Half the Day Is Night Read Free

knee was obvious. It wasn’t like his good one, up above it the yellow stripe down the tights showed the kind of hollow place where it was all scarred up. And he had skinny legs, legs like a chicken.
    David had trouble with the seals, it took him awhile to figure out how they worked. He pulled up the hood and decided he didn’t like the way he looked so he pulled it back down. He would have liked to pull his hair back, maybe he should get it cut? Long hair was old-fashioned. Eh, not the time to think about it.
    He picked up his flippers and gloves and went out through the living room to a kind of utility room.
    Bennet didn’t have his hood up, either. He was doing something with the recyc units. David waited a moment, not sure if Bennet knew he was there or not. “I should, ah, learn what you are doing?”
    Bennet started a little but didn’t look up. “Yeah, the masks are in the closet.”
    The two masks were hanging on the wall like faces. Above them on the shelf was an AP15 rifle. He looked at the rifle. “Why does Ms. Ling have an AP15?” he asked. He could not stop himself from picking it up.
    â€œShe has a permit. I took some security classes, they said she was allowed to have one. She’s going to sell it back.”
    David popped the clip and cracked it to see if it was clean. The clip was full, the rifle looked as if it had never been used. “I thought they did not allow them in Caribe.”
    â€œMilitary issue. They’re not a good idea in a dome. Crack the dome, you break the integrity and the water pressure squashes the place flat.”
    His head was a little clearer this morning, he had followed that. “What’s the range underwater?”
    â€œI don’t know,” Tim sounded irritated. “You ever used one before?”
    â€œNot underwater. In Africa.” In Namibia, Windhouk, Gobabis, and the Kalahari, David thought. Before that in Serowe, Soweto, Pretoria. Mbabane and bloody Durban. South Africa.
    â€œAre you going to stand there and play with the gun or are you going to hand me a mask.”
    â€œExcuse me,” David said, embarrassed. But he pulled the clip before he put the rifle back and picked up two masks. Idiot. He had promised himself he would be careful, he would make a good impression on these people. It was time to forget Africa. He should have ignored the rifle. So clean, still steel blue and smelling faintly of oil.
    He’d had an AP15 but not one like this with its fake wood stock. His stock had been a metal frame with a place on it where he’d scraped it on the sidewalk in Joburg.
    He could not keep this job. Too many things were not right. He had come here to start new but security was guns and fear and he did not want any of that.
    â€œMayla has three recyc units but the Honeywell is so old that it doesn’t even have a humidifier.” Bennet showed him how to put one on, how to jack the connections into the mask and hook the airfeed into the jaw. “Ever use a full facemask before?”
    â€œYes, and a mike. What is the setting?” He had never used one for swimming but the facemask was similar to the respirator mask they used to drill for gas attacks. He would not mention that.
    â€œThree. Four through eight are commercial bands. Nine is official, Port Authority mostly. Most of the fish jocks use eleven and twelve, so if you need help, try those.”
    â€œFish jocks?” David said.
    â€œFish jockeys. The guys that work at the fish farms. Divers. Public starts at thirteen so everything above that is crowded. Eighteen is emergency but the local police force is not very useful.” Tim pulled on his flippers. “Ever swam in the dark?” Tim asked.
    â€œNo.” And did not plan to do it often, thank you.
    â€œOkay. There’s a lamp mounted on your mask. The switch is a touch plate, you have to tap it twice to turn it off.” He tapped once underneath the eye of