He stripped down to his trunks in the department store climbing the high dive stand, from which he would propel into the black river below. It wasn’t a traditional shifting of employees, but a publicity stunt, performed at six every night. How else could they keep clientele in the stank of pollution? His dive arched until goop coated his body. Hidden from view, he swung his hand wide when Jacob didn’t slap his hand in crossing. Blindly, his hands dragged along the jagged floor. When he gasped for air mid-route, the crowd applauded and his manager called into the radio.