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June 26, 2005

Volume 2, Issue 26

Today's theme comes from an album cover:

Mike Oldfield, Crises

Click for bigger. Have at it.

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Dry land existed, of course, but he had never set foot on it. Still, they had evolved into intelligent life somewhere, and begun their upward climb to the top of the ladder. As the land ran out, they had learned to build on the seas, live on what they harvested from the waters. They had learned that large cities were unsustainable and quickly used up the food resources around them, had learned to live in smaller groups. Storms took their toll, gigantic hurricanes unchecked in their march. They had learned to adapt, overcome, survive.

Still, some dreamed of other worlds.

Posted by: hnumpah at June 26, 2005 7:45 AM · Permalink

Emery works late into the night in his corner office, trying to figure out that last detail.

The architectural challenges were immense. There are a lot of reasons why people don’t build in Lake Erie. But Emery had amassed his fortune by being avant-garde and he was not going to stoop to building in downtown Cleveland like everyone else.

He had thought through all the obstacles. The Emery Building was watertight, storm-proof, and no expense was spared in office amenities. But there was one little thing that Emery had overlooked.

Other than the heliport, there is no place to park.

Posted by: Jim Parkinson at June 26, 2005 10:21 AM · Permalink

There were surface springs and scattered small bodies of water, of course, but he had never seen one. Still, life had gained a tenuous hold here, and managed to evolve, learn to live on the sands, to cherish each drop of moisture, eventually to find and tap into vast underground aquifers. They had learned to build on the shifting sands, to deal with the gigantic sandstorms that could last for days. This in turn had allowed them to leave their caves and move out onto the desert. They had learned to adapt, overcome, survive.

Still, some dreamed of other worlds.

Posted by: hnumpah at June 26, 2005 10:31 AM · Permalink

Phil waits on the levy and looks at the moon. There was once a time when the moon was a friend - a source of stories, marvel and wonder.

Now it hangs low in sky - huge and threatening - in a death dance with the Earth, spinning faster and faster around each other as they grow closer together. The earthquakes and tidal flows are worse every year. They say the collision will come in about five hundred years.

But for now Phil waits for the ebb tide so he can get to work. A man still has to eat.

Posted by: Jim Parkinson at June 26, 2005 10:44 AM · Permalink

Building in the lowlands was always a challenge. The decennial storms would dump water faster than it could be drained. Buildings had to be watertight under immense pressure until the water could be removed. Still, he was an experienced contractor, so everyone knew he was up to the task.

His skyscraper was considered by most to be quite elegant, and was placed on its own large section of land. He enclosed the section with a wall high enough to isolate it from the rest of the flooding.

The sump pumps, sourced from the lowest bidder, failed during the first storm.

Posted by: david at June 26, 2005 1:43 PM · Permalink

"God damn it!", he yelled as he sailed the CD case across the room. The case hit the wall with a loud bang.

His secretary caming running into the room, her two best attributes heaving in distress.

"Get me some Tums and an Evian!", he hollered at her. She quickly scampered from the room.

Man there were days he hated his job. Bad enough he had to manage obscure acts, but then they had to go and make his job more difficult. What the hell was that CD cover supposed to mean?

He felt the acid eating through his stomach.

Posted by: Gahrie at June 26, 2005 7:01 PM · Permalink