Ascent from Waters of the World

Writing Prompt: “Sir, as you commanded, the last of the Earths oceans have been completely drained. What now?”

“Sir, as you commanded, the last of the Earth’s Oceans have been completely drained. What now?”

“Now,” Elias Mane, founder of the Hydrophobic Dominance Campaign, risen to power by way of force and on a promise, the promise of a dryer World, a less complicated World, clapped his gloved hands appreciatively together, “Now we descend.”

“I’m not sure I understand Sir, were we not to ascend?” Bromide Schept was a young physicist, the one responsible for having created the enormous machines that had managed to dive beneath the Earth’s deepest reaches and unplug humanities supply of water.

It had take seven weeks of toiling undetected down below. At first the depletion of the Earth’s Oceans was rumoured to be a direct after-effect of having solved that troublesome issue of Global Warming, but when they wouldn’t stop…

“Our ships will ascend, not us. We need only ascend those necessary to be rid of the vile waters that plagued our planet. To be truly dry we must first baptise the stars.” Elias gazed upward with envy at Space, a vacant void waiting to be conquered. But that was not his conquest. His had been Earth. Earth and the putrid thing called water. “We must work quickly now Dr. Schept. If we are to meet our deadline.” Elias put an unsettling amunt of emphasis on that one word… dead, and his smiling could be heard even through the glass port hole of his helmet.

You see, Elias wore, at all times, an impenetrable suit that could be likened in looks to those suits of old that deep sea divers might have worn. Air tight, with not a gap through which the water could come. Elias himself was said to have transcended the need for water, it was in fact alleged that he had dried his body out, now less than one percent of liquid mass remaining. It was impossible to say for certain, of course, on account of the suit that he wore and the dark glass that looked outward but not in.

No one had seen Elias in the flesh for centuries gone by, though many had depicted him in propaganda as a muscular creature with skin pulled tight to the bone, like that of a plastic bag sucked dry of all air. Crumpled. Weightless. Yet still entirely muscular. 

A leader must be strong. Always.

Bromide was looking out over the vast abyss that had not so long ago been the Pacific Ocean. Now a wasteland, derelict with crumbling cliffs laden with rapidly drying out – dying out – coral reefs.

An odour crawled out of the pit, the stench of rotting fish baring a salty sting to the nose and the eyes. Of sea life there were none remaining to speak of. As the spherical ships took flight you could see beneath them (encased in giant tanks of glass miles wide and twice as long) all manor of aquatic beast, no longer permitted to roam the Lands of Man. These beasts too would be dumped in the Great Baptism of Space.

It may comfort you to know, however, that they’d evolve, and eventually the vast abyss would be littered with magnificent creatures. Creatures that would swim endlessly about the skies, bringing light to the dark with luminescent scaled skin and eyes and fins.

But for now…

“What of those that man the ships, Sir?” Bromide asked, but already she knew the answer.

“As I’ve said, necessary.” he felt the need to elaborate, “Necessary sacrifices. You’ll understand, given time. A baptism is never truly a baptism less it ends in blood.”

Already great numbers of landscaping vehicles had arrived upon the furthest horizons of the cliffs. Where once there had been water there now lingered only clouds of smoke.

Raising a gloved hand Elias signalled the vehicles to begin their laboursome task of reforming the Earth’s pits into something more habitable.

“I have chosen you, Dr Schept, as my first.” Elias placed a hand on Bromide’s shoulder, she tried unsuccessfully to hold back a repulsive shiver. “We must all transcend from our liquid form, we must all evolve. I am the seed, you see, and that seed must be sewn before it the harvest can begin. We will sew that seed, you and I, together. It begins with us, it ends with a better tomorrow, a drier tomorrow, for all humanity.”

Bromide’ s eyes began to sulk, tears forming behind the lids, but she knew to cry would only bring his wrath. Elias Mane, the Mighty Hydrophobe, saviour of humanity, rumoured to have forgone all emotion from fear that his tear ducts still held some trace of vile water. He would not, could not, cry from sorrow or from joy.

Looking only at the dark behind her eyes own lids, Bromide whispered in her mind; God forgive me, what have I done…

Copyright © K R Perry 2019

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