The island turned into a water vortex, as he knew it would. The goddess or siren or whatever rose out of it high into the sky. She looks toward the now glowing blue sphere above her instead of away like before; all her attention is focused on it while the waters from the whirling dervish keep her tethered to a world ocean. She cannot rise any higher. Yet, suspended as she is, she remains safe. For now. We keep the water going.
All I can do is watch from afar, not interfering, not even upon threat of global extinction. We are probably near the end times but who knows. Look at Prince and 1999 and the Y2K threat. Everyone thought it was the end *then*. But we — they — continued on. This time seems… different.
I must go back to the ship and tell the others of this new development.
