My Work, On Being Human

Seven Centimeters Below The Surface

The thought of the bubble brought her to the fact that the very limited amount of air in the room was very soon going to be gone. Now floating in the middle of the room, she reached up to see how much breathable space was left. Disheartened to find she had not even a forearm’s length left, she made her decision. She would swim, she had to swim. She had to try.

Recalling her meditation classes, she closed her eyes and slowly breathed, imagining her heart into a slower pace. As the non-liquid part of the room grew smaller and smaller, she drew in a deep, calm breath, and ducked her head beneath the water. Some red emergency lights had come on at some point, she didn’t remember when that had happened, but was grateful for the fact that she had at least a modicum of illumination to assist her finding the door. She turned the knob and the door opened surprisingly easily now that the pressure had equalized. There didn’t seem to be as strong a current as she had expected. The torrent from before had stabilized now that the entire hallway was submerged. She decided to swim against what little current was left, thinking it might lead her to wherever the water had been coming in.

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