He began to roll, not towards the outflow, but towards the wall. He found a rough patch of brick, a vertical ladder of microscopic crystals. He started to climb.
The drop felt the pull of the oil's embrace. It would be easy to merge, to lose his tiny, frantic self in that oily, indifferent calm. No more counting. No more climbing. flushed away 1 10
He began to move, a steady, determined roll along a slick of bio-film. His first challenge: The Grease-Falls. He began to roll, not towards the outflow,
He passed the Temple of Rust, a magnificent arch formed by an old tin can. He navigated the Perilous Currents of the 5-Way Split, dodging a flotilla of dead matches. Each junction he passed, the number inside him ticked down. 9. 8. 7. The drop felt the pull of the oil's embrace
He was a single drop of water. But he was him . A tiny, perfect sphere of consciousness wrapped in surface tension.