About three years ago, I was a science reporter on board the North Atlantic Research

Vessel, Baseline Explorer.

We were roughly 20 kilometers off the coast of Bermuda at the time, I was getting set to go down in a two-man submersible,

something I'd wanted to do since I was a kid.

The pilot of the sub was a deep-sea veteran called Percy. Great guy, great sense of humour, spoke

with a thick Texan droll that made even dumb things sound folksy and wise. First words he said to me were,

whoever been down one of these things? Never, I was grinning, excited as a schoolboy.

I was practically shaking.

You'll never forget it, he assured me.

In hindsight, that was some genius level foreshadowing if I ever heard it.

If I ever heard it.

These submersibles weigh in at about 8 tons, rigged with state-of-the-art scientific equipment, massive search beams mounted just

forward at the acrylic bubble. They're ultra-manuevable, even at extreme depths. You can

spin them 360 degrees on a dime, and there you have this massive hydraulic arm

that the pilot controls with a joystick.

I saw Percy move that arm so skillfully. I swear to God he could have plucked the pacifier

out of a baby's mouth without even waking it. When he wasn't piloting the sub, Percy liked

to play computer games back in the ship's rec room.

I've played untold levels of call a duty with him and take it from an old school

gamer like me. This guy is crazy good, and what's even crazier is 58 years old with six grandchildren

Percy was a great guy but But after that voyage, my first, his hundred and third, he was never that same

guy again. None of us were over the same again.

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