Stephen Baxter: Flood

“Who?”

He had to call back from the boat. “The disaster tourist’s disaster tourist. Thandie Jones! Give her my love when you see her.”

The boat receded, heading back toward the near-submerged Rockies. The raft children splashed and played in its wake, begging for coins. Lily heard Ana’s thin voice calling for little Boris to come in.

May 2052

Boris was six years old now. And he wasn’t much interested in some lump of rock that stuck out of the ocean. You saw lumps like that all over, just sticking out. He’d never actually been on one. Why would you want to? It wasn’t a raft, it didn’t go anywhere, you couldn’t eat it, what use was it? The only unusual thing about this one was the flag on its pole on the summit, bright red, with a cute little gold design in the corner. But even that wasn’t very interesting.

But he had to show an interest, he was told by his father Manco, for Grannie Lily was interested in it. And, his father pointed, look, there were other people interested too. Other rafts had come to sail around the rock, a gathering on the sea, all of them strangers, approaching this place. If they were all coming here there must be something worth seeing, mustn’t there?

Lily sat in her chair, under her blanket, seventy-six years old, an age she called “impossible.” Mostly she slept. When she was awake she watched the rock approach, a dot of stern darkness against the sparkling ocean, and Boris listened dutifully as Grannie Lily told him about the strange days when the world had been all rock and hardly any sea, and nobody swam or ate fish, not unless they wanted to. In those days, she said, this particular rock had had various names, old ones like Chu-mu-lang-ma, and young names like Everest. And it was special because this would soon be the only rock left sticking out of the ocean, anywhere in the world.

That impressed Boris, just a flicker, but so what? Even when the rock was underwater you could always swim down to see it if you really wanted to. However he put up with being cuddled and patted and told he was a good boy in the hope of getting a treat, a bit of dried fish or a coin. And he liked old Lily too, he really did, and not just for the treats she gave him.

After a time she would fall asleep again, mumbling, drooling a bit, and Boris would stay with her, occasionally wiping the spittle from her mouth.

Another raft approached, bigger than theirs, buoyed up by fat black tires, a ragged sail fluttering.

The people on this raft were dressed in the same faded blue coveralls Grannie Lily always wore. But Boris was a lot more interested in the kids he saw playing on the other raft. They had a tire hung up on a rope; you could climb on this thing, and swing on it, or even climb through it and sort of swim in the air.

Some of the people hopped over from the other raft and came up to Lily. They bent over her, and smiled.

Lily stirred, and flinched from the circle of faces. “?Como se llama usted??Me puede ayudar, por favor? Me llamo-”

“Lily. Lily, it’s OK. It’s me.”

Lily opened her eyes, squinting. “Thandie? Thandie Jones… And Elena, it’s lovely to see you. I was always so glad you two found each other. Never easy to find somebody in this world of ours, I know. You come from that submarine?”

“The New Jersey? No, ma’am. We were evicted when factions from the federal government took it over, in the final evacuation. Congress-men with their wives, children and mistresses. Now we’re rafting, as you are. And what became of the New Jersey I’ve no idea.”

Thandie and Elena bent down to inspect Boris. Thandie was dark and tall, Elena shorter, blond. They were both old, though not so old as Lily, not so old they couldn’t walk around anymore. Thandie ruffled his hair. “And you must be Boris. Ain’t you the cutest button?”

Lily said, “He’s half Russian, a quarter English, and a quarter Quechua- if you believe what Ollantay said about himself.”

“I bet he’d be proud to see his grandson whatever he was.”

“Have you any coins?” Boris asked. “Do you do tricks?”

“Don’t pester, Boris,” Lily said.

A man stepped forward. “Hello, Lily Brooke.”

“Jang-Jang Bahadur, it’s you, isn’t it? Well, you could knock me down. Still a handsome devil, aren’t you?”

“And you are the light of my eye, Lily Brooke.”

“Liar.”

“He’s been working for us, Lily,” Thandie said. “Him and his son, anyhow.”

“As a sherpa? Never went back to the law, eh?”

“Nobody needs lawyers.” He gestured at the rock. “But look at that! Just my luck, there goes the last mountain and nobody needs sherpas either. I am out of a job again.”

“You’ll survive, if you survived the stalag that Tibet became. I always knew you would. That’s gone now, hasn’t it? Gone with all the rest and good riddance. And you survived to see this, the waters covering the very roof of the world.”

“I am blessed-”

Lily went white, and clutched her chest. Thandie looked concerned. Boris’s mother Ana came to stand by Lily, as she did at such times, and stroked her gray hair.

“So many questions,” Lily said, whispering.

“I know, Lily,” Thandie said, kneeling before her and facing her. “Maybe you should try to rest.”

A gong sounded somewhere, off on another raft, the sound pealing over the water. “It’s time,” people called, from raft to raft. “It’s time!” Everybody on all the rafts turned to the rock in the ocean.

Boris looked too. He saw that the water had risen, even while Thandie had been talking to Grannie Lily. Already there really wasn’t much left of the rock, just a few outcroppings with the sea lapping around them. It was just a rock, Boris thought, exasperated. But his mother held firmly on to his hand. He wished it would just go ahead and drown and get it over so he could swim.

“Questions,” Lily said, her voice a gasp. She beckoned to Thandie. “Listen. I saw Gary. We met. This is years ago. He said I’d find you here today. He sent his love.”

Thandie kissed her cheek. “Thanks.”

“He has this theory. About life on an ocean world. Storms and stuff. A new equilibrium.”

Thandie snorted. “Gary’s full of shit. He hasn’t done any real science for thirty years. I love him dearly.”

“But do you think, you know, it might be possible? Is that the future? Is that what it’s all been about? Earth finding a new way to sustain life?”

“I don’t know,” Thandie said. “None of us knows.”

That great gong rang again, and even Boris turned to watch the rock.

“And,” Lily said, plucking at Thandie’s sleeve, “and this, this is a good one. It keeps me awake at night. Well, lots of things keep me awake at night. Thandie, I sailed on Ark Three, myself. And I saw Ark One fly off, or I believe I did. But-”

A gust of wind brought the waves crashing over the rock, and for an instant it was covered entirely by the water. Even the flag got a soaking. The wave washed away, and the rock rose in the air again, but it was wet now and it obviously wasn’t going to show for much longer.

Another wave broke. The rock didn’t reappear. A kind of ragged cheer broke out across the rafts.

The moment was over. The little band of rafts began to break up. Everybody started talking about real things like fishing, and if it would rain today, turning their backs on the rock. Boris gazed at that tire swing, longing to try it out. It was the most wonderful thing he had ever seen.

Grannie Lily still plucked at Thandie’s sleeve. “But,” she whispered, “but, Thandie- what is Ark Two?”