Don't look down, you repeat to yourself, abseiling deeper into the mouth of Olympus Mons.
The static rope feels thin as spaghetti.
Which is exactly what you’ll look like if you take one wrong step.
The tour guide—included in the caving package—hollers: “See anything?”
Don't look down. “You hear that?”
“Hear what?”
“That rumbling …” You freeze.
There is it again, coming from under you.
Don't look down. The rope shivers. “Like the volcano's about to erupt.”
“We're not picking up any fumarolic activity.”
Then something yanks at your ankle.
Something cold.
Don't.
Look.
Down.
(You looked down.)
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