Tides of Tomorrow

The air tasted like rust and regret.
 It clung to everything—the twisted remains of cars half-swallowed by the sea, the skeletal husks of buildings leaning like drunks in a storm, and the sweat sliding down Kai’s spine. He stood on the crumbling edge of what used to be the city’s seawall, staring at the endless, hungry ocean. The waves didn’t crash anymore; they whispered, sly and patient, as if reminding him who was really in charge.
 Kai ran his fingers through his graying hair, feeling the weight of years etched into his skin. His reflection in a shattered window nearby caught his eye—a face he barely recognized, lined with more than just age. He’d been here before. Not this exact spot, but this moment. The one where everything teetered on the edge of collapse, and all he could do was watch.
 The radio on his hip hissed, then crackled to life.
 “Kai,” Mara’s voice broke through, thin and tight with fear. “East wall’s breaching.”
 Kai’s jaw clenched. He pressed the transmitter. “West wall’s already gone.”
 A pause. He could almost hear her swallow on the other end. “Well...that's not good.”
 “Yeah.”
 They both knew what this meant. The walls were their last lie, the final illusion that they could hold back the ocean’s wrath with steel and concrete. But you can’t outbuild greed, and you can’t outrun the past. The corporations had promised salvation, sold it by the square foot, but Kai had seen the blueprints. He’d known the truth.
 And now everyone else did too. 

Twenty years ago, this city had been a jewel—glass towers reflecting the sky, streets buzzing with life. When the water started creeping in, they’d built barriers, levees, and walls. The rich had retreated inland, leaving the rest to buy safety in monthly payments. Then the breaches came. The debts. The evacuations. The drownings. It was never about stopping the water. It was about selling the illusion that they could.

He turned, heading for the staging area. Every step sent dust and salt grinding beneath his boots.

The city was quieter now. The storm had taken most of the stragglers. He passed the husk of a market, its awning sagging with the weight of dried seaweed. A street vendor’s cart lay overturned, its wares scattered and useless. Farther down, the skeleton of an apartment complex loomed, its windows shattered, the balconies crumbling like brittle bone. In the alley beneath it, a group of survivors huddled in the shadows—eyes hollow, skin stretched thin. They didn’t ask for help. They knew better.

Mara met him at the square, her face streaked with dirt, a boy no older than eight gripping her sleeve.

“Last transport’s in fifteen,” she said. “You coming?”

Kai looked past her at the handful of survivors waiting by the old courthouse. They weren’t the first. They wouldn’t be the last. But the water was rising, and the places left to run were disappearing.

He turned his gaze to the sea. The tide was already creeping over the lowest streets. In a few hours, they’d be gone. He could stay. He could watch it happen, just to see if there was anything left worth seeing. But then he looked at the boy, clinging to Mara’s sleeve like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to this world.

He sighed. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m coming.”

They walked toward the last helicopter as the ocean swallowed the city behind them.

The flight out was rough. The rotor blades carved through thick clouds of mist and salt, and the battered transport bucked under the wind. Kai sat near the open door, watching as the city shrank into the horizon. It was nearly unrecognizable now—only the tops of the tallest buildings still visible above the water, their reflections rippling like dying embers in a black sea.

Mara slid into the seat across from him. “You alright?”

He rubbed his face. “I don’t know.”

“You did what you could.”

He scoffed. “Did I?”

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she pulled her jacket tighter around herself, the cold seeping in even at this altitude. The boy was curled up beside her, asleep despite the turbulence. His fingers were still wrapped around the frayed sleeve of her coat.

“I used to believe we could fix things,” Kai said after a moment. “That we were just one breakthrough away from turning this around.”

Mara met his gaze. “And now?”

He shook his head. “Now, I think we were always just buying time.”

They lapsed into silence. Below them, the ocean stretched endlessly, swallowing roads, homes, memories. But further inland, just beyond the dead city’s reach, lights still flickered in the darkness. The inland colonies, built hastily when the first walls failed, still held on.

Below them, the ocean stretched endlessly. But Kai knew that somewhere beneath the surface lay swallowed homes, roads, memories.

Another transport veered toward them, full of warriors who had made it back alive the first time around. But now they were going again.

The transport veered toward them. Toward the next fight. Because survival didn’t end when the water won. It just changed the rules.

Mara rested her chin on her knuckles, watching the horizon. “So, where do we go from here?”

Kai took a deep breath. “Somewhere higher.”

The inland colonies were a patchwork of desperation and innovation. Shantytowns sprawled at the edges, built from scavenged materials and salvaged hopes, while farther in, reinforced steel and glass structures housed the lucky few. The divide was clear—the wealthy had carved their safety into the hills while the displaced scrabbled for a foothold on the fringes.

The transport landed outside one of the larger colonies. The air smelled of packed earth and too many bodies. Fires burned in rusted barrels, casting flickering light on the makeshift housing. The distant hum of water filtration systems reminded everyone that even inland, survival wasn’t guaranteed.

Mara nudged Kai. “We need to check in with the council.”

Kai’s gaze lingered on the families lined up at the gates, clutching bags of belongings. The guards’ rigid postures said it all—they were at capacity.

“We can’t keep doing this,” Kai muttered. “Stacking people higher, pushing further inland every time the water rises. It’s not sustainable.”

Mara sighed. “Then what do you propose?”

“We stop fighting the water. We need to start living with it.”

Inside the repurposed warehouse that served as the council chamber, officials sat at a table cluttered with reports. They barely looked up.

“The city’s gone,” Kai reported. “It’ll be underwater by nightfall.”

A murmur of resignation passed through the room.

“And the survivors?”

“Outside,” Mara said. “But we’re out of room. And supplies.”

The council already knew. It was the same everywhere.

Kai stepped forward. “This isn’t working. We need a new approach. Floating cities. Modular homes that rise with the tides. Artificial landmasses.”

An official scoffed. “And where do we get the resources? We can barely keep the desalination plants running.”

“There are places with resources to spare,” Kai said. “They think they’re safe on high ground. But the water will reach them too. They need to see that oceanic adaptation isn’t charity—it’s survival.”

Mara folded her arms. “So you want to pressure the inland elites for funding?”

Kai smirked. “Call it what you want. We don’t have time to wait for them to grow a conscience.”

Silence. Then the woman at the head of the table nodded. “Alright. Let’s talk about how we make this happen.”

Kai’s mind raced as he thought of solutions that could keep them from being swallowed whole by the relentless ocean. The floating city concept was the first step—entire communities built on adaptive platforms that could rise and fall with the changing tides. These cities wouldn’t be isolated islands; they would be interconnected, a network of hubs that could spread across the water. Each platform would be designed to grow with the needs of its population, like a coral reef expanding over generations. Homes, businesses, and farms could all float together, tethered to the earth by pylons and reinforced steel. 

But it wasn’t just about building on water—it was about living on it. Kai envisioned floating gardens, farms that would grow crops on rafts, utilizing the saltwater and algae for nutrients. Maybe even a natural defense system, something consisting of coral reefs and Biorock. The ocean could provide more than just destruction—it could offer resources too.

Then there were the artificial islands. Instead of scrambling to build higher ground, why not create it where none existed? Kai saw the potential in creating landmasses from reclaimed materials—scrapped boats, abandoned ships, and even recycled plastics. These islands would be engineered to withstand the sea’s push and pull, rising and sinking as needed, while serving as homes for those with nowhere else to go. 

They could be more than temporary shelters—they could be thriving, sustainable communities, built for the long haul. Each island could be outfitted with solar panels, wind turbines, and aquaponics systems, turning waste into resources, and creating a cycle of self-sufficiency. 

The land wouldn’t be taken from nature; it would be created through human ingenuity, a place to plant roots in the midst of a dying world.