You do it boring.

Reed talks Paz through the lock like a recipe: equalize the little space, never the sea; open the door that sees 1-atm; step into water that is a hallway, not a mountain; don’t rush the last hatch. You hold Minnow still so the hallway doesn’t become a ride.

A crate of vent samples already sits in Sprat’s basket: sealed tubes, labels in Paz’s tiny stars. Science is a passenger if you let it be.

Vargas: “Checklist out loud. Tanks, trim, sonar watch, lock, then samples. If you skip the talk because you already ‘found them,’ the last meter gets to write the ending.”

TIDE offers the list without being asked. TIDE is annoying that way, which is to say kind.

Paz’s joke dies as the real work starts. That is respect.

You can say the list. You can tell yourself finding was the whole sport.