Chapter 14X: Scuba (muff) Diving

Leavesden Studios, UK. July 2004.

Scuba diving was my jam.

My intention with that statement was both that I loved it - I’d been PADI certified in the before times - and also that my current underwater escapade had me stuck in a less than ideal situation.

My lungs burned. I’d run out of usable oxygen, and in response exhaled a storm of bubbles.

Before I could even ask for it, an octopus was shoved into my mouth.

With practised calm, I pressed the tip of my tongue to the roof of my mouth. I pushed the button on the back of the regulator, sending a puff of air into my mouth. Fully cleared, I took a deep breath and gave the ok sign as I resumed breathing.

Already I could feel the compressed air drying my throat out. Coupled with the prickly gill prosthetics I’d spent an hour and a half getting pasted on me in the morning, I was in itch city.

You ever get a tickle on the top of your nose while your hands were full? Imagine that all around and inside your neck.

I glanced down at my feet and saw the fleshy flippers wobbling in the water. Regular flippers were bad enough. It didn’t matter how graceful I was under the surface, but the moment I stepped out, I knew I’d be waddling more than a pregnant penguin.

The regulator rumbled as I breathed. Another cloud of bubbles sprung into existence; immediately, a set of hands swatted the burbling disturbance away.

Alongside my air source was the person whose dedicated job it was to keep the bubbles out of my face.

The floor was only a metre deeper than my toes, but I had a five metre thick ceiling of two million litres of water pressing down on me.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Another two divers, whose job it was to tug and pull at me to simulate the grindylows, idly held on to my ankles.

The last member of our league of extraordinary gentlemen was the underwater cameraman. He wasn’t alone in his job, though, as the other set of cameras and production staff were nice and dry behind the expansive glass barricade.

I couldn’t quite see through my aquarium, but it looked like Alfonso had zoomed into the gills on my neck to evaluate and determine his satisfaction with FX.

Well acquainted with his process by now, I knew he’d take his time.

We weren’t filming the actual scenes yet. None of my co-stars would join me for a few more weeks until they finished building the full arena.

These were all just screen tests to make sure our shots would look good.

I turned my attention to the rest of the set - not that there was all that much to look at. The payoff of scuba was submersion in an alien world. All I got to see here for a hundred metres across was a blank blue wall with fluorescent lighting for superimposed CGI.

Across the pool was my body double, Ricky Stirling, working with the stunt coordinator to plan out the full route I’d take as Harry and setting the appropriate markers.

The muffled thump of knocking on glass rippled along my ear.

Alfonso had approached, stuck out his finger and twirled his wrist in that familiar motion that either meant ‘go again,’ or ‘you’re crazy.’

Both applied to me.

Taking one last deep breath, I handed my octopus back to my living oxygen tank. The bubble assistant karate chopped her way out of frame and the two sea monkeys resumed their tug of war.

With the way I floundered around, this pool now had full authority to be called an ocean.

I’d dived eyes closed, head first into my work these last few years, and my list of extracurriculars was only growing. I understood I had an obsessive side, but it didn't mean I couldn't be playful.

As the season reached the same sweltering peak my libido had, I decided to do something to relieve it.

I hijacked the pool for my own selfish and venal purposes. That the rest of the teens were fully on board only served to convince me further.

I pulled aside the manager of the catering service and handed him a roll of 50s. “I want you to go out and get a barbecue organised, virgin pina coladas, and see if you can ask the prop guys to source some pool toys.” Most any other teen would have been told to sod off; some days it was very good to be the big shot.

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