They said it would never happen
Aisa joined the monochrome queue of fellow islanders in the dimly lit corridor – are they still islanders? He no longer knew or even cared. His too-big boots boomed against the metal walkway, heading towards the municipal commuter transport.
His assigned job was as a history teacher at the primary school. Teaching gave him a purpose at least, and it got him out of his rather cramped living quarters. He had lived there all his life – depressingly it felt both temporary and permanent.
He had prepared today’s lesson late last night. Marine life and oceanic weather systems – and he had been lucky enough to have sourced some of the old imagery. He smiled to himself as he pictured the kids faces as they saw the photos of whales, coral reefs, storms – although frustratingly the majority were static and 2D.
It seemed even colder than usual. Another department cut back maybe. Aisa shivered as he stepped out of the transport and headed down the final stairway. He tightened the hood on his fleece overall – utterly filthy and only going to get filthier, as his government issue laundry token was not due to be renewed for another 4 weeks.
The school – now visible through the murk – was hastily built many decades ago. Along with the field hospital and ice processing plant, it was located at the bottom of the giant silo.
Frozen walls of the Pacific Ocean imprisoning the survivors on all sides.
- Copyright Linnhe Harrison 2021