Gates of Abbot

Chapter one: The last hope

The Eventides has always been a place for class war. Two twin islands, each surrounded by nothing but water, and close to five thousand people to share the space with. For decades, we've advertised ourselves as 'double the paradise, twice the fun' and, although it might be true in the literal sense, us residents have always been aware of the truth, the classism inscribed in our blood.

There's no in between. You either live in the Doris Seaside —east, the poorest of both islands— or the Nereus Seaside —west, where the rich thrive in power—. There is the exception of those who grew up in Doris and made their way up and out, just like Mr. Hayes, now owner of the biggest beach club on The Eventides, The Charm of The Sea. But the pattern for those who have participated in that transition is the same: to forget their roots, their families, and become unrecognizable in order to create their very own. And so, the segregation continues and the balance remains.

Ever since I was a little girl, I've always dreamt of a time where both sea sides would come together to find a middle ground but, as I grew up, I figured we truly weren't as divided as it seemed. Of course there is the Nereids Lagoon that physically separates both islands, but there's also the same titled bridge built right over it, the locally infamous 160 meter long bridge built to connect us all, and charge the highest toll of The Eventides you'll ever know, but that's besides the point. You see, even when the upper class has its large ranch houses, fancy cars, extensive golf courses, and beautiful beaches, none of it would mean anything without the hard work of the Dorians. The everlasting hatred from both sides has been worked through the fact that Nereus can't survive without Doris and, well, the Doris Seaside knows we're all they've got. Yes, we. The wealth gap we've created against the Dorians is not enough to forget that, after the world's sea levels raised to an all-time high, we're the only humans recorded on Earth. Out of all the highland areas left, The Eventides is the only place where ours and a few other land species managed to survive out of water. Thus, even with the big social and economic difference between us, and all the prejudice in between, we're equally grateful to be here, alive, both depending on one another to endure these sour times.

Now, please let me explain myself before you decide to join everyone and hate me based on my name. I won't deny being a Nereusian. In fact, I'm a daughter in a quartet, as in one of the four big families of The Eventides. Since the beginning of it all, the key components to our survival in the now water-world has been managed by the generations of each quartet: the Rosarios hold authority over all power sources, the Hayes are in charge of the water supply and fishing, the Emmersons, me, are responsible for agriculture and farming, and the Abbots, the leaders of us all, housing. Our lifelong list of generational quartets have proudly taken responsibility for The Eventides' survival over the time being but, all being sweet-sounding, there's a thin line between power and being an asshole.

I can't remember the last time I went to a field, to a farm. And although I wish to, I'd be damned if I showed my face near any of the two. My duties as the daughter of the Emmerson family include about attending social and public relation events and nothing more. The actual job of providing food for The Eventides lies on the Dorians themselves, only under my parents' instruction. And this has been happening with every quartet, getting all of the profit from a duty none of us dare to partake in. With that abuse of power, the westside has given us the gift of hatred, with it including the infamous nickname of 'Ollies'.

I'm sure they mean us as oligarchs, the selfish rulers, but whatever the speculation, it sure has stuck. In return, that's why the upper side hates them so much. Not for their slurs or insults that barely are. It's their rebellious personality that seems to be a burden, always finding new ways to show, each day becoming harder to control.

With that I take exception. I may be Nereusian, a quartet, but dare someone call me an Ollie. Me, personally? I don't hate them for their rebelliousness. No. I actually like the fight they put up every time an ollie decides to play them. At least it's entertaining. I do dislike them, though, for how incredibly stupid they are. Yes. After all the shit we've pulled on them, my family included, how can they still have hope in us? How can they accept a Dorian lifestyle based on the belief that maybe one day we and all will be worth it? Sometimes I try and give them the benefit of the doubt that they can't see the intent from the other side of the door but, me actually being in the room, I know there isn't a single Nereusian who cares about their outcome in this new society.