Cabin six was quiet. Too quiet. Stephen knew that if this was a horror film, the serial killer would come out of the closet and hack them all to death. It set him on edge not to hear the distant hum of technology, not to hear the steady sounds of zooming cars. He had never noticed how much he had grown accustom to constant sound, a trait that many people do not realize until it is forever gone.
The silence made it so that Stephen could not sleep that night.
So, Stephen thought of home. His real home on the Surface, the house that he had grown up in that had meant so much to him.
While he knew it was only August, or maybe it was September. He had lost track of time here in Atlantis. But he thought about Christmas, of all things. Probably because it was snowing outside. It always snowed b
