Subnautica V16.06.2023 -

Not the Reefbacks’ deep, mournful bellow. This was… human. A perfect, high-fidelity recording of the Degasi crew’s distress signal, but backwards. When I reversed my hydrophone recording, it was just screaming. My screaming. From last week.

I found it two days ago, patrolling the new trench that opened after the last seismic shift (probably the v16.06.3 patch stabilizing the terrain—thanks, Alterra). The trench led to a cave system that wasn’t on my old maps. Bioluminescent coral that pulsed in 4/4 time. Jellyrays with eyes on the inside of their bells.

“Fabricator offline. Hunger threshold: critical.”

The Echo mimics. It learned my voice. It learned my fear. Subnautica v16.06.2023

The water pressure here doesn't just crush you. It remembers you.

The lifepod start-up chime. My lifepod. The one that burned up on entry.

I don’t know if this is a new species added in the stability patch. I don’t know if the planet is finally digesting me. All I know is the water is getting warmer. And the singing is getting closer. Not the Reefbacks’ deep, mournful bellow

I used to think silence was the worst part. The dead hum of the Aurora’s reactor after I patched it. The muffled thud of my own heartbeat inside the Prawn Suit. But no. Silence is a lie down here. The real horror is the wrong noise.

And then I heard the singing.

I have thirty seconds of oxygen if I eject. Thirty seconds to swim to my emergency air pump. When I reversed my hydrophone recording, it was

It spoke.

My own voice. From yesterday, when I ran out of salted peepers.

“Welcome aboard, Captain. All systems online.”

But the Echo is down there, at the lip of the brinefall. It doesn’t come up. It just tilts that spiral face. And sings again.

I breached the surface of the Lost River two minutes ago. The brinefalls are yellow and poisonous. My Prawn’s left arm is damaged. Hull integrity at 18%.