A Step on the Sea Floor

The visor sealed tight, and a faint hum filled the air. I looked down at the pale surface beneath my flippers. My right leg responded when I tested it—one quiet click, then a small shift forward. Right in front of me rested the weathered wooden beam of the old wreck, coated in seaweed. I reached out carefully and tapped the wood with one curved hand. Solid. Dry, yet feeling deeply submerged. Up above, the orange submersible hovered motionless. The waters seem calm for now.