The extraordinary expedition of an erupting mind AnA SAlinAS The exTraordinary expediTion of an erupTing mind Ana Salinas Ovi ebooks are available in Ovi/Ovi eBookshelves pages and they are for free. If somebody tries to sell you an Ovi book please contact us immediately. For details, contact: ovimagazine@yahoo.com No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior permission of the writer or the above publisher of this book An Ovi eBooks Publication 2025 Ovi eBookPublications - All material is copyright of the Ovi eBooks Publications & the writer C The extraordinary expedition of an erupting mind The extraordinary expedition of an erupting mind Ana Salinas Ana Salinas An Ovi eBooks Publication 2025 Ovi eBookPublications - All material is copyright of the Ovi eBooks Publications & the writer C The extraordinary expedition of an erupting mind I t began, as most disasters do, with a committee meeting. Dr. Hugo Grimsworth, head geologist and self-proclaimed “volcano whisperer,” had just con- cluded a fifteen-minute monologue about tectonic grace when the volcano decided to speak for itself by exploding. The research base Vulcanis Alpha was nestled in- side Mount Furore, a crater so vast and tempera- mental it could be mistaken for an angry god with indigestion. The team had been there for twelve days, which was precisely eleven days too long, and now, as tremors shook the steel walkways, they realized that their expedition report might end up as an ar- chaeological discovery. * * * * * * * * * * Ana Salinas “Everyone remain calm!” shouted Dr. Grimsworth, clutching a clipboard as though it could deflect mol- ten rock. A chunk of ceiling disagreed, landing two feet from his boots with a noise that sounded suspiciously like “nonsense.” “Define calm!” yelled Dr. Mina Choudhary, the team’s volcanologist, who was attempting to rescue a tray of core samples while the lab lights flickered like a disco for the damned. “Because if calm means not running for our lives , I might have some feedback!” Professor Leonard Briggs, the team’s engineer, ad- justed his soot-covered spectacles and muttered, “If this is the big one, at least my pension won’t have time to disappoint me.” A low rumble shivered through the chamber. The floor heaved. Somewhere deep below, magma began plotting its upward career trajectory. * * * * * * * * * * Mount Furore was considered “dormant” by the Ministry of Geothermal Affairs, which in bureau- cratic language meant “we have other priorities, and it hasn’t exploded this fiscal quarter .” The extraordinary expedition of an erupting mind Now, however, the magma chamber was surging like bad soup. The team’s escape tram—the only me- chanical link to the outside world, had been swal- lowed by a collapsing tunnel ten minutes earlier. “We are trapped ,” Briggs announced, as if reading the room required confirmation. “The elevator shaft’s blocked, the air vent’s too narrow, and the emergency beacon fell into the lava. So yes ...trapped!” Dr. Choudhary leaned against a cracked console, sweat streaking her forehead. “There’s still the geo- thermal pipe network. The service tunnels might lead to the old observation station above the ridge.” Grimsworth brightened. “Brilliant! See, people? Science always provides an exit.” Then a tremor knocked him flat. “Science,” said Mina, “just slapped you for optimism.” * * * * * * * * * * Dr. Emil Rousseau, biologist and snack hoarder, had been silent until now, mainly because he was eating. “Before we all perish,” he said between bites, “does anyone want half a sandwich?” “No!” they chorused. Ana Salinas “It’s pastrami,” he added hopefully. Briggs glared. “Emil, if I die smelling that sand- wich, I swear I’ll haunt you.” “Scientifically impossible,” Emil replied. “Haunt- ing lacks empirical evidence.” “Then I’ll invent it.” * * * * * * * * * * They crawled through the maintenance corridor, a metal worm of rust and heat, dragging equipment, oxygen tanks, and the faint hope that one of them would later be awarded a medal for this. “Air’s thinning,” said Mina, checking her gauge. “Oxygen at seventy percent.” Grimsworth wheezed. “Mine says forty.” “That’s your blood pressure monitor, Hugo.” “Oh. Well, that’s bad too.” A sudden roar shook the walls. A fissure burst open beside them, spilling orange light and molten sparks. For one cinematic moment, the scientists looked like explorers in a Jules Verne fever dream, soot-streaked, desperate, yet stubbornly academic. The extraordinary expedition of an erupting mind “Go! Go!” shouted Mina. “Left tunnel, hurry!” They ran, slipping on metal grates, their shadows flickering madly. The roar behind them grew louder, a dragon exhaling death. * * * * * * * * * * They burst into a circular chamber lined with pres- sure gauges and old machinery, the kind of place built when safety was more of a rumour. Briggs examined the controls. “We could redirect the geothermal flow, release the pressure. It might buy us time.” “Or blow us up faster,” said Emil. “Yes, but in a controlled manner,” Briggs replied, al- ready flipping levers. Steam hissed. Valves spun. Somewhere below, something groaned like an awakening god. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Mina asked. “Of course!” Briggs lied. “Probably.” * * * * * * * * * * Ana Salinas An explosion answered. The floor tilted violently. Grimsworth grabbed a railing and shouted, “Every- one out! That’s not a pressure release that’s the mag- ma surge!” “Correction,” said Briggs, coughing through the smoke. “It was a pressure release and a magma surge! Efficient!” They scrambled into another tunnel, the ceiling collapsing behind them. Emil dropped his sandwich. “My lunch!” “Forget it!” Mina screamed. “I can’t! It’s the only one left!” The sandwich vanished into the lava below with a sizzle that somehow sounded judgmental. * * * * * * * * * * After two hours of crawling through blistering heat and uncooperative physics, they reached the base of the old observation station. Above them, a rickety spiral staircase led to the surface hatch. “Just a hundred meters to freedom,” said Mina. The extraordinary expedition of an erupting mind “Or to death by collapsing staircase,” Briggs mut- tered. “Fifty-fifty odds.” Grimsworth pointed dramatically upward. “Sci- ence demands we climb!” Science, evidently, had not considered Hugo’s fit- ness level. By the time they were halfway up, he was wheezing like an asthmatic walrus. Emil, below him, grumbled, “If he passes out, I’m using him as a sled.” Mina was about to retort when the volcano made its final decision. * * * * * * * * * * The world roared. The chamber below erupted in a storm of fire and molten gas. The staircase shud- dered, bolts snapping one by one. “Move!” screamed Mina. “Move or we’re toast!” Grimsworth lunged for the hatch, fingers bleeding as he twisted the wheel. The door jammed. “Briggs!” Ana Salinas The engineer shoved past, kicked the lever, and shouted, “Hit it together!” They slammed it open. A burst of ash-laden air nearly knocked them backward, but sunlight, sweet, blinding sunlight, streamed in. They scrambled through, collapsing on blackened rock just as the observation tower below crumpled into molten oblivion. Silence followed, broken only by Grimsworth’s ragged laugh. “We... we made it,” he gasped. Mina looked around. The crater rim stretched out in jagged ruin. Smoke rose from every direction. Emil, lying on his back, groaned, “I’d kill for that sandwich.” Briggs squinted at the horizon. “You might not need to. Look.” From behind a cracked ridge, a metal structure jut- ted out, an old supply depot, miraculously intact. “Food,” whispered Emil, eyes wide. “Glorious, geo- logical food .” The extraordinary expedition of an erupting mind Then the ground trembled again, just slightly, just enough to remind them. Grimsworth turned to Mina, the faintest of smiles on his soot-black face. “Tell me,” he said, “does the mountain ever really stop erupting?” She exhaled, eyes fixed on the shaking earth. “No,” she said. “It just pauses... to reload.” The volcano growled. And the scientists, covered in ash and absurd hope, began to run again. * * * * * * * * * * The volcano was not finished. To be fair, volcanoes rarely are. They are the uni- verse’s way of saying, “I think I’ll remodel this entire ecosystem today.” Our five scientists, sooty, singed, and slightly de- ranged, staggered toward the ridge like overcooked explorers emerging from a bad myth. “Alright,” gasped Dr. Mina Choudhary, “we’re out. We’re alive. Let’s... let’s just enjoy that for a...” Ana Salinas WHUMPH. A column of fire shot into the air behind them. Pebbles rained down like applause from hell. Dr. Hugo Grimsworth brushed ash from his mous- tache. “I see the volcano objects to celebrations.” Professor Briggs stared at the horizon, frowning. “That depot’s not just a food store,” he said. “It’s the old geothermal relay. If it blows, we’ll have an entire mountain’s worth of lava chasing us uphill.” “Excellent,” said Emil Rousseau. “I always wanted to die doing cardio.” * * * * * * * * * * They trudged toward the depot, a corrugated metal building clinging to the slope like an afterthought. The sky was bruised orange; the air, hot enough to toast ambition. Inside, the place was half-collapsed but still stand- ing, a miracle in sheet metal form. Dr. Mina kicked open a crate. “Water packets, canned beans, and...” she lifted something trium- phantly, “...emergency chocolate.” The extraordinary expedition of an erupting mind Emil fell to his knees. “We’re saved!” Grimsworth, meanwhile, examined a control pan- el on the far wall. “This relay regulates the magma flow beneath the caldera. If we could vent it safely...” Briggs interrupted. “If we could vent it safely, we wouldn’t be here. But yes, let’s pretend we’re a team of heroic scientists instead of idiots in lab coats.” Mina rolled her eyes. “We are idiots in lab coats.” “Ah,” said Briggs, “then all is as it should be.” * * * * * * * * * * They found the relay’s main console, an antique of dials, levers, and the sort of switches labelled ‘Do Not Touch Under Any Circumstances.’ Grimsworth hovered his hand over one. “Hugo,” said Mina, warningly. He hesitated. “It’s possible that if I...” Briggs grabbed his wrist. “It’s also possible that if you don’t, we live another five minutes. Let’s enjoy the mystery.” Ana Salinas Emil, rummaging through a drawer, found a flare gun and aimed it at nothing in particular. “Maybe we can signal a rescue?” Mina sighed. “Who exactly, Emil? The magma fair- ies?” “Worth a shot,” he said, and fired it through a hole in the roof. The flare arced into the sky... then immediately curved downward, striking a nearby boulder. The ex- plosion lit up the mountainside like a birthday can- dle for the apocalypse. Everyone froze. Finally, Briggs muttered, “Brilliant. You just sent the volcano an RSVP.” * * * * * * * * * * The ground bucked violently. A new fissure split the slope, glowing from within. Lava began to ooze upward like a beast’s tongue tasting freedom. Mina snapped into command mode. “Forget the vent system. We run north, ridge path, toward the chopper station!” The extraordinary expedition of an erupting mind “But the chopper pad’s three kilometres away!” Emil cried. “Then start enjoying jogging, Emil!” The team bolted, sprinting along a trail that was rapidly ceasing to exist. Rocks cascaded behind them; ash filled the air like black snow. Grimsworth stumbled but kept going. “This... this will make an extraordinary paper,” he gasped. “If we survive.” “Title it ‘Running for Our Lives: A Practical Study,’ ” said Mina. “Subtitle: Why Volcanoes Don’t Appreciate Peer Re- view, ” Briggs added. * * * * * * * * * * They reached the old chopper pad, a circular plat- form clinging to the edge of a cliff, its single helicop- ter a fossil of Cold War engineering. Briggs yanked open the door, coughing. “Fuel tank’s intact! If the starter works, we might—” The mountain chose that moment to belch a river of molten rock directly toward them. Ana Salinas “No time!” Mina shouted. “Everyone aboard!” Grimsworth threw himself into the pilot’s seat. “I’ve read the manual!” “You’ve what? ” Mina screamed. “...in French!” The helicopter wheezed, sputtered, and groaned. Briggs slapped the side panel. “Come on, darling! One last miracle!” The rotors turned once. Twice. Then caught, whin- ing like an indignant banshee. “Lift off!” shouted Mina. The helicopter lurched upward, just as the lava surged beneath them, swallowing the pad in a burst of molten fury. They rose through the ash storm, coughing, laugh- ing, and possibly weeping. * * * * * * * * * * As they gained altitude, the crater below erupted fully, an orange inferno swallowing steel and stone. The extraordinary expedition of an erupting mind It was beautiful in the way death sometimes is, abso- lute, uncompromising, magnificent. Mina gazed down through the glass floor. “All our data,” she murmured. “Twelve years of research... gone.” Grimsworth, eyes bright, smiled. “Then we start again. Science burns, yes—but it also rebuilds. ” Briggs smirked. “That’s poetic for a man who near- ly blew us up twice.” Emil, chewing on a chocolate bar, nodded. “I say we publish anyway. Title it ‘The Volcano That Tried to Eat Us.’ ” Mina laughed despite herself. “Subtitle?” He grinned. “ A Comprehensive Study in Panic and Pastrami. ” * * * * * * * * * * They landed three hours later on a blackened coast, exhausted but alive. Behind them, Mount Furore rumbled one last time, then quieted, a sleeping mon- ster satisfied for now. Grimsworth stood on the sand, breathing deeply. “Well,” he said. “That concludes our field study.” Ana Salinas Mina gave him a look. “You’re insane.” “Yes,” he said cheerfully. “But now I have firsthand experience. ” Briggs slumped against the helicopter. “I’m never stepping near another volcano.” Emil held up a new sandwich he’d miraculously found in his coat pocket. “Anyone?” Mina groaned. “How... how did you even...?” He shrugged. “Fieldwork demands preparation.” They laughed then, real laughter, ragged and alive, echoing across the shore. The volcano smoked faintly in the distance, as if sulking that it hadn’t quite man- aged to kill them. And somewhere deep below, in the fiery heart of Mount Furore, the magma shifted and sighed—be- cause even mountains, it seemed, could appreciate a good scientific farce. END