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"He's losing air! Someone get me an emergency tank!"
                          
Nym's head jerked up at the cry and her eyes flickered to the source of the noise, spotting the supervisor as he sprinted the length of the foundry floor towards the factory worker who had just collapsed. She couldn't see who it was from this distance, but that didn't stop the panic rising in her throat.
                          
She'd heard that dire cry three times this past week, and it was never good.
                          
People started moving, some of them panicking and rushing to the figure lying on the ground. The factory machines ground to a halt as others stopped their work to stare. Several broke off, though, dashing to the wall where a collection of emergency air tanks sat. Normally, they were untouched, but with the multiple incidents this week, there were already three missing and only two left.
                          
Nym watched the man that reached the tanks first, her lips tugging into a frown as she saw him hesitate. Why wasn't he grabbing a tank and going? The man needed air!
                          
She let go of the cart handle to move closer. Slowly, her fingers curled around the straps to the tank on her own back. She was already gulping down the air it provided, afraid each breath could be her last.
                          
Approaching the sorting bins, she got a better view of the wall where the remaining two emergency tanks were held, and her heart sank. Two neglected rusty shattered shells sat there, likely having burst overnight. Nothing remained to save the man.
                          
Nym's eyes widened a bit as she sucked in a sharp breath, a hand going to her oxygen mask. She pressed it closer to her face, her hand shaking.
                          
The man turned around and she watched his face as he gave the supervisor a wide-eyed look and shook his head slowly. The supervisor, now on his knees beside the man, trying to at least keep him calm, nodded but Nym could see him visibly pale.
                          
The man was going to die. She could feel it in her gut.
                          
She'd learned how this worked back in primary school. It was why they all had oxygen tanks and masks in the first place. You couldn't breathe the air on Earth anymore. It was a poisonous smog that would suffocate you slowly. There were horror stories she'd heard from her co-workers and in the news.
                          
She'd never thought she'd ever witness it, though.
                          
A silence had fallen across the foundry floor as everyone else seemed to reach the same conclusion and the air grew deathly still. Nym didn't dare look at the man she knew would suffocate as soon as his own oxygen tank's supply ran out. There was nothing they could do. The Shelter was too far, they'd never get a fresh tank in time.
                          
The thought of just standing there, forced to watch the man die, scared Nym more than the prospect of death itself. She bolted from the crowded room, ducking around machines and carts before bursting out of the factory. She stopped outside and sank down, hugging her knees to her chest as she battled tears.
                          
Rocking herself gently, she tried to imagine it was all a dream. She screwed her eyes shut, slowing her breaths down so they were long and deep.
                          
It's just a nightmare. I'll wake up from it tomorrow morning. I'll come back and everything will be okay. It's just a nightmare...
                          
It was a lie, but it was the only thing she could think of that sounded remotely hopeful. Nightmares ended. This one would too.
                          
Her deep breathing slowed her racing heart back to a normal pace. She settled back against the wall, opening her eyes and barely uncurling herself. Continuing to take deep breaths, she closed her eyes and focused on the gentle breeze against her skin, and the warmth of the sun settling into her bones again.