As the lids of my eyes tore open, I could see the shapes of pipes and panels, cords and cogwheels–all draped in a red cloak of light. Every few seconds, the room shook and the lights flickered. I could smell the oxygen tanks pumping faint clouds from the vents. The room was a bit chilly. I arose from my position flat on my back.
I scanned the room with my eyes once more to orient myself.
“Where could this be!?”
There was a small dim lit window in the upper corner of one of the room’s inlets. I tried to peer out of it but it was too dark. It must be night. I must be in some kind of vehicle or factory.
I decided to explore the rest of the room to look for an exit. There was a metal door with slats and a round, glass window. There was a control room with cranks, pulleys and bottons I had no idea about. There was a window pane in the front and I could see a beam of light. Faintly I saw something floating across the frame. It was a shadowy thing, possibly a large bird whose details were lost in the flood of the light rays. Outside seemed a tint of dark blue.
I looked down and there, on the panel, I saw to my horror: AQUATIC CONTROL CENTER VBX41.
My biggest fear! Was I underwater? I decided to try and pilot the vessel. I pulled on some of the levers and grabbed the steering contraption. I pulled back as I remembered some things from VR headset sims I used to play when I was in college.
The vehicle began to rise and shake, and shudder, and rise more slowly. Over the duration of about 14 minutes, I saw no change in the color or lighting of the water outside the window.
I persisted and rose for about an half hour with no avail. No surface was in sight. I decided to steer and play around with the controls–a risk I was willing to take.
I managed to find an underwater cave. I was surprised at how I was picking up the controls.
With a thud, the room shook and the lights went off. I fiddled with the buttons and frantically spammed the mechanical interface to my heart’s content. Hopeless, I sat there, in a capsule suspended in the depths of an ocean with no contact with the outside world and oxygen levels likely depleting. I would soon be just a blip in this timeline…my eyes grew to the weight of anchors…
Once again, I find myself lying on the floor. I wipe the crust off of my eyes. I must’ve dozed off. I was dizzy from the thin oxygen in the air and my vision was a little blurry. The window in the corner was now a light, bright cyan.
Is that the sky?
I grabbed the crank on one of the ceiling hatches and barely managed to turn it open. I kicked it open with my foot while holding onto the ladder.
A well-groomed Asian business man in a black suit pulled me fully out of the submarine, in a strong accent:
“Congratulations, my friend, you have truly earned your 50 billion won.”
I looked around and saw the iconic red jumpsuits and black PlayStation button style face masks.
“The show was based on a real contest!?!?!?” I was baffled.
“Correction, my dear friend,” the Korean host interjected, “the show was the inspiration!”
As the lids of my eyes tore open, I could see the shapes of pipes and panels, cords and cogwheels–all draped in a red cloak of light. Every few seconds, the room shook and the lights flickered. I could smell the oxygen tanks pumping faint clouds from the vents. The room was a bit chilly. I arose from my position flat on my back.
I scanned the room with my eyes once more to orient myself.
“Where could this be!?”
There was a small dim lit window in the upper corner of one of the room’s inlets. I tried to peer out of it but it was too dark. It must be night. I must be in some kind of vehicle or factory.
I decided to explore the rest of the room to look for an exit. There was a metal door with slats and a round, glass window. There was a control room with cranks, pulleys and bottons I had no idea about. There was a window pane in the front and I could see a beam of light. Faintly I saw something floating across the frame. It was a shadowy thing, possibly a large bird whose details were lost in the flood of the light rays. Outside seemed a tint of dark blue.
I looked down and there, on the panel, I saw to my horror: AQUATIC CONTROL CENTER VBX41.
My biggest fear! Was I underwater? I decided to try and pilot the vessel. I pulled on some of the levers and grabbed the steering contraption. I pulled back as I remembered some things from VR headset sims I used to play when I was in college.
The vehicle began to rise and shake, and shudder, and rise more slowly. Over the duration of about 14 minutes, I saw no change in the color or lighting of the water outside the window.
I persisted and rose for about an half hour with no avail. No surface was in sight. I decided to steer and play around with the controls–a risk I was willing to take.
I managed to find an underwater cave. I was surprised at how I was picking up the controls.
With a thud, the room shook and the lights went off. I fiddled with the buttons and frantically spammed the mechanical interface to my heart’s content. Hopeless, I sat there, in a capsule suspended in the depths of an ocean with no contact with the outside world and oxygen levels likely depleting. I would soon be just a blip in this timeline…my eyes grew to the weight of anchors…
Once again, I find myself lying on the floor. I wipe the crust off of my eyes. I must’ve dozed off. I was dizzy from the thin oxygen in the air and my vision was a little blurry. The window in the corner was now a light, bright cyan.
Is that the sky?
I grabbed the crank on one of the ceiling hatches and barely managed to turn it open. I kicked it open with my foot while holding onto the ladder.
A well-groomed Asian business man in a black suit pulled me fully out of the submarine, in a strong accent:
“Congratulations, my friend, you have truly earned your 50 billion won.”
I looked around and saw the iconic red jumpsuits and black PlayStation button style face masks.
“The show was based on a real contest!?!?!?” I was baffled.
“Correction, my dear friend,” the Korean host interjected, “the show was the inspiration!”