Speaking in Bubbles
It was hard, getting drowned the first time.
The second, not so much.
His implants acted like gills, filtering oxygen from the water and pumping it straight into his bloodstream. But he had to fight the instinct every time.
He had to drown, every time.
Willingly.
It was one of the few jobs Clytos could do. He wasn’t qualified for anything. Grunts like him just had menial labour to do these days, and menial labour meant heavy body mods for tasks such as this.
He was building the new oil drilling platforms in the Aegean sea. The oil had been located decades ago, but instead of Greece actually drilling a hole for it and putting it to use, they waited till their loans defaulted and sold it off for peanuts to foreign interests. As in, corps.
So, a corp now owned the
