Chapter 1-
The Ocean on His Shoulders
1960
Mid Atlantic
Devlin swam up to the shore of a light house after the plane crash. He looked back to the ocean, seeing no land. In front of him was a towering lighthouse, withered and made of stone. He crept up the stairs, while the sun began to tediously hide behind the horizon. Two large doors were at the end of the stairs, he pushed one open. Devlin peered into the darkness and stepped forward. Slam! He heard behind him in a spine chilling boom as the doors shut. Dim lights flickered on, revealing an ample bust of a man in a suit. Devlin read the propaganda attached to the statue "No gods or kings, only man." In front of the statue was a pedestal, which read "In what country is there a place for people like me? - Andrew Ryan." "La Mer" by Django Reinhardt began to faintly echo off the walls in its exquisite trance. It sounded as if it was coming from downstairs. He walked down the spiral staircase located behind the statue. Down on the bottom floor he found out where the music came from. It came from what looked like a submersible. A "Bathysphere" it was called. It was well lit inside. Devlin entered and pulled the lever downwards. He heard a subtle splash and constant bubbling, along with the rushing of steam and clanking of metal. The lights flickered out and he began to descend into the utmost depths of the sea.
It became pitch black inside. Devlin could hear the bubbling sound of the bathysphere sinking deeper and deeper. A powerful light connected to the Bathysphere shone. He seemed to be in a tube. Carved in luxurious gold like steel was "10 Fathoms," and after brief moment, "18 Fathoms." A screen folded down in front of him, covering the only view port of the bathysphere. A pre-recorded film narrative was projected onto the screen. On it was still picture of a man in a suit, like the bust from earlier, smoking a pipe. Next to him were the words "From the Desk of RYAN" "I am Andrew Ryan, and I am here to ask you a question. Is a man not entitled to the sweat of his brow? 'No!' says the man in Washington, 'It belongs to the poor.' 'No!' says the man in the Vatican 'It belongs to the poor.' And 'No!' says the man in Moscow! 'It belongs to God!' "I rejected those answers. Instead I chose something different. I chose the impossible, I chose... Rapture!"
The screen snapped back up. As the bathysphere toured up a seamount, it revealed a city. A considerably hefty squid whizzed by, along with schools of fish. The buildings had a entrancing turquoise glow to them. They were very art deco styled and were skyscraper like. They rooted from the ground like trees, with soil mounding up at the base. Like an underwater Manhattan. Reinforced tunnels made of glass and steel connected a quantity of the buildings. Numerous neon signs covered the buildings,advertising restaurants and business'. It was like looking at the world as a newborn.
Ryan continued "A city where the artist would not fear the censor. Where the scientist would not be bound by petty morality. Where the great would not be constrained by the small! And with the sweat of your brow, Rapture can become your city as well."
A titanic sized whale ambled under the bathysphere. From inside, Devlin heard a man with a fairly deep voice and a thick Irish accent
"...but the lighthouse is all lit up like hellfire...looks like some kind of plane crash."
Another man spoke "We're in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, how could it-"
"Dunno, you best get over there, and be quick about it. The splicers are coming."
"You've gotta be kidding, how do you even know someone's even coming?"
"Cause we got a bathysphere on the way down. That means we've got company."
The submersible entered a tube. And it finally began to ascend into a building.