Erik became methodical. Each evening, while the others stayed inside, he sat by the cliffs or walked the shore with his notebook in hand. At first, it was only instinct; he felt the hum at certain times, saw ripples when the bay should have been calm. But soon patterns emerged.
At dusk the water bulged. Near midnight, faint bubbles trailed in straight lines across the surface. Just before dawn, the gulls scattered, avoiding a particular patch above the shelf. He wrote it all down: dates, times, conditions.