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Outside the Senate Chambers
Atlantis
Before the fall

 

Ampheres emerged into the bright afternoon sun, the breeze off the ocean light but welcome, the scent of the sea something he would never tire of. To his right, the source of their impending destruction continued to smolder, steam or some other gas wafting into the clear sky like a lazy cloud.

“Professor Ampheres, do you have anything to say to the press?”

“What was it that was so urgent you were granted an audience?”

Ampheres frowned, forgetting what was awaiting him on the steps of the Senate. He was about to open his mouth when someone finally noticed what was still gripped in his hand.

“Is that Poseidon’s Trident?”

He stared at it for a moment, unsure of what to do, but quickly realizing that his future of imprisonment was already certain. And he might only have moments to warn the population. He raised the trident in the air, the gathered reporters falling silent. “I have taken this symbol of our past, to remind our present leaders of their duty. We took control of our own destinies centuries ago when we cast off the gods, and embraced the notion of personal responsibility. We decided it was mankind that should be ultimately responsible for its actions, for its deeds, and once we did, our civilization advanced rapidly.”

He looked at the reporters, every last one of them soon to be dead. “Yet today, through inaction, all that we built will be lost, but worse, so will the people who built it.” He pointed at the building behind him. “Those men and women in there have forgotten that their responsibility is to the people of Atlantis, not the structures we have built. Atlantis is its people, not these streets, not these buildings. Yet soon, this will all be destroyed, and because of their inaction, so will you.”

“What do you mean? Are you talking about the mountain?”

“Yes, I’m talking about the mountain. The earthquakes have been getting worse, not better as their scientists have been claiming, and the heat from the top of that beast”—he jabbed a finger at the mountain in the distance—“has been increasing at a terrifying rate. My team returned just yesterday from a two-week survey, and we have proof that the government has been lying to us. That mountain will soon explode, and if we don’t take action, then we are all going to die.”

“But what can we do? Is there any way to stop it?”

“No, not that our science knows of yet. Our only hope is evacuation.”

Somebody guffawed. “How do you evacuate so many people? It’s impossible!”

“Exactly. But we can save some, and some will be all we need to rebuild our great city when the calamity is over.”

“And what if you’re wrong?”

“Then I’m wrong, and you can all laugh at me in your reports, and I will be shunned for the rest of my life. But we will all be alive. Though if I’m right, and our city is indeed destroyed, then I will take no pleasure in saying ‘I told you so,’ because I too will be dead beside you. We must take action now and evacuate as many as we can, before it is too late. And this government, in its blind ignorance, refuses to act, too concerned to be thought the fool if I’m wrong.

“But I say we need to act now, get our people on the boats, and head east, back through the Pillars of Hercules, and find a safe location to settle until we see what happens to our home. And should I be wrong, those we sent will return. But if I am right, it will be those we were able to save who will rebuild Atlantis. And while it may not be here, on this island we call home, it will still be Atlantis, because Atlantis is its people, and it is its people that makes it great. Our knowledge, our ways, will allow us to rebuild, and perhaps even one day reclaim this home I fear will be lost any day now.”

“Do you plan on running?”

He frowned at the reporter. “Running sounds like a coward’s way out, and I am no coward. If I am permitted, I will leave with my family, and I pray that thousands will join me. But I fear, with my actions here today”—he held up the trident, giving it a shake—“I will be trapped inside a prison cell, condemned to die with the rest of you when the time comes.” He sighed, lowering the trident to his side. “Now, I must go see my wife and children, before that ineffectual bunch behind me send their enforcers of ignorance to arrest me.”

He pushed through the crowd, heading for the canal transport now pulling up to the dock serving the Senate, the members of the press chasing him, peppering him with questions. He climbed aboard, flashing his pass to the attendant, then took a seat, the press still onshore. The conductor reattached the boat to the water-powered line that stretched the length of the route along one of the many canals carved into the landscape, traveling from the sea to the edge of the mountain, three massive circular harbors surrounding the core of their civilization providing cross-access to the other parts of the city.

It was ingenious.

It was Atlantean.

And it would soon be lost to the world.

He closed his burning eyes, picturing his wife and young children dying in the massive explosion he knew was to come. His fist squeezed the trident tight as he decided he would not yield to fate. He had to save his family. He had to save as many as he could.

Yet he had no idea how.