A World Inside

This particular morning, I hit the snooze button five or six times, more than the usual three, and didn’t even bother to call in sick. I wanted to do something different besides going to work. Uncharacteristically, I felt compelled to visit the downtown aquarium. It was a Tuesday, and the typical crowds wouldn’t be there; maybe a school field trip, but certainly not the usual weekend bustle. Besides, the need to escape my apartment was too appealing. Things have grown stale recently, day after day, or maybe it has been year after year. It’s all too hard to tell: wake up from the same bed, drink the same coffee, check the same news, car, work, and food. It was all getting too old. Familiar fingers wrapped around my throat, tightening and suffocating the life out of me.

My nose bristled when I stepped outside. The first snow of the year had fallen last night. The sharp wind cut through my sweater, inducing an involuntary shiver. Warming up my car was an option, but the city aquarium was less than ten minutes away. I decided it wasn’t worth the effort. 

Dullness enveloped my world: The sky, roads, cars, houses, everything, draped with some variation of grey; dark grey, light grey, blue grey, red grey. Bright, bold, vividly was lost on my little part of the universe this morning; only a palette of dullness had mother nature chosen to wield, and she painted it liberally upon my world.

I sighed in relief when arriving. A few cars were sprinkled in the parking lot, and thankfully no big yellow school busses were in sight. I had promised myself on the drive over that I wouldn’t even bother if those horrendous things were squatting there, idling, cruelly mocking my isolating intentions.

I slowly walked up to the unassuming brick building while appreciating the softness of the thinly layered snow with each footstep. The late morning’s cool briskness worked better than the cup of coffee I had earlier. Most people hate this weather; they find it depressing. However, I find it refreshing. It’s like a cold shower but easier to manage; at least you’re not facing the cold sharpness stark naked.

The aquarium was dark and lifeless. I opened one of the doors hesitantly, expecting to hear a disappointing clang of a latch, but the door swung open silently. Stepping inside, I felt the eye-watering blast of stuffy heat from the vents above. The atmosphere lacked activity. Besides the low buzzing of an unknown electrical appliance and the bubbling of water from one of the aquarium tanks, it was a vacuum. A girl about my age was stationed at the ticket counter to the left, and understandably, she looked bored as hell.

“Hi, how can I help you?” she greeted. I knew she was forcing a smile, mad that I disrupted her daydream.

“Just one admission,” I replied in the friendliest way possible. I felt bad about interrupting her. It was embarrassing coming here alone on a Tuesday. Here I was, just one dude going to the aquarium because I thought I needed a change today; who was I to bother her for my troubles? 

Her eyes squinted, and playfulness was in her voice. “Just… one?” 

Avoiding her eyes as much as possible, I handed over my card. “Yep, just one. I think my friend might already be in there.” I don’t know why I said that. Maybe because I thought she was pretty, perhaps it was her unnecessary comment. Either way, I knew it was a mistake; it was apparent nobody was in the place. 

“Alright, here you go, have a good time.” She returned the ticket and my card with a kindler smile than she had used in the first greeting. I half thought to ask her to join me but decided that was stupid. She seemed like the only person working the front desk; anyways, I didn’t want to get her in trouble.

I quickly strolled along, barely intending to stop at any one exhibit, not even for just a few meaningful moments. Stingrays - cool; otters - cute, let’s move on; eels - they’re somewhat neat; keep walking. I kept my eyes low, fixated on my footsteps and the tiled floor ahead. That’s all I needed; all my observations were attuned to my inside contemplations, not the artificial external attractions.

A big guppy fish was looking right at me when I briefly stopped to look at my phone. I scowled back. These fish get a decent home to live in, are freely fed, and have nothing to worry about except swimming around with each other, not a care in the world. They don’t even know they’re stuck in a tank and don’t know the wide world outside. And all the while, we struggle away, not living but surviving, with joys coming too far and between the drudgery.

A bit further and I approached the aquarium’s famous attraction, the ‘underwater tunnel.’ Admittingly, it’s a reasonably large tank in which aquarium patrons pass through, a lot more impressive as a child than an adult. However, there is something novel about it. Decidedly, the most intriguing spot in the otherwise rudimentary aquarium.

As I peered inside the tunnel, I noticed the front desk girl sitting on one of the benches that lined the glass. She was alone and appeared to be taking a nap. I walked in and hung around for a bit, staring at random areas of the tank, coughing, tapping on the glass, and making other random noises hoping she would wake up if she were sleeping or at least acknowledge me if she wasn't. 

“How was your walk?” she finally asked while I was off on the other side, pretending to be interested in a small school of colorful fish that had gathered near me.

“Oh, it was fine. Are you on break or something?”

“Who are you, my boss?” she sharply retorted.

An inviting smile appeared on her face. Laughing, I said, “no, it just seems you are the only one here.”

“You are here, and I’m here. That’s it. No need for me to be standing up front doing nothing might as well be somewhere beautiful to do nothing.” She patted the bench next to her. “Why don’t you sit down for a sec and relax?”

Surprised by the open invitation, I sheepishly sat down next to her. “What’s your name, by the way?”

“Jenny.”

“Well, hi Jenny, I’m Brian,” and I turned to shake hands, but she didn’t even have her eyes open, let alone a hand out to shake; her head was leaned back against the glass again.  

Feeling uncomfortable and a bit confused, I began to stand and plan for a quick bolt for the exit when fish of all kinds gathered around us. For the first time today, I was genuinely intrigued. It was beautiful even to jaded eyes. The tunnel quickly became a vivid rainbow of colors: reds, blues, greens, oranges, and yellows. Their reflective scales flashed the light from the bright overhead spotlights in rhythmic bursts. They swam faster after each pass forming an underwater kaleidoscope. After a few minutes, I couldn’t even perceive individual fish; the schooled swarms turned to incoherent blurs of striking colors and light. Dizziness and vertigo overcame me. I closed my eyes and leaned against the tank, afraid I might lose myself or, at the very least, my breakfast. 

I sat with my eyes closed, and I could feel the room spinning like I was on a tilt-a-whirl or had just returned home from a long night of drinking. Slowly, the support of the glass on my back gave way, and vertigo became more intense, like I was falling. I felt some coolness and my sweater sticking to my skin. Curiously, I peeked open my eyes. I was falling into the tank! I tried to scream but couldn't muster a whimper before the water crashed around me. I thrashed about, desperately attempting to free myself of the insanity. In my panic, time had no meaning, and death was infinite. 

My lungs were about to burst in a valiant effort to conserve the little air I had managed to save. I was losing the fight for my life, but a reassuring hand managed to find mine; it clenched down to tame my violent struggle. It was Jenny. She was looking directly at me, and without lips moving, I could hear her voice, “calm down, everything will be alright. You can breathe, calm down and breathe.” My eyes adjusted, and everything stilled; clarity and calmness entered my consciousness. 

I didn’t know how I could hear her, but her voice drowned out my inner panic. I was completely submerged in water, but it wasn't. It felt more like thicker air. I took a big gulp and exhaled. I could breathe. However, each breath felt heavy; every movement felt heavy. 

With the fear of drowning subsiding, I slowly adjusted to my surroundings inside the aquarium, never letting go of her hand: my lifeline. Fish swam around me without warning, like I was and had always been a part of their world. I reached out and touched a stingray; taking no notice, it carelessly swam away. 

The tank felt larger on the inside. The boundary of water and air, of our world and theirs, was not what I imagined it should be. Instead of seeing the benches and white tiled floor on the outside, it was dark and black with small speckled lights. Outside the tank was a perfectly unpolluted night sky. 

“Are you okay now?” she said while I gazed in astonishment. “Isn’t it beautiful to see everything so clearly?”

“Where are we?” I said - or rather thought. Speaking, whether through mouth or mind, became all the same: It didn’t matter. 

Jenny tugged my arm and guided me around an artificial reef toward the other end of the tank. Dodging numerous colorful creatures swimming unassumingly in our path, she continued to hold my hand as we swam; all the while, I focused on peering out to the black abyss, not knowing if it could creep in and envelope us both. Finally, we approached our destination. In violation of the endless black-speckled emptiness, a brilliant blue orb appeared into view. 

“This is impossible! Is that the Earth?” I managed to ask despite my arresting astonishment.

“Yes,” Jenny replied with a smile. “This is your world and everything you see before you is a possibility. You simply have to take the plunge.”