Hearts of the Abyss

The descending levels of the deep sea are named in a rather romantic way. 

 

From the surface until 200 meters below is the Sunlight Zone (the epipelagic zone), the farthest most humans will ever venture in their lifetimes. Below that is the Twilight Zone (mesopelagic zone), reaching 1000 meters below surface level, followed by the Midnight Zone (bathypelagic zone), which stretches until 4000 meters deep. This thematic naming is interrupted as we go deeper still, into the Abyssal Zone (abyssopelagic zone), sinking another 2000 meters deeper to the point of seeming bottomless, so deep below that light cannot reach it. It is followed by the Hadal Zone (hadopelagic zone), named after the Greek god Hades, and so darkly cold one may truly believe they were in the Underworld. Despite living in a total absence of light, most creatures of the deep sea continue to thrive, guiding themselves in that utter darkness by creating their own illumination: bioluminescence.

 

Bioluminescence as a function exists in a multitude of different organisms of the deep sea. It is caused by a chemical reaction called chemiluminescence, between luciferin (light-emitting molecules) and luciferase (enzymes) that creates photons of light. Above the deep sea, the most common case of bioluminescence that humans have bore witness to comes in the form of plankton – tiny marine organisms that include both animals and algae. Often called fireflies of the sea, various beaches around the world advertise them as tourist attractions. Spectacles. What they likely don’t mention is how those plankton only emit light to distract or evade predators. Instead, tourists are encouraged to paddle through their colonies, shoving their way through thousands of plankton - just to see their light.

 

Using bioluminescence as a defense mechanism isn’t exclusive to surface plankton, however. Various creatures lurking far below them also do the same. Vampire squids will spew a glowing ink at their predators to create propulsion, pushing themselves away speedily; that leftover goo also makes their predator a likely target for even more dangerous creatures. Bioluminescence is also used in many different other ways; from providing camouflage against the backdrop of light from the surface of the water in a process known as “counter illumination,” to luring and finding prey or a mate. The loosejaw dragonfish can emit a bright red light under their eyes to illuminate any crimson-colored animals in the deep sea, where red light cannot usually penetrate, and so they are essentially invisible without this special form of night-vision. Lanternfish have different patterns in the lights along their sides to differentiate between males and females, and often flashing lights are also used as a way to attract a mate or let others know they are ready to mate. 

 

In a place as dark as the ocean, anything can be used as a tool to survive. In a place as dark as the ocean, light is a sign of life. Of the desire to live.

 

Did you know humans are also able to glow? 

 

The function for this may vary depending on the situation, but I believe there are two most common reactions to it; intimidation, and attraction. I would fall into the latter category.

 

I have never been to the bottom of the ocean, nor do I ever wish to visit it, but I imagine it is rather similar to the bottom of that spiral staircase I occasionally retreat to in the dark of the night and the back of my mind. A hard and rough ground against my back, freezing and damp, and so dark I wouldn't be able to see my hands, even if I waved them in front of my face. It merges with the sea: an absence of motion despite the ripples around me, and something that vaguely feels like spindly legs near my own, gradually creeping up to caress my face. Consuming me.

 

Yet every so often, a light shows up far above – someone was illuminating me with their radiance. A warmth invades the thin space between us, dispelling the stark cold and permeating through my flesh and bones and heart until all can feel is their light.

 

It is utterly captivating. There in my own little section of the deep sea, completely weightless and blank, I am simply content watching from afar as they emit their glow.

 

And just like bioluminescent creatures, that glow comes in all forms, volumes, and brightness. 

 

Dancers and actors mapping out the position of their feet along the lines of a stage. Scientists with their eyes wide open to evaluate an experiment. Children learning how to color within the lines, then deciding they don’t want to. Writers doing research late into the night for the sake of authenticity and accuracy. Even a tired office worker resting after a long day with a cup of warm and bitter coffee, or a young student finally mustering up the courage to talk to their crush.

 

Every single one of them is glowing.

 

My parents as they discuss the admiration they hold for the architect Gaudí. My friends furiously laughing, almost cackling, as we talk about the most inane topics. My cousin whenever she speaks Spanish, the language she has been learning for over six years and continuously improving at every day. 

 

A reader, much like yourself, as they sit with their back bent over like a rimicaris exoculata – or in other words, a deep-sea shrimp – enwrapped within the snowy spaces between each word. 

 

And every person when next to every person they love.

 

(Sometimes, that light is overwhelming as well. Sometimes, I find it hard to look directly into the faces and eyes of the people I love for too long. They are simply that dazzling, and I am but a single drop of water in the abyss that surrounds them, that surrounds all of us. Sometimes I hope that in their eyes, I may glow too.)