The Flood

Header image by mattbuck under Creative Commons 2.0.

If I remember correctly, I lived in a monolithic complex many stories high and multiple blocks wide, every square inch of it monitored by an unknown intelligence service. We didn’t know who they were, but they were done watching and were coming for us one by one. I’d watched some of it out the window, but struggled to actually feel anything about the matter because I knew it’d happen to me either way anyway.

They came for me earlier than I thought; the evening of the next day, to be exact. They were right outside my kitchen window in one of their floating vehicles. I’d prepared for this for a long time, even if it wasn’t the smartest plan in retrospect; I took a folded hang glider, jumped out the window and extended it, flying off into the night over the bay we lived in. He didn’t pursue me, surprisingly. Either he somehow didn’t see me or he was too taken aback by the audacity of what I’d done to pursue.

I know I made it, because my next memory is being in a village that had been abandoned for a few years. I was initially among a small group of people being shown around the village by those who had originally abandoned it – a group of scientists who had chosen the place for whatever they were researching. I was with one other person being shown around by a scientist who worked at this place. The first place was a simple dance hall for leisure on the first floor of a building. A lot of it was things like that.

We left the building and headed towards another one with a road that wound around it upwards. I took the time to briefly look at the horizon, but couldn’t see it for the trees enclosing the entire area.

It started raining. It was light at first, nothing more than a light haze. But it got worse and just wouldn’t stop – it was a gradual increase, but we started running to the next building when we realised the rain wasn’t going to get any better. When we got inside and looked outside the first floor windows, we saw that the lowest areas had been completely flooded; only the tops of buildings lower down could be seen above the water. Even flooded, it was still a nice view, though. Once you get over the shock and fear of the floods. In dreams, floods don’t tend to stop at reasonable levels.

The scientist beckoned us to the window on the other side of the room, looking into another room…no, it was more of a vast empty space about 50 metres by 50 metres; the floor was stories below this one, but the ceiling was as the same height. We could see the water at the same level as the bottom of the window we were looking through now, but the scientist didn’t seem very worried. She pointed at some marks on the barely visible opposite corner of the space. They looked like watermarks and she was talking about them, but I didn’t know what she was talking about. It worried me nearly as much as the floods did.

It ends there for me.

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