, as the goat head insinuated, were these memories cherished by the ‘Vanished’ itself?
Duncan directed a contemplative gaze towards the momentarily silent goat head and surveyed the captain’s quarters.
This ethereal space symbolized the dream domain of the goat head, which could broadly be perceived as the “emanation of its deeper consciousness.”
Yet, an epiphany had emerged within Duncan.
This ship wasn’t just a figment of the goat head’s dreamscape — the ‘Vanished’ could possibly be sentient!
Over the span of a hundred years, a deep-seated “symbiotic” relationship had intertwined the destinies of the goat head and the Vanished. Their bond transcended the physical realm, delving into the spiritual. The Vanished wasn’t merely a vessel; it was a living entity. While individual components onboard might exude rudimentary life, when perceived collectively as the essence of the Vanished, its “sentience” might be vastly more intricate and cohesive than Duncan had initially comprehended.
So comprehensive was this sentience that it could actively participate in this dream in a way that defied comprehension.
With deliberate care, Duncan gently laid his hand upon the navigation table that stretched before him. His gaze bore into it with such intensity that it seemed he was attempting to see beyond its confines to gain a bird’s eye view of the entirety of the ‘Vanished.’ Engrossed in his contemplation of the mysterious revelations from the goat head, Duncan’s fingers, almost of their own accord, began to trace the uneven, rugged contours of the table’s surface.
“Is there a message you’re attempting to relay in this moment?” he silently questioned in the deepest recesses of his heart.
Yet, no response greeted him.
It was conceivable that the “consciousness” of the Vanished operated on a plane beyond Duncan’s understanding. A reply might have been offered, but in a dialect or method that evaded his perception.
He ruminated on the goat head’s account.
The creature had described a sensation of floating amidst an overwhelming darkness, enveloped by an all-consuming void and tumult. The attributes it delineated mirrored those typical of subspace. It also recounted the apparition of the Vanished looming before it, its form as insubstantial as a fleeting shadow on the cusp of evaporation… Could that have been the ship’s state when it first made contact with the goat head?
Teetering on the precipice of oblivion… This insinuated that when the Vanished first descended into subspace, it faced a grave peril, potentially to the extent that its very physicality was compromised. Perhaps the ship was nearly obliterated within the depths of subspace, leaving only a whisper in its wake, echoing the voice of Duncan Abnomar.
Subsequently, the proprietor of that voice extracted “something” from the goat head, resulting in the wraith-like Vanished regaining its substantiality. This mysterious “something” was undeniably crucial!
A flash of clarity darted across Duncan’s eyes. He recollected the initial assertions of the goat head — the Vanished beseeching it to honor its “bond” with the captain.
There existed a pact! A sacred accord between the goat head and Duncan Abnomar!
But what did this pact comprise? What mutual understanding had been forged between them a century prior amidst the enigmatic expanse of subspace?
It was inferred that Duncan Abnomar appropriated “something” from the goat head to restore the Vanished’s corporeality, and in reciprocation, the ship liberated the goat head from the volatile realm of subspace, anchoring it to a more stable existence…
These speculations likely constituted fragments of their mutual commitment.
But what succeeded this?
The original Duncan Abnomar was no longer amongst the living. His presence had evaporated, and in the vessel that once housed his mighty essence now dwelt a spirit named “Zhou Ming.”
The terrestrial goat head appeared acutely cognizant of this metamorphosis within the “captain.”
Nevertheless, it persevered in fulfilling its role as the trusted first mate.
Was this unwavering allegiance also inscribed within their covenant?
The goat head within the tangible world had avowed a lack of remembrance of its foray into subspace. Thus, did it still possess memories of the pact? Or had it lost sight of its specifics, yet some form of “mystic tether” persisted, compelling it to honor its side of the agreement?
Duncan’s thoughts surged, creating a whirlpool of contemplation and reflection. Barely pausing to process, he swiftly stood up from his chair, determination evident in his posture.
The intricate goat head that adorned the table seemed to have retreated into a daze. Its once observant eyes, which used to track Duncan’s every movement, now appeared glazed, lost in some distant trance.
The artifact seemed deeply ensconced in a hazy, half-aware state, reminiscent of one being overwhelmed by a deluge of memories and emotions, almost as though it had surpassed a certain “mental capacity.”
Though intrigued, Duncan chose not to focus on the goat head, confident that it would soon regain its faculties. His immediate concerns lay elsewhere.
Striding purposefully out of the captain’s quarters, Duncan descended the stairs that led him to the aft deck. He navigated his path directly to the helm, the very heart of the ship where the monumental steering wheel stood proudly.
Remembering the sensations and events from his previous encounter, combined with his current heightened state of readiness, Duncan displayed no reservation. He reached out, his fingers wrapping confidently around the cold, robust wheel.
As his hands made contact, it was as if the entire ship resonated with his touch, awakening from a deep slumber.
The surroundings morphed dramatically. The ethereal ship stirred into motion, a cacophony of maritime activity echoing through its structure. Ropes snapped taut, sails caught the wind and inflated, and the mechanical sounds of pulleys and winches reverberated. In the horizon, an enormous “root tunnel,” its diameter large enough to swallow the massive Vanished materialized, its gaping entrance resembling a formidable vortex.
Vibrant branches, tendrils, and shimmering mists filled Duncan’s view, outlining the trajectory the Vanished was destined to follow. Streams of radiant light, much like the last time, boarded the ship, playfully swirling around the helm.
“Saslokah, is it really you?”
A voice, tinged with a childlike innocence, resonated near Duncan. The luminous tendrils danced around him, their movements a blend of curious exploration and dreamlike wandering.
“…Saslokah won’t be returning.”
Duncan replied, his voice laden with sincerity, even though he was well aware that this manifestation of Atlantis might not perceive his words. Shifting his attention away from the glowing apparitions, he honed in on the ship’s actions.
The Vanished surged forward, effortlessly gliding through the stygian expanse of the “root tunnel.” Here and there, diverging pathways presented themselves. Yet, the ship seemed guided by an innate compass, instinctively determining its route without any directive from Duncan.
His role, it appeared, was simply to maintain his grasp on the wheel.
This relative ease allowed Duncan to channel his energies into heightened observation.
If his assumptions were accurate, if this ship represented the intertwined dreams of both the goat head and the Vanished, then hidden within this vessel would be nuances distinct from the real-world manifestation of the vessel.
