Shrugging, Harold threw up his arms again, the momentum forcing his body underwater.

The muffled sort of deafness of underwater enveloped him, and he opened his eyes, seeking Scotty.

The world was turquiose, and a thousand other muted colors besides. It looked alien in the way all oceans did; he boggled that this one actually was. He swam surreptitiously in Scotty's direction, a little off-balance by that realization.

He caught Scotty's eye across the void and waved dumbly.