The ludicrousness of being unprepared is now clear. I estimate the temperature of the enclosure at 34 degrees Fahrenheit. I have no tool to pry open the vent plate . The chipped-out tile on the floor looks vaguely like a stuffed pepper or a Klingon death rune. The faint, bathyspheric sound of Buddy the maintenance guy percolates from the depths.
All power goes out.
This is just like the ship's bridge on Star Trek after the photon torpedo hits. The power comes back on. The elevator moves. The door opens and I leap out onto the second floor before the machine can catch me. Sorry you didn't show up.