The Orchestrated Rain

Morning

An empty house felt unnatural, wrong. Walking the corridors and spacious rooms of his estate Marcus absently recalled events of yesterday. He searched for a reason, for justification why his family would leave. But there was none. Yesterday was a normal day filled with the usual routine: another customer terminated his contract, another malfunction occurred in the algae collection unit, another official warning from the coastal guard about the weakness of the nearby section of the Sea Barrier. The routine. And yet, something must have happened, something has changed Marcus's world to its core. Walking down he felt utter confusion about how all things that he expected, the were happening every morning, were not there. Not the sound of a frying bio-bacon greeted him in the kitchen. Not a sad mumble of his son, woken up early from the upstairs. Only silence. Silence and a message, left in his hand compute, that was raising more questions than giving answers. It contained the already observed fact that they have left, -- but not the reason.

A chilly breeze greeted Marcus as he exited the house. The air was salty, sour and smelled of seaweed. It could have been a pleasant morning, he thought, looking around the farm with attentiveness turned into a habit. Half distracted, Marcus examined tightly spaced rows of slowly rotating up and down greenish-brown fabric, stretching far in all directions. These were the algae. Passing through nitrogen and sulfur-rich wastewater from the city at the lowest level of the farm, they were purifying it, acquiring nutrients sufficient to grow. Other machinery, placed above, automatically harvested the algae when the time was right, fabricating special fertilizers for City gardens and Towers. This was his family business, his pride, his main duty. But now it felt as if he was the only one left.

Wandering off the usual track, onto a small pear, Marcus's eyes stopped on the pyramid of light dimly glowing in a hazy distance. It was still dark, and the light, produced by billions of lamps, signs, holographic projectors and other artificial sources was creating a crescent-shaped halo. The City. For generations his family worked with many agricultural firms, providing algae supplements and also gaining government subsidies for desalinating water in the Bay. It started as a very successful business and Marcus believed that with due care it can be turned into one again. But he was getting old and couldn't keep up with the ever-changing business climate. The time approaches when he would have to step down and let a younger mind take over. With sadness and irritation, Marcus was looking at the barely distinguishable pillars of light, illuminating the early morning foggy sky. One thought was beating in his mind, like blood from an open wound. Elena has left and she took his son.

Trying to keep the normal working routine, Marcus went down to the control room to check water conditions, the processing status and updates on other systems. He did not have automation for that, -- Marcus did not like the idea of it in general and preferred to do as much work manually as possible. But now there was a problem. He was distracted and not able to focus. He tried to detach himself, convince himself that everything is going to be all right soon. Elena will return, and life will resume its course. But deep inside, not yet realized, grew the bitterness, grief and anger. All the years he tried his best to make it work, but to no avail. He was powerless, tired. It hurt.

The work did not go well. Marcus was making mistakes. It felt like his arms had forgotten how to hold an instrument and his brain -- how to operate the machinery. After realizing that he was creating more problems than solving, Marcus went back home and shut the door. It took him several moments to realize that he just broke the door handle. Rage, mixed with bitterness was boiling within. Gradually Marks accepted that he would not be able to just sit and wait. Despite the contempt he had for the City, what it did to his father, he would have to go. It would not be easy. He had no friends there, no one to ask for help, direction, or advice. It was quite the opposite. Because his business was unharmed and profited during the last big flood, when many people lost their homes, workplaces, and some -- their lives, Marcus was perpetrated by the media as a crook, a man without honor. Bitter memories together with the overwhelming feeling of resentment combined into a short burst of rage, a wave of burning anger towards Elena for leaving, but even more so towards himself for not preventing it.