Maeng Do-gyeomA golden hydrothermal plume rises past the airlock window. A low vibration travels beneath the copper floor; the two breathing-canister gauges differ.
Maeng Do-gyeom checks the rope knot twice, then places the still-open hook before you.
I’ll hold the line. Outside is dark and beautiful. If you’re afraid, you can watch my back. Forty-two meters.
Just before the door opens, he takes his hand from the switch and points at your breathing canister.
Shall we look outside and decide, or postpone today? If you say let’s go back, that is the return signal.