"What's up above Daddy?" Kevin asked softly.

His father followed the boy's pointing finger to the force field above that protected the city. Beyond the yellow field was the endless dark green of the ocean, pressing down oppressively onto the city of Atlantis. The ocean grew darker the further it was from the city, the only light being the glare from the city itself. Pale colored fish and other aquatic creatures surrounded the city on all sides, the algae that grew on the force field a constant source of food.

Anthony placed his hand firmly on Kevin's shoulder. "That's where some people go once they die. That's where you go if you've been bad."

"Can you swim there? How far up is it?" he asked. Like with most children who suddenly find the potential for new adventure, the wonder began to grow in his voice.

Laughing gently Anthony shook his head. "No. Our strongest swimmers have tried to go as high as they can, but no one's ever seen the end. You wouldn't want to go there anyway. It's a terrible place of heat and dryness. There's no sea or fish. It's punishment for leading a bad life."

"But how come I always see the bodies floating up there? Did they have bad lives?"

"Unfortunately. You see it's just like when you're swimming. You're body has an easier time going up than down because you float. Our lives are like that Kevin. It's easier to lead a bad life and float to hell, than it is to have a good one and dive downward. Too many people choose the easy path."

"Oh. I don't want to float there daddy." he said looking up to his father.

"Neither do I Kevin." he said while sadly observing the web like maze of cracks that had spread throughout the force field in latter years. "Neither do I."

Amanda began screaming once the glass door slid shut. She pounded with her fists on the only glass pane that didn't lead into the ocean. It happened to be the same pane that faced Cardinal Jol and Manis. Neither of them could hear the screaming or the pounding through the fifteen inch thick glass door. Cardinal Jol sat comfortably in a plush red chair that faced the glass chamber Amanda was currently occupying. Assuming Jol got his way, and there were no last minute changes, Amanda would soon perish in the glass cage.

As of late, Jol had been getting his way quite a bit. With the condition of the force field worsening exponentially, the people were becoming desperate for a solution. Cardinal Jol had discovered a solution and like all societies in desperate plight, they embraced the first solution wholeheartedly. Even Amanda had been one of the key supporters of Jol's plan to clear Atlantis of the evil ones so as to save the city from the wrath of God. Most of those supporters had not realized that Jol had been talking about them, but now that the cleansing had begun it was too late to stop it. The ones who weren't killed became more and more zealous. The survivors, of course, realized that if Jol's prophesy was true, they were indeed the chosen ones and would be the ones to recreate their civilization. The hope for salvation had spread like a disease, infecting the city with its madness.

Amanda was the 5,397th member of Atlantis to be executed for immoral behavior and endangering the lives of the remaining holy citizens of Atlantis. It was people like Amanda, who caused God to begin destruction of the shield. It was people like Jol who realized that God had actually given them time to save themselves from extinction. It was also people like Jol that enjoyed their position as the fist of God and were performing it with a vengeance.

And than there were people like Manis. Jol liked to call these people the necessary evils of the world. Someone had to round up the immoral ones and make sure the moral ones stayed moral, and Manis fit the bill to the tee. After all, the holy order couldn't actually dirty their hands with their deaths. The taking of someone's life was still one of the seven immoral crimes. But people like Manis were already doomed to hell beyond all redemption in the eyes of the church, so the added deaths wouldn't really matter to them and may actually earn them a second chance in God's eye.

Manis differed significantly from the others in his category. Most didn't actually believe they were doomed and saw this as an opportunity to do something they enjoyed, while Manis saw this as the way to his redemption. He chose to look at this not as the murdering of a person, but as the saving of countless others. He no longer took pleasure in the killings, as most of the others did, but he did it in a cold business like manner. This had become his necessary evil. Necessary for his survival in the after world.

Dressed in a three piece blue suit that hugged his massive build perfectly, Manis stood at attention behind Jol's seat. He watched intently as Amanda desperately pounded on the glass door. She looked as if she were screaming. The gears suddenly began turning with a whine. Amanda looked up anxiously knowing too well what would follow. Manis couldn't see the smile growing across Jol's face.

Manis watched quietly. He had already become used to the sight of the water flooding into the glass box, throwing the person into the transparent door. The people always looked somehow humorous with their body smeared against the glass pane. And then the room would be full, and the person would begin treading. Within a few moments the treading would become flailing and the person would begin to panic even more. They'd start kicking the walls or they'd run their hands desperately along the walls and ceiling looking for some exit that hadn't been there before. Then their chests would begin to burn and they'd have to breath even though they knew they couldn't. The coughing spasms would start once they drew in the water and they'd know they were going to die. They could be crying, but who really knew, the tears would just be lost in the sea. Once they began clutching their throats, one knew the end was close. A few of them would defiantly continue to search with their free hands, but most would give up resistance and begin to float towards the ceiling. And then their bulging eyes would slowly close shut, and they would just float there.

And that's what Amanda was doing now. Just floating there. Her hands had slowly loosened their grip on her now red throat, and spanned limply across the chamber. Both Manis and Jol remained still, watching her. Manis reached to pull the lever that would release Amanda to the sea and her judgment. But Jol stopped him with a raise of his hand.

"No." Jol began, his voice had a dreamy tone to it that Manis had never heard before, "Let her stay there for a bit."

Manis let his hand fall to his side but remained skeptical. This had never been done before. Usually he would send the body into the sea and wait for the judgment. So far every body had floated upwards, meaning that they had acted correctly and not killed a good person. This was always an anxious moment for Manis. If he ever killed someone that wasn't deserving he felt that he would fail in his bid for salvation.

"She looks so peaceful doesn't she?" Jol asked suddenly.

Manis examined the body resting at the top of the glass room and had to agree with Jol. She did look peaceful. She looked like she was sleeping. Sleeping gently, surrounded by the soft surface of water. "Yes, I guess she does." he answered reluctantly. The thought of a potential sinner resting comfortably after being put to death made him uneasy. They should be suffering for their crimes.

"It seems to be such a kind way to die. It looks almost inviting." Jol continued.

Manis shook his head softly. The thought of grasping horribly for something that was unattainable, trying viciously to get that last breath, terrified him. He often had nightmares of drowning. In his sleep he would clutch at his throat and chest enacting the desperate act in his dreams. He would wake with a gasp just as his body would begin its float upwards. After wiping his dripping face of his sweat, he'd lie back on his pillow, unable to find sleep for the duration of the night. Unable to shake the final images of floating from his mind he would stare at the ceiling and pray. Pray that the path he had chosen was the right one and not one leading further down the road to damnation.

"I think I would like to drown." Jol pondered out loud. "There is something noble about dying within one's own life source. Don't you think?"

"I think of it more as the pollution of the life source." Manis responded coldly.

Jol nodded his head slowly. "I guess it doesn't really matter though does it? We all end in the water anyway."

"That doesn't mean that we aren't polluting it."

"I suppose." Jol said and shrugged. He remained silent, staring at the body floating in front of him. How her white robe were fanned out across the water. And her arms outstretched forward. She looked like an angel. An angel waiting to be judged.

"I still think I would like to drown." Jol said and signaled Manis with a wave of his hand. Manis reached over, grasped the lever and pulled.

The gears groaned once more, this time retracting the clear ceiling of the chamber. Amanda's body slowly rose from the chamber and within a minute had risen from their view. Manis nodded his head approvingly. He had been right about her. He saw Jol looking upwards at where Amanda's body had last drifted from view. Jol sighed heavily and began to rise from his seat.

"Where did we go wrong Manis?"

Manis shrugged and turned to leave the room. "Maybe we're not in as much control as we like to think we are.

I could hear her soft breathing beside me. I could feel it casually gliding across my bare shoulder, dissipating over my chest. Her hand was idly caressing my chest, her fingers moving through my short hairs. Even while sleeping she managed to give me chills as her nails gently tickled me. It was almost real.

Why can't it be?

But staring up through the murky darkness of our bedroom, I couldn't help but see the cracked shield from our ceiling window. It glowed eerily from the lights of the city, the cracks reflecting a luminous green color. Despite the hand of my lover slowly rubbing my body, I could not banish the thoughts that invaded my mind. What normally brought me utter serenity, normally chased away my thoughts to bring me sleep, now did nothing but further my distress.

It isn't fair.

I slowly followed the intricate web of cracks across my ceiling window. Wishing beyond hope that they truly ended as they came to the edge of my window's vision. I had watched them forming for almost five years now. It took me nearly a year to realize what I was actually seeing. What it would mean to me. To my lover. To our three children. To everything I know. It took four more years, before I gave up. Four years of watching the collective denial, then the mad sprawl to find a solution but it came too late. Finally came the persecutions. Through all this I still hoped. It wasn't until tonight that I resigned to what I always knew to be true.

An eternity without her.

Being a man of science, I had never believed in a God. I certainly do not believe in the so called deity the priests have proclaimed to be the voice of. It was hard for me to imagine a God who would be so cruel as to bring about the end of a civilization without explanation. Without even giving us a chance to set right whatever had angered it. Having watched the systematic collapse of Atlantis unfold over the last several years only strengthened my resolve that a God does not exist.

The consequences of my decision.

Even the preachings of these priests, the so called scriptures and writings of this God, further my disbelief. In the funerals that have become all to common these days, all the writings are of the God, and how forgiving and almighty it is. The mourners drone in grief, how their God has called the dead to it in order to save the good. If these are the good, why is there no mention of their deeds throughout the funeral? Why is everything centered around the force that has called them? I sat quietly fuming through the hour ceremony of my sister, one of the most devout people I know. One of the few who actually believed in the church before the first cracks were discovered. Was there any mention of her devotion to the church? To her love and care for us? No.

To believe is to succumb to the temptation.

I turned slightly, careful not to wake my resting lover, but enough to get a better look at her. Despite the dark thoughts raping my mind, I could not help but smile. Her face was like an angel's. A small child curled in a tight ball, holding her favorite toy. The smile faded from my lips. I tried, but could not even fathom an existence without her. She had become such an integral part of my life, so intertwined with myself that it was hard to separate my feelings and thoughts from her own. Her influence was throughout me, mingling into, melding with my own soul. Without her I would simply cease to be.

She does not need to be lost.

Suddenly the troubles of the world seemed so insignificant compared to this. The loss of her would be devastating. Even with my cold rational screaming that I would be gone with her, my mind still tried to piece together what it would be like after. I tried to convince myself that there is nothing after death, but I could not accept this. She could not be for nothing. This emotion, so damned intense, so right, could not be a temporal thing. It had to be infinite. But it couldn't be.

Believing is easier.

So this is what they offered. Looking down at my lover, the tears rolling down my cheek unnoticed, I finally saw. To believe is to be able to be with her. To not have this ended in an abrupt flash of destruction, to not have my soul ripped asunder at my death. To believe is to hope.

Disbelieving is the hard part.

I ran my hand slowly down her wonderful hair, running my fingers deep. A small smile formed on her face, and she snuggled up even closer, a soft moan emitting from her perfect lips. I turned my head to my side, and kissed her forehead tenderly. Before closing my eyes I thought I heard her profess her love in a soft whisper. I'll never be sure.

Sleep can only come with salvation.

Gordon was hoping that the time release valve he had placed within the ball would be enough to correct this. The new valve would only give him a quick short burst of air. Unfortunately Gordon hadn't had time to test it at the actual pressure he would begin at, so everything was theoretical. In theory he should be able to get anywhere between ten and twelve minutes of air from the ball. If he wasn't at the top by then, he was dead. Pretty simple. Gordon took twelve rapid very deep breaths until he felt light headed. With one final draw of breath he waved to his apprentice to open the airlock. Gordon barely heard the door slide open before the water rushed in.

He was hurdling upwards through the sea before he could gather what had happened. It was difficult to keep hold of the two handles, but he clung desperately knowing full well that any hope of survival depended on it. The water rushed at his face, the pressure hurting his wide open eyes. Despite the salt burning his eyes he tried hard not to close them. He was determined to see every second of this journey. By the time the lights from Atlantis had been left behind, leaving the sea pitch black, Gordon's chest was beginning to burn. He held out as long as he could but he began to feel as if he would pass out. Leaning forward he placed his mouth on the valve and sucked as hard as he could. A rush of air slammed down his throat. He swallowed too hard and began to gag, trying desperately not to cough. Failing, he let out two quick coughs and lost the air that he had gained, but miraculously barely took in any water.

Trying to hold back the building panic, Gordon pulled the valve to him quickly and drew in air once more. He was prepared for the rush of air, but not as much came out this time. Realizing that this meant the pressure was decreasing he gave himself a quick mental cheer. The cheer was soon lost. After six more draws of air, the ball was substantially deflated causing the rise to slow. Gordon began to kick furiously to quicken the his ascent. He thought the water was getting lighter, but couldn't tell whether it was because he was now used to the darkness or if the water was truly lit. After three more breaths, Gordon wasn't sure whether to cheer or panic. The ball was only providing minimal propulsion, and his kicking was the only thing driving him upward. At the same time the sea was definitely much lighter. Up above, an unknowable distance, there seemed to be the bright source of light. With only two, three at the most, breaths left, Gordon wasn't sure if he could make it to the source.

After the second breath he knew the air was spent. He released his grip on the ball and began to push upward frantically with his arms. The muscles in his legs were screaming but he ignored them. Feeling the last of his air slipping away, he continued to shoot upwards. The source seemed so close now, the sea was so light and blue. His chest was burning. No more air. He kept pushing. Kept going upwards. Even as things began to blur, he fought on. His closing eyes intent on the large round light source above. His consciousness began to slide away. His feet began to slow, and suddenly a rush of air roared into his body triumphantly as he broke through the surface of the water.

He'd never realized that air had a taste to it. It tasted wonderfully salty and it filled his body as he drew it in relentlessly. Gordon tried to open his eyes but nearly cried out from the pain. The brightest light he'd ever seen flooded at him. He closed his eyes quickly, shielding them from the brilliant white light. His legs ached but he continued to tread in place while his closed eyes became adjusted. He anxiously awaited the chance to see the world that no man had ever visited alive.

Then the first cramp hit. A quick groan of pain escaped his lips as his stomach seemed to twist into a tight knot. He reached down to hold his stomach. The knot suddenly untied and wrapped itself into a fresh new design. Gordon screamed in pain, buckling forward. His face splashed into the water and he caught a mouthful, causing him to start coughing. The pain grew even worse, the cramps spreading down into his legs. It began to hurt to tread. He tried to move his legs as little as possible but still stay afloat. Slipping under water for a second, he painfully forced himself back to the surface. His stomach had shrunk to a small ball and it felt as if his legs were trying to join them. He slid under again and found it much harder to get back above. The water lapped at his chin, only his face was above the water. The tears streamed down his cheeks, the pain becoming unbearable. Gordon opened his eyes and saw the yellow ball of fire that sat in the sky just before he sunk under for the third and final time.

The sun bore heavily on Thales' strong and tanned back. With a grunt he thrust the net into the sea again. While praying to Poseidon he pulled the net slowly back into the boat. Empty. He shook his head slowly. Poseidon hadn't been kind as of late. He sat back heavily on to the bucket that sat in the middle of his empty small wooden fishing vessel. Leaning his head back he took a drink of water from his jug.

He hadn't caught more than a dozen fish in the last week. Ten fish. Barely enough to feed his wife and children, let alone barter with. He decided he would sacrifice the last lamb tonight. There was no other option. He sighed and went back to work. The net spread gracefully across the water and sank beneath the depths. There was something very heavy caught in it. Thales pulled the net in excited, not sure what it could be. When he saw the body come to the surface he dropped his net with a cry of surprise. The net dropped into the water but stayed wrapped around the floating corpse beside his boat.