Dear Readers,
In an attempt to include more narratives in this blog, I've decided to make my weekend posts more similar to my "Day in the Life" Tuesday posts, with an extended, story-based focus. Each post will be a two-parter: one post for your Saturday, one post for your Sunday, but a connected narrative. This should allow me to develop the narrative a little bit more and give a little bit more world focus, so that you can visit a time stream in greater depth.
For the inaugural installment, inspired by the fact that I've gotten a lot of visits from a reader in Boca Raton, FL lately, I want to write about a society where a lot of travel is by boat. For anyone unfamiliar with Boca, it's famous for its waterways. The society I write about, however, is a little different: a nearly riparian lagoon created by the overflow of Manhattan's East and Hudson Rivers in the mid-21st century.
Always,
Dr. John Skylar
Chairman
Department of Anachronism
University of Constantinople
Lap, lap, lap. Sam listened to the water against the side of his boat, anchored in the mild noonday sun. She felt happy and full, for once.
She felt the boat rock as Thomas shifted next to her.
He yawned, then piped up, “Hey Sam, what day do you figure it is?”
She blinked her eyes open into the sun above the high rises. Her blonde hair filtered the worst of it. She spoke, “I reckon it’s maybe July 15th, Tommy.”
He scrunched up his face, skeptical, “Think so? Thought it was closer to August.”
“Well how should I know? It’s not like my cell works anymore. You have a copy of the Times?” Sam laughed at her own joke.
“S’pose not. It’s only a couple weeks different, anyhow. Just curious how long it’s gonna be before fall starts to come, when we’ll need to start stocking up on the fish.”
She closed her eyes again and smiled, “See, that’s what I like about ya, Tom. Always thinking ahead.”
“Well, I was an accountant before all this.”
And he looked it. Balding, dark haired, beady eyes…but wicked smart, and that mattered more to her after the Flood than anything else.
“Yeah yeah, Mr. Numbers Man. Doesn’t do much for you when there’s no office left to go to, though.”
“At least I know how fast we’ll run out of food with you sitting around all the time not catching anything.”
She jerked up, fast, to trick him into thinking she would push him off the boat for that comment. He always fell for that one. Maybe because sometimes, she actually did push him off the boat. At least the river got a lot cleaner after the Flood.
Thomas flinched back, and she laughed, “Just kidding—this time.”
He smiled, “All right. Guess I’ll have to find some other way to get a bath, then. Where to today, boss?”
“Well, like you mentioned, we’d best start stocking up on fish for the fall. Gotta catch a few, make jerky, the works. Hear any good rumors about where they’re biting?”
“Well how should I know, I’ve been on this boat with you all day.”
She laughed again, “Yes, but you’ve been awake, loverboy.”
He smiled, “All right, all right. Word on the water’s that there’s a bunch of salmon grouper and other rockfish at the base of the Columbus Circle statue.”
She rolled her eyes, “Uch it’s such a pain to get there from here. Nothing else? Astor, maybe?”
“Nothing, but you know the old familiar haunts.”
“Nah, you’re right. It’ll be slim anywhere else. In a couple more hours we’ll have enough juice from the solar collector, so we’ll leave then. It’ll be rush hour, but whatever. That’s when they bite.”
And that's all for now! Look for Part II on Sunday.
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