To whoever pulls this up from the dark in a hundred years: we spent our whole lives teaching light how to cross the deep. Please keep it crossing.

The ocean is patient and it is not on your side. You learn to be patient right back.

People forget the internet is mostly a rope of glass on the seabed, kept alive by a handful of us on boats.

Every message you send crosses a splice somebody made by hand and then walked away from forever.

Spent nine hours today splicing a strand thinner than a hair, three kilometers under the surface. Nobody will ever see the joint. That is the whole job.