The constable of the Aquatic race was a surly sort. I attempted the ritual body movements of greeting that are common to various races of the deep (going back all the way to the days of the Mermaid Imperium), but this fellow merely hissed and splayed its gills, shooting out such a tremendous burst of bubbles I had no doubt he was either uninterested in or ignorant of any such forms of communication.

Administering its trident-shaped electric pain stick liberally, he herded me in the direction of the pink and green lights. I trudged on in my heavy boots and suit, dragging my air hose along, and wondered how we might reconcile this obvious misunderstanding.

As we reached the brightly lit part of the city, I beheld a tremendous midway, a carnival of games and tents, filled with students from the school! How wonderful the school's social outreach was already at work! And here were groups of students being herded like schools of fish down the concourses and into special tanks at the edge of the midway.

The constable drove me towards another of their species, an individual of high rank by the looks of its gaudy uniform and sitting on a tall chair, like a lifeguard. A few of its men at arms stood at the base of its chair, which was at the entrance to a silo filled with large bubbles. Over the open entryway were words in their own idiosyncratic writing system, followed by the words "Uncle Obed’s Breath Corral" in a fanciful gay script.

The Aquatic captain in the chair unleashed a fierce barking of clicks and squeals, and once again I attempted the Universal Aquanatics Dance of Gracious Supplication, this time with even more dramatic embellishment. However, upon leaping into the first pirouette, the men at arms all drew their tridents at once!

"Hear hear, my good creatures! There's no need for such roughhousing!"

But the tridents had already become entangled with my precious air hose, like forks in a plate of spaghetti. I leapt up to try and help, and came down with a heavy boot upon a flipper of one of the men at arms, causing him to flail about and strike another with its trident, while a third tried to intercede with its trident, resulting of the toppling of the very tall chair and its highly decorated occupant directly into the flimsy walls of the silo. It appeared to be merely made of netting, and in all the jostling and tomfoolery it had come quite loose. And with my air hose tangled up in it to boot!

"Oh, my. Terribly sorry about all this! I'm sure the Arcane Aquanatics Institute will be happy to pay for any damages!"

And the great sack of bubbles, my airhose, the very tall chair, and myself, all began to rise...

And then I came to, getting fished out of the reflecting pool by a lifeguard with a long stick. Along with half the summer session, it looked like.

Naturally, we all wanted to go back immediately. And for a minute I had a panic attack about breathing air! Like I had forgotten how. But the school admins seem pretty firm about the Reflecting Pool being off limits. For now at least.

Last I knew, those Aquatic swim teachers were holding my breath--holding all our breaths--and for as long as we liked, we frolicked in their underwater carnival, played their games, swam in schools, tussled and squirmed in feeding frenzies over chum... and dreamed of the Spires of KrkKrk in the twilight depths... I guess they'll never take THAT away from me.

Somehow my breath found me, and brought me back to the surface. But oh how I long to return...

Oh I should have shared this before! Here’s a picture of my mom, Psyhigh class of ‘99, posing by a “DANGER! NO SWIMMING ALLOWED!” sign in front of the Reflecting Pool. She was always hamming it up!