. . . on the Sea Berth’s fantail, the crew had winched the deep-water vehicle from its hanger. Barely fulfilling Dan’s image of a submersible, this machine was an oddball monstrosity of propellers, hydraulic arms, and titanium framework. He had expected something more streamlined, submarine-like, but it looked more like a great one-eyed mutant insect.

A large clear globe sat between two black metal pontoons, breached only by a tiny hatch at the top that seemed entirely too small for a human being to pass through. Two criss-crossing metal braces anchored the sphere to the superstructure and its interior brimmed with electronic instruments and two small passenger seats.

Two robotic arms sprouted from the ends of the pontoons—folded in a way that reminded Dan of a praying mantis. Video and photographic cameras hung from every surface, protected in their own spherical housings.

Dan noticed the name painted in white along one pontoon. "Sea Zee," he said out loud. "Interesting name."

Rachel chuckled. "We have a better name for it."

"What’s that?"

"The human fishbowl."