The ingenu peers into the arena, observing the antics of old hands. ‘It is not my portion to be a lamb on its way to a slaughter house’, he tells himself. ‘A protective shell is needed’.
After casing the joint for what feels like eternity, the ingenu returns to the fray, ready for action.
Plunging into the abyss, wearing his protective shell, he is able to make a big splash and even some waves.
The crew inside the shell are carried along by the momentum. It goes into overdrive.
When the shell starts showing signs of wear and tear, the ingenu is too busy and preoccupied to notice the impact of events on his fellow crew members.
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