Tevun-Krus #75 - International 4: SolarPunk

A Sea Like Glass - An English Short Story by @BrianScottPauls

A Sea Like Glass
by BrianScottPauls

I stand up from my workstation, rubbing the heels of my hands into my eyes, trying to wipe away the after-images of my final report. We've done it, after five years of unrelenting work. We beat GreenPower into production with weeks to spare before their plant goes online.

How do you celebrate your first leave in five years? By meeting your partner at the best bar in town!

I hoof it to the helipad. Normally I would go by boat like all the other specialists, but our CO has given the whole team flight passes as a reward for finishing ahead of schedule. There are just two Chinooks left on the pad when an MP flags me to a halt. I wait impatiently while he queries my ident, finally waving me through as the first 'copter takes off. I get to the second, hustle up the ramp, and strap into one of the few remaining seats. Two minutes later the door closes, the rotors roar to life, and we're airborne.

Something flashes in my vision--a message from Mercado, gloating that he's already well into his first drink at Al's. Damn it! He flew over to the rig early in the morning to continue working on the endless problems with the treatment plant. I tell him I'll buy if he slows down until I get there.

My seat happens to be near one of the few windows. I crane my head around to get a good look at the Array on the way over. Borgschulte Base is on the outer edge of Module 68. The Array is comprised of nearly a hundred such artificial floating islands, loosely connected in an hexagonal arrangement that covers well over a square kilometer. I can see the myriad rows of solar panels spread out below us, a panoply of dark mirrors dimly reflecting the sunlight.

Kohlestadt takes up all of Module 1, in the very center of the Array. Unlike the other modules, it's a massive refining platform--like the old oil rigs, but much larger. From a distance, all you see is a byzantine assemblage of electrolysis and electrodialysis facilities, pumping stations, and bulky methanol staging tanks looming over the rest of the Array. Kohlestadt, however, is home to nearly 10,000 refinery workers, chemical and electrical engineers, oceanographers, project managers, executives, and the service businesses to support them. That's about the population density of Tokyo or Beijing, so Kohlestadt is pretty much hustle-and-bustle 24-7. It's the best sort of place to disappear for a week or four, and Al's is the best place to start.

Tucked away beneath a high-traffic catwalk, in the shadow of a catalytic tower on the east side of town, Al's Ethanol Emporium is a Kohlestadt institution. The owner (who isn't named Al, but everyone calls him that anyway) was one of the first entrepreneurs to move onto Module 1 nearly five years ago. There are a ton of watering holes in Kohlestadt, but when their bartenders have a night off, they go to Al's.

When I arrive, the place is already packed. Merc has grabbed a wobbly high-top close to the door and waves me over. I take one of the stools next to him and look around for a server, preferably male. I know it's not fair to use my sex to shortcut the system, but I hate waiting in bars and restaurants. I see a young man--maybe 19--a couple of tables away. He finishes taking an order and turns in my direction. I flash him my best smile, hoping he's not more interested in Mercado's type than mine. This time, the odds work in my favor. He responds with a smile of his own and walks over.

"Hello!" The crowd is so noisy, he almost shouts in his thick Scandinavian accent. "I'm Aksel. What can I get you?"

"This place is a madhouse tonight." I really am shouting.

"Worse than usual! Everyone is so happy the Array is finished."

"That's why we're here!" I turn toward Mercado so he will hear me over the noise. "Your glass is empty! What do you want?"