“So, you finally applied to that position in Seattle I told you about, right?” Father said, looking down for his next bite at the packed deli sandwich his thick hands were holding.
“Mhm” I mumbled between chomps of the orange chicken and rice in my gullet.
“Good” He quickly let out a sigh regaining his strained breath. “I think with your schooling and my reputation you might have a good gig on your hands. She would want you to have it I think.”
“She would, it’s just a while deeper than I’ve ever gone. I mean 2 weeks and no fresh air? Pfft” I spat. “That's a whole lotta time to be under the water, trust me I could do it. Theres just something about being away from any familiar face that I have a problem with.”
“You’ll have a chance to get to know whatever team you’re assigned with, I mean it's important you guys know each other well before living that deep underwater.”
“Yeah, suppose you’re right.”
It was the uncomfortable burn of summer in September of 2002; I had just graduated college and purchased an apartment when my parents who were away got into a freak diving accident off the coast of a random island in Hawaii. Nearly killing my mother. She was airlifted to a nearby island with a sophisticated emergency room. My father, Dr. Aberam Whisener, had done much to preserve and repair the SeaLife local to the PNW. Father and mother shared many hobbies after they retired early due to my father's achievements. My mother had been on life support for almost 6 days, and my dad and I had made the decision to let her go. He wanted me to apply for a position at the pacific northwest marine research institution (PMRI for short). There were multiple openings involving the research of ancient sharks that had just popped off the coast of Seattle. Many institutions including the one I was applying for flocked from all around the country to the coast of Washington for the study of these newly appearing species. I had just finished my long training in saturation diving and had been doing practice dives during the summer of my college years. The deepest I’d ever been 150ft back in May of that year. There was a deep-water research position open at the newly founded Seattle location of the research institution. The expeditions last for around 2 weeks; it takes about 30 minutes to get to the seabed and about 2 days to slowly acclimate back to the surface. I had read the job description thoroughly, as well as the manual surrounding the technology we’d be using. The underwater habitats would be kept at around 17.3 atmospheres and would be using a closed-circuit rebreather with exact trimix/heliox blends to reduce gas consumption. The atmospheric diving suits would make sure that me and the rest of the team assignee's lungs and the rest of us would stay intact. The bell that would bring us back to the surface was well above regulation. Being fitted with supplies and ratios to last double the resurface time. The only thing at was unknown was how it was in practice. Seeing that it was the research of sharks that had just appeared; no one at the time had ever actually gone down. The other jobs I had applied for had not nearly as much risk involved. But didn’t pay nearly as much. Little to my surprise, I was brought in for further interviewing and testing to see I was a good fit for the job. I was a fit young man, about 5ft 9’ and on the skinny side weighing in at about 160 pounds. Unlike now, I had a rather small appetite but wasn’t picky when I did eat, making it difficult to gain weight my parents and previous parters said I need gain.