The Orchestrated Rain

Midday

As the City was getting bigger and closer, filling up with details and signs of life, Marcus's face grew tenser and tenser. There was a reason he avoided going here ever since the last big flood. Back then the business was not going very well. Being one of the "old guard" farmers, independent small business owners, he was no longer able to compete with corporations that held entire farm-islands that could produce more, faster, and cheaper. As the new self-sufficient Towers started to emerger with permanent contracts with one of those big corporations, Marcus's family was losing clients, losing their business. Back then, Marcus was younger, stronger and he fought with everything he had. "The dying small business", "the last man standing" -- some of the headlines he was able to push. Eventually, he has gotten public attention, even some recognition, but sadly, not the reputation. And when the big flood came the public swiftly turned against him.

The catastrophe happened many years ago when a particularly strong storm had knocked down one of the sections of the Sea Barrier and waves several meters high entered the bay. The flood did not last long, but damage appeared to be so severe, that part of the City was abandoned. People were relocated into temporary housing, which at that time Towers were called. Since then, the fate of this "old city" ruins remained uncertain. They have been used as a political tool, memorial, museum, and are now involved in so many schemes and plans, that -- just getting permission to touch them was a bureaucratic nightmare.

The section of the Sea Barrier that fell was the one closest to the City and furthest from his farm. It was a catastrophe. Not only a lot of people lost their houses, belongings... lives. The government sped up the Tower building initiative and the need for agricultural supplies skyrocketed. At the same time, the loss of infrastructure has made offshore trading difficult.
It did not take long for the press to notice a new rising star, -- a small family business that was on its way to become a corporation. Someone has decided that it was a good scapegoat to blame all the misfortunes on, or maybe it was a revenge. Marcus, his family, his life were ruined. He got so much bad press it was unbearable, and in the end, the catastrophe had caught up with him as well.

Marcus swallowed, as the bitterness of memories started to block his throat. His boat was approaching the ruins of the Old City. Half-submerged remains of 2-3 stores buildings, bridges, concrete and metal constructions rusting away in a salty acidized water.

Marcus slowed down his boat and carefully navigated it between dark, dead buildings that appeared like dead islands, rising from the water. The place was unsettling. Looking at the brownish metal frames -- top parts of traffic lights -- Marcus felt like a drop of cold water ran down his spine. Maybe some things can never be restored. Maybe people will never live like that again, in small houses with neighbors across the street. Maybe... something else will also never be the same. The somber motion of the boat raised equally somber memories.

After the marriage in which only his family was present, Marcus returned with Elena to the estate as a family. However, hopes for a change, for life in openness and agreement have soon vanished and the old daily routine returned. Marcus was spending most of his time on the farm, tending the aging equipment and systems that were in dire need of an upgrade, while Elena was at home, working in the NEt. He made her a part of the business, his public relations manager, thinking that maybe work will make them closer. But the effect was quite the opposite. With each day the distance between them grew. Living in the same house, sometimes they spent weeks not seeing each other. Like a burning iron bolt in a heart, despair was torchering Marcus. But then, for a short time, it all became unimportant: his father died.

It was not completely unexpected. He was an old man with weak health who spent all his life on the algae farm, working with chemicals, acids, machinery. But it was not age or sickness that took his life. The old man could not bear the humiliation and public disgrace of his family that swept across media after the flood. One day Marcus, returning from the City, found an empty package of a decade-old sleeping pills, near his bed.
Loss of the person who raised him, and probably, the only one who truly believed in him, threw Marcus into a depression. While working the whole day, every day, on repairing the farm, increasing its output, he became obsessed with one idea. One thing -- he thought -- that would make his life better and would bring warmth to his home.