The Locket

The locket has been in my family for generations. One of my however-many-great grandmothers created it when the oceans rose all those years ago, or that’s what my mother told me. She said it was the key to rebuilding life on the surface when the oceans fell back down - if the oceans fell back down. All of us Keepers had strict instructions to not open it until that day comes. I used to think it never would.

As far as anyone could remember, the world has always been full of water. We have photos of what the world looked like in the Dry Time, but most of us thought that was a legend. A utopia where people lived in Land Houses and drove Automobiles. Somewhere where you wouldn’t have to worry about sharks or leaks. It was a fairytale that kids held onto, like Santa or the Tooth Fairy. But like those, we everyone grew up and stopped believing in such a thing.

Living on the surface of the water isn’t strange. It was all we had known for hundreds of years. We created raft cities and new boats and submarines. Some scientists created labs under the waves to harness hydroelectricity, so we still have tech and all that. It’s fun to see how different today is from the legends of the Dry Time.

A few decades ago, back when I was still a teenager, the scientists in the fancy labs noticed something. They reran the tests dozens, hundreds of times to make sure they were reading things correctly. The ocean levels were dropping. It started slowly, maybe by half an inch, but the levels dropped faster and faster as the years went on. I was 20 when my mother told me about the locket.

I didn’t believe her at first. How could a silver heart carry the key to living on the surface again? I begged her to let me open it right then and there, but she reminded me of the rule. I cannot open it until it is time to step on the surface. I hated that it’s contents were so secret, but my mother made me promise with my soul to follow that rule. So I did.

I can’t remember how many nights I laid awake, feeling the thin chain against my neck, feeling the delicately carved filigree on the surface of the metal. I began allowing myself to remember the fairytales I grew up with. What would it be like once we could live on the surface? Would anyone want to? Would anyone allow us to? Things were too complicated. I have myself way too many headaches thinking of all the logistics of doing such a thing.

Time went on as the oceans lowered. I met a girl and we got married. Our wedding was beautiful, lotus flowers surrounding a glass platform. My dress incorporated those same flowers, and she had them in her hair. Looking back, it’s funny how we had those flowers. The ones that symbolize rebirth. The locket hung around my neck that day, too.

We never had kids. Not because of any particular reason, just because we wanted to be there for our friends and family when they had little ones. And they had plenty! Her brother ended up having triplets and they needed all the help they could get. We were happy with the life we lived.

As the years flew by and the oceans dropped, my love and I grew older. Grey striped my mahogany hair as I kissed the laugh lines by her eyes. When my legs gave out, she would push my chair to our favorite dock to stargaze. I was 82 when the first sign of land appeared.

The following years passed by in a blur. Scientists led expeditions onto dry land for the first time in centuries. We saw news coverage of broken buildings and waterlogged stadiums. After a few months of researching, they announced that it was safe to go outside and on the new solid ground. Everyone was devastated by what they saw. Dry, cracked land with barely any life at all. There was no way we would be able to live there. But my wife looked at me and grinned, that same old spark in her eyes that I fell in love with. I nodded and opened the locket.

Inside was a thin strip of paper with coordinates: 78.23571437849692, 15.491335628402688. It was somewhere in Old Norway. The back read this: Knock three times. One of my nephews volunteered to take us there, excited to see what the key to restarting land living was. We charted a course and stuck to it. With the modern boats it didn’t take us too long, only about a 2-days trip.

It was cold there. Snow packed the ground when we arrived, leaving a barren field of white. In the middle of the field was a small, grey hut. It was triangular, jutting out of the earth like a forgotten relic. On the front we could see a small door.

All I could hear was my heartbeat as we approached the door. It beat hard in my ears; bum-bum. bum-bum, bum-bum. I looked at my wife behind me as she bent down to hug my shoulders. My nephew grinned at me, though I could see the nerves in his eyes. With a deep breath, I knocked on the door.

Knock

Knock

Knock

The sound of my fist against the metal door echoed around us. We waited for a response. Nothing happened. My nephew knocked again, louder. I felt my teeth shake from the force. No response.

At this point my nerves were getting the better of me. I searched the locket and the paper for anything that might give any clue as to what to do next. There was nothing, just the coordinates and instructions. It was bitterly cold, the wind whipping at our faces. I didn’t want to go home, not like this. I convinced them to stay 5 more minutes.

Nothing happened in those minutes. I could feel tears well up in my eyes, cold from the wind. This isn’t how this was supposed to go. My wife placed a soft kiss on my cheek - a silent apology as she turned my chair and we began the short walk back to the boat. We were about 20 feet away when we heard a loud creak from behind us.

The door opened, and out walked a young man, his hand shielding his eyes from the sun. His chest was heaving as he ran to us. When he got close, a manic smile grew on his face and he held out his hand. Inside was a silver heart-shaped locket.

He took us inside and explained that they had a safety box and a locket that was passed from generation to generation. They had no clue what was in it, but were given instructions to open it when someone knocked three times. He led us down an elevator and through impossibly tall library stacks. The shelves didn’t hold books, though. Cradled in neat little slots were boxes of...something. I wasn’t sure what they were. He eventually led us to a single box in a wall. He smiled the same smile my wife had a few days ago. It was time to open the box.

Inside was a letter from the man and woman who created this plan. Our however-many-great grandparents. It explained how this bunker contained carefully-preserved seeds to just about every plant from before the Flood. All of the people in this bunker were descendants of the few that worked here initially, all those years ago. They all had knowledge of how to cultivate the seeds to maturity, so those plants would create more seeds and make more plants.

As the young man and I read the letter, we realized the same thing. Our ancestors created this plan so that if the oceans ever fell again, we could allow nature to flourish again. It would take generations and hundreds of more years, but we had the blueprints to begin the journey. After years of wondering about the locket and it’s meaning, I finally understood what it was.

The locket was hope.