The dream begins in a basement. I’m playing an elaborate miniature wargame. Someone has set up a diorama of a pebble beach where two special forces teams are returning from some clandestine mission. The detail is museum display quality.
Rising from the shore is a tower –perhaps the entrance to a larger subterranean facility. The tower is tall, sleek, curved, windowless, and without much in the way of external features except for a heavy steel door, locked from the inside.
Suddenly, the special forces teams are thrashing through the surf to make their escape inside 2 beached minisubs, and I’m right there with them ducking inside the hatch moments before the minisub extricates itself for deeper waters. Either I’ve shrunk down to miniature size, or the diorama merged with reality and now exists on the scale of nature.
Through a porthole in the minisub, or via an LED screen with an external feed, I can see into the water outside the sub. We’re still close enough to the surface that there’s light enough to see. A larger interception sub is speeding through the water right towards us, like something between a torpedo and a shark. We dive just in time to avoid a collision, but our maneuvers have brought us up against another hulk, almost slamming into it. We surface next to the mother sub and the special forces guys pour themselves onto its deck. Mission complete.
A great crash thunders from the ocean behind me. I turn to see the facility tower rising from the waves in a gale of froth and spray. Only, of course it isn’t a stationary structure, it’s the conning tower of a gargantuan submarine. A massive tail is lashing the ocean behind it, a smooth coil agile as a sea serpent, and longer than an aircraft carrier. Powerful enough to rip the beached tower from the sands, and probably while taking half the shoreline with it.
I’m back inside a basement workshop, and the Zeuglodon Submarine’s creator is holding the huge model out to me like he’s posing with his prize catch, so I’m able to see its entirety and marvel at it from all angles. The front end is rendered with a craftsmanship on par with the best Japanese “Maschinen Krieger”-style scratch builders. Vaguely like a sperm whale’s head, but bulbous with torpedo ports and esoteric technology, giving the whole thing a mutated and biomechanical vibe. The tail end was injection molded in clear red PVC plastic, enabling it to stretch out at length without weighing too much.
A particularly paunchy area of the midsection catches my eye. The body is no longer clear red plastic, but the slick stealth black of a submarine in dry dock. The midriff writhes with life from within. I realize the Zeuglodon submarine is pregnant…