The Man Who Walks On The Sea Floor

A man sinks to the floor of the ocean. He is unable to stop himself, he is sinking uncontrollably. On his way down he can only see the surface of the water from below. The shiny white turns gradually blue, and then it takes a darker shade right when the man stops abruptly. He has now reached the floor of the ocean.

He lies on the floor for a while, almost as if waiting for the dust to settle. The Man has resigned his emotions. He does not know how to feel about dying and thinks that if he did then he'd probably get anxious or nervous about it. It's quite difficult though when the surface is right there and you know you can't go back up and reach it. You can't help yourself but think about the end. So he gets up and takes a look around. He is for a moment puzzled. How has he not been crushed by the weight? Shouldn't he been pulverized by now due to all the literal water? He is unable to understand but refrains from paying too much heed. He is after all dying, and what's now versus a little while later really. 

The man dares to look up again, and to him the surface only exists to remind him of his death. How he is going to die very soon, as he can't reach the surface. Can he really not reach the surface? It seems so far away and that would be a lot of swimming he'd have to do upward to get there really. Is it even possible? The man without making any attempt decides that it is in fact not possible. And simply stares at the surface that reminds him so much of death. Maybe I shouldn't look up, he thinks, maybe then I'll be safe. So he goes about his business, on the ocean floor, walking around, waiting to run out of breath.

As he walks around he thinks about things he would be doing right about now, his routines. Would he be sitting at his desk right now. Working? Under all this water pressure? He thinks to himself, absolutely not. Did he have chores? Maybe he should start with some chores about the house, they're easier done on the bottom of the ocean than anything your manager wants you to do surely. So he thinks about folding his clothes, as he imagines himself folding his clothes, he is able to actually see himself doing it. He is folding his clothes at the bottom of the ocean. What else can he do, he thinks. Maybe he really can finish up some work. So he goes to his desk, takes a seat, and finishes up some work. Wow, he thinks to himself. He really can get some work done on the ocean floor. Who knew, he thinks, all pleased with himself as he looks up, forgetting he was not supposed to. This time however, he does not think about death.

Instead, he thinks about The Man On The Surface. The Man he once was, above the ocean, on land, not dying. How does that feel he wondered? Does The Man On The Surface think about The Man On The Ocean Floor? Does he ever wonder what would happen to him if he ended up there? Not often enough he decides, it should be a decree. All Men On The Surface must now think of All Men On The Floor. Why he thinks and he embarks on this thought's train journey. What would that bring? Why should Surface Men think of Floor Men? How powerful a feeling it must be, he thinks, to know that you are on the surface and you are not dying. What a powerful feeling indeed. He thinks he could take over the world if he could feel like that again. Alas, he is but a man on the floor of the ocean.

How long has it been he wonders, how much breath does he have left? It feels like it has been hours, but it also feels like days. Could it really have been weeks or has it been only minutes. The Man On The Ocean Floor doesn't know how long it has been and he doesn't know how much longer he has got. But he does know a few things for sure, that it would be great to have been a Surface Man and swimming to the Surface now is impossible.