Doug Allan

Then, slipping on her fins, she surrenders to the cool water.

Immediately the noises of the world above disappear, replaced by just the steady rhythm of her own breathing through the aqualung.

Kicking away, she begins her descent.

The Red Sea opens in astonishing clarity.

The reef below rises to meet her, a garden in motion, with coral growing in multiple shapes and forms.

Every inch is vivid with life.

Antheas flicker past in clouds of orange, and a pair of brilliant butterflyfish glide by.

Below her, the continental shelf dips away into deeper blue.

She exhales and lets herself sink a little more, the pressure tightening briefly around her ears before releasing as she equalizes.

She swims on, glancing at her compass.

Not far now.

At last, she glimpses the vivid yellow of Starfish House, an airtight capsule standing on stilt-like legs on the seabed, bubbles streaming from its air supply.

Letting herself into the cage-like structure at the basement, Simone climbs a ladder through the circular moon pool, where water gives way to air.

There, as she hauls herself onto the platform, her movements grow heavier with the return of gravity.

A half-dressed diver greets her and steps in to help, unbuckling her tank and easing the weight from her shoulders.

After rolling down her wetsuit, she heads next door to the living area.

There she finds the men sitting around a small table, with cigarettes in their hands, wearing only shorts to keep cool.

After exchanging greetings and pausing to tickle their green parrot under the beak, she pinches a smoke from one of them and slips through to the kitchen.

Through a small window, movement catches her eye.

A triggerfish hovers just outside, watching them.