For those looking to engage with this niche, whether as a creator or consumer, consider the following:
The pressure gauge on Dr. Aris Thorne’s wrist read 39.1 bar. That was the number—the lethal crush depth for a human body without a hard-suit. One more tick, and his lungs would collapse into two wet fists. His bones would powder. His blood would turn to seawater.
The dome’s outer hull vented with a sound like the planet exhaling. Pressure dropped. Water turned to mist. Bodies, some moving, some not, floated in a slow ballet.