Patient Blue
The Journey

On the morning of the journey that would change his life forever, Pete Callaghan contemplated the gloom of a dank January morning. He was seventeen and in his final year of high school, which he hated. And despite strident encouragement bordering on threats from his parents, to aim for something meaningful that didn’t involve a Playstation, Youtube or NETFLIX, he had no clue about what he wanted to do with his life.

His parents often spoke in almost religious tones about the mythical gilded world of university where successful young people who didn’t work full time at Burger King or Matalan went, and were happy. There you could broaden your horizons meet the right sort and by association, give your parents free reign to talk with pride and a little disdain of their dedication and sacrifices to the parents of kids who worked full time at Burger King or Matalan. It was a world so charmed and wonderful it was worth every penny of the twenty seven grand debt you’d run up before you eventually ended up working full time at Burger King or Matalan.

Outside it was sleeting or maybe just a cold thick drizzle. There was no chance of snow of course, not here. The weather was just chill and boring, so, so boring. He loved snow but that hardly ever happened now so he’d given up on it. He had begun to actively pray for global warming ‘Oh God, please send us more warmth and sunshine soon.’ Every report about raised global temperatures rather perversely pleased him, unlike many of his contemporaries who seemed to view it as a terrible thing worse than nuclear war and the Bubonic plague combined.

To them Al Gore was the new Messiah and melting ice was disastrous for Polar Bears which they considered to be cute, especially the little ones. To be honest he had to admit they were, on TV at least, with Big Dave commentating. But Polar Bears can swim and besides, if you met a big one and it started ripping off your arm to feed to a little one, would you replace them so cute then eh?

He also mused this was England, land of the anorak, Wellington boots, crap beaches and cold grey sea. What could be so bad about more warmth, exotic, though non dangerous wildlife and vineyards in Newcastle? To make matters worse he also had the flu, well perhaps a cold but he definitely felt rough, a seventeen don’t stress me I’m really fucking ill, perhaps dying kind of rough.

Pete though, despite the weather and his sniffle, was in a happy almost euphoric mood. He had actually won something and something really worth winning, and against odds of millions to one. Sadly it wasn’t the lottery but it was still pretty spectacular. Each High School throughout Europe had held a draw with every pupil automatically entered. The prize an all-expenses paid trip and tour underground of the San Jose mine in Chile where thirty three miners had been so miraculously rescued and become household names, at least in Chile.

Inevitably they had faded back into obscurity, alcoholism and acrimonious latino non entity once again. But their moments of drama and fame remained legendary and was being celebrated now in the ‘San Jose’ underground experience theme park. The draw and prize was apparently to celebrate the enduring spirit of mankind and the will to survive against all odds. Unbelievably he had been one of the hundred winners, fifty boys and fifty girls.

‘Chile here we come, ariba!’

Now he was on his way, leaving the cold northern hemisphere winter drizzle behind and heading to a southern hemisphere summer. In the car on the way to the airport, his mother fussed and worried about the trip, telling him to take care eat properly and not do anything rash or stupid. His father mumbled the occasional, ‘be careful son, but try to enjoy yourself, it may only happen once.’ Pete would try very hard indeed to enjoy himself and no mere runny nose would stop him taking his place with what he hoped would be a fine selection of Euro totty a kilometre underground.

Pete and the other winners eventually arrived at the site after enduring an almost eighteen hour flight from Heathrow, which included two unscheduled stopovers on the way. The delay had been caused by bizarre sun spot activity that had sent all satellite and ground control radar haywire. Before finally departing, the whole party had gathered from all corners of Europe at a four star airport hotel the evening before the flight and smiling reps from the competition’s sponsors BMW, encouraged, with only limited success all of them to mingle.

The group of Europe’s finest youth comprised a mixed bag encompassing all national stereotypes. Disappointingly from Pete’s point of view most of the girls were aloof and sullen, except for Trude Hemeskirk, a tall rather striking blonde from Amsterdam, who had earlier smiled at him. The boys all seemed arrogant and unfriendly and with the exception of Pete, the only English student, fluently bilingual. Still, he considered that at least Trude had shown some potential promise.

Once at the site and following a photo call which comprised of the group clustered around a new seven series BMW called a Spirit. The party in mixed groups of twenty had entered the capsule that would take them deep underground. Eighty of them had already descended and it was now Pete and pleasingly for him, Trude’s turn to go below.

Due to the delayed flight it was now after midnight, but full bookings at the mine for the next year meant that the tours underground operated twenty four hours a day and seven days a week. The owners no doubt trying to make as much money as possible to recoup their astronomical costs before the original event faded from memory and visitor numbers dwindled. Latin America’s answer to Euro Disney, but without the magic, Mickey Mouse or Pirates of The Caribbean.

It was dark with the southern hemisphere summer sun having slipped below the horizon hours earlier. As the capsule door closed with a soft hush, Pete’s attention was drawn reluctantly away from Trude to the horizon where the sun had earlier set. There a deep crimson seemed to be spreading across the sky brightening perceptibly and beginning to turn the velvety darkness to an early dawn, a dawn that appeared to have broken freakishly early. The stars began to disappear leaving only the brightest still visible. The moon previously full and shiny dimmed.

Pete caught the panicked looks on the faces of the mine staff and gathered journalists and felt heat rising inside the capsule which had now begun to descend to the depths. What was happening? He glanced at Trude, who was looking confused rather than scared. The darkness of the shaft replaced the unnatural light and heat of the night outside and Pete pondered on the strange phenomena occurring above, wondering what he might replace on his return to the surface.