Enjoy my latest spark of imagination, the preview for the plot of part two of my short story, Hydrophobia (Part one in progress). Keep in mind, I will most likely not post more until this project reaches 75 hearts or if Part one is fully written. -Content in notes and credits If you are confused by some of the terms used in the story, this should clear it up: Republic of Horizons: The U.S. fell into anarchy around 2030 and most of the western states seceded to form an independent nation. Accra: using the prefix “Accra” before a word signals that it is a specific place. Ex. Accra-Nova is a space station. Nyra: using the prefix “Nyra” before a word signifies the word is an object of cultural interest or a product specifically created in the nation. Ex. Nyra-Coin is the currency used in the Republic of Horizons. -prefixes or other “strange” words are simply a cultural reference in my story and are entirely fictional, not influenced or inspired by anything in the real world.
HYDROPHOBIA The weather was unusually warm that morning: the morning of the Day of the Red Sun. Not to mention a winter morning- January 5, 2050. Not only a new year, but a new decade, a clean slate for anyone willing to take it. Crime rates were lower than any new year, and civilians around the world were generally optimistic of their future. …Until the Day of the Red Sun. I was glad to enjoy those first days of a coming age, but the last days of the Earth’s shining glory, and I cherished the precious memories from the Green Days, as most called the time before the Scorch. I longed for a time when the Earth would thrive in life and vegetation as it had previously, but the state the world is currently in is helpless. But there was still hope: The Colonies. A place where humanity could start over; Earth had its chance, and humanity discovered a way to live without it. The great nation of the Republic of Horizons had recently discovered the secret to long-range space exploration and began to inhabit Alpha Centauri, and as the geography of the planet is unfamiliar, they often make a stop at the Accra-Nova Station orbiting Earth to collect fuel. I am currently on the way to the Accra-Aquata Station, a large expanse of interconnected oil rigs off the coast of Northern Washington where they graciously offer refuge to survivors of the Scorch to assist in rebuilding civilization off-world, but for a price: 7,500 Nyra-Coins to help fund their government. An equivalent of 30,000 USD for one life. Accra-Aquata is a beacon of hope for the desperate; oil rigs are the closest to luxury on this desolate planet.
