You dive down to the craggy red reefs and wispy seaweed. You swim through the coral stacked high in columns. As you zoom past, gooseneck barnacles close, and small fish and seahorses dart anxiously away. A much braver slipper lobster climbs among stinging polyps. You take your pick from an empty shell pile in front of a crevasse. Such a pile would normally indicate an octopus lair, but you actually see a moray eel staring out at you. It clicks its jaw in disapproval at your presence.
Crustaceans are always delicious. You push back the polyps with your bag and scoop up the lobster. It waves an antenna in confused protest as you muzzle its claws. Even though you completely outmatch it, the thing still tries to fight back, tries to hold onto its short life. You feel a stab of empathy. Soon, you may be in a similar situation.
Your search feels progressively more hollow. If you've only got days or hours or however long of immortality left, should you really be spending them on chores? Wouldn't it be better to enjoy what time you have left?