The Greatest Showman #1113 – Narrow Escape

The spacesuit is a cumbersome, integrated piece of equipment.

It is divided into four parts: a pair of trousers with shoes attached, a jacket that fits like a pullover without zippers or buttons, a helmet that attaches securely to the jacket, and a pair of gloves tightly connected to the sleeves of the jacket.

At first, his mind was blank, consumed by panic. He struggled desperately. But as he calmed down, he realized the spacesuit was far bulkier than he'd anticipated, hindering any real movement. The cloth bag tied outside the suit wasn't completely taut, but instead held about 70-80% tension.

Even in this state, freeing himself from the restraints seemed impossible.

He quickly discovered that the friction and pain on his wrists and ankles were more illusions caused by the pressure and gravity acting on his muscles. In truth, the inside of the suit was soft and comfortable, not injuring his skin or muscles, and his arms could move freely within the suit.

The straps had left some space, and the suit itself had enough room for his arms and feet to move more than he expected. But while his feet were hopelessly trapped, his hands still had a chance.

He began attempting to pull his arms out of the spacesuit, inch by inch. But each time, his shoulders and elbows hit a wall, unable to move beyond a few inches. The suit restricted every attempt, leaving him locked in place.

He adjusted his position, tried again, and failed. Then again. And again. Every attempt ended in failure.

Frustration built with each passing moment, until he lost count of how many times he'd tried and failed. Trapped in an endless loop, he fought with himself. His anger boiled over.

"Ah!" he roared, clenching his fists, his muscles tightening, his entire body surging with rage. In that moment of pure, unrestrained emotion, his wrist hit a hard buckle. Through the fabric, he felt a distinct bulge. A realization hit him: this was the button that connected the sleeve to the glove.

Typically, this button would need to be rotated from the outside. But could it be turned from the inside? He couldn't be sure, but the idea intrigued him.

Shifting his focus, he concentrated on the metal buckle, maneuvering his wrist toward it. Each movement felt futile, every bit of friction seemed meaningless. His hand clenched, his muscles stretched, pushing his exhausted body to keep going.

Finally, his wrist brushed against the buckle. He knew it was there. The sensation was faint, almost imperceptible, but he felt it.

The pain was unbearable. The skin on his wrist was stretched thin. Every movement sent sharp stabs of discomfort through his nerves, but he refused to stop.

With a deep breath, he gritted his teeth and continued.

This was his only chance. He would not give up.

Again, he clenched his fist and tried to move the buckle. This time, he used the outside of his wrist, but it was even more difficult. Back to the inside of his wrist he went.

Each movement was agonizing, but bit by bit, he made progress.

Time seemed to stretch into infinity. His body ached, his mind grew heavy, but he was undeterred. Sweat trickled down his face, stinging his eyes, yet he remained focused.

Finally, a soft "click" resonated in his ears.

A wave of relief flooded over him as he pulled his right arm free from the suit. The glove fell to the floor with a soft thud, and his right hand was finally liberated.

Once his first hand was free, the rest seemed much easier.

He freed his left hand, then his chest and waist, slowly peeling away the confines of the spacesuit. The helmet came off next, and his vision cleared, though the air around him was still stifling. It was hot and dry, but the air outside the suit was a welcome relief.

He breathed deeply, savoring the fresh air that filled his lungs.

It felt like a luxury, something he had taken for granted until now, something so vital to life.

But as he breathed faster, coughing overtook him, a sharp pain in his lungs. His body, still stiff from the struggle, felt as if it were breaking down.

With all the energy he could muster, he began to peel off the rest of the suit. The weight lifted from his shoulders as he freed himself.

He stepped carefully, his legs shaking, but he managed to maintain his balance. The trousers of the suit were heavy, but he kept going, slowly pushing them off.

Gravity, however, felt more oppressive than ever.

As soon as he started to rise, every muscle screamed in protest. The exhaustion and dehydration weighed heavily on him, threatening to drag him back down.

It was like the Earth itself was trying to pull him back, but he refused to succumb.

His hands pressed firmly against the ground, his arms trembling from the effort, but he didn't stop. He fought the weight of gravity, pushed through the ache, and slowly, painfully, he started to rise.

It was as if he were a child learning to walk again. His legs quivered, and his knees nearly buckled, but he refused to fall.

With every ounce of willpower, he straightened up, standing once again. The simple act of standing, once so familiar, now felt like the greatest achievement of his life.

Step by step, he moved forward, stumbling, but never faltering.

Each step took him closer to freedom.