What Is The Main Plot Of 'Driftglass' In One Sentence?

'Driftglass' follows a genetically modified aquanaut named Cal who navigates the treacherous underwater ruins of Earth's flooded cities while confronting the moral dilemmas of human augmentation and corporate exploitation.

I've always been drawn to stories that explore humanity's relationship with technology, and this one hits hard. Cal's journey isn't just about survival—it's about rediscovering what makes us human in a world where bodies can be remade like machines. The underwater setting adds this eerie beauty to every scene, like when Cal describes schools of fish moving through drowned skyscrapers. What really stuck with me was how the story handles loss—not just of land, but of the very concept of being 'natural'. The corporations controlling the augmentation tech treat people like disposable tools, and Cal's struggle against that system feels painfully relevant today.

'Driftglass' centers on an augmented deep-sea worker uncovering corporate crimes in Earth's submerged cities while grappling with the physical and psychological toll of his modifications.

This story wrecked me in the best way possible. It's not your typical sci-fi adventure—it's a raw, intimate look at how technology changes us from the inside out. Cal's metallic limbs and gills aren't just cool gadgets; they represent this irreversible step away from humanity. The plot unfolds like a slow dive into darkness, with each discovery about the corporations' crimes hitting harder than the ocean pressure.

The underwater worldbuilding is phenomenal. Delany doesn't just describe settings—he makes you feel the weight of the water, the silence of the abyss, the way light fractures through ruined buildings. There's this one scene where Cal finds a child's toy half-buried in silt that captures the whole theme of irreversible loss. What makes the story special is how it balances action with introspection. Cal's fights against corporate enforcers are intense, but the real tension comes from his internal struggle—can someone rebuilt like a machine still claim to be human?

I keep coming back to how the story handles consent and autonomy. The corporations treat modified humans like property, and Cal's journey is ultimately about reclaiming ownership of his own body. It's shocking how much this 1967 story predicts modern debates about tech ethics. The ending leaves you haunted in that way only the best sci-fi can—not with easy answers, but with questions that ripple through your mind long after reading.

'Driftglass' paints a haunting portrait of a cyborg diver's life among the ruins of civilization beneath the sea, where every salvage mission becomes a meditation on what was lost.

What makes this story unforgettable is its poetic brutality. Cal isn't some shiny superhero—his modifications are crude, painful reminders of how humanity tried to adapt to disaster. The plot moves like the tides, alternating between moments of action and profound stillness. When Cal explores those drowned cities, it's not just about finding artifacts; it's about confronting ghosts of the old world.

The corporate conspiracy elements add urgency, but the heart of the story lies in Cal's relationships with other modified humans. There's this unspoken understanding between them that normal people will never see them as fully human anymore. The scene where Cal meets another aquanaut whose modifications have started rejecting their body still gives me chills. Delany uses the ocean as this perfect metaphor—what's beautiful on the surface hides crushing pressures and dangerous currents underneath. The story's power comes from how it makes you feel both the wonder and terror of transformation.