Backwaters of Beauty - Chapter 1

I've decided to begin posting sections of Backwaters of Beauty, my in-progress novel. This book is very different for me, in that it takes place far in the future and is probably best described as science fiction.

The story follows a post-apocalyptic society in coastal Southern California that is literally living off the ruins of the much more technologically sophisticated and populous one that preceded it. Events revolve around a protagonist named Skip Woodard, who is a "miner," someone whose job it is to explore the remains of nearby "Ancient City" and search for "wealth." The small civilization to which Skip belongs has been living in the shadows of these domes for centuries and is very prosperous and peaceful. It is also located in a place of great physical beauty--a true paradise on earth. The problem is that this society --"The Towns"-- has attained its standard of living largely on the backs of their extinct ancestors; they haven't learned to truly make it on their own.


IT WAS A BEAUTIFUL DAY at the beach, one of those near-perfect days, actually, where the sun was shining bright and warm, while a soft, cool breeze coming off the water was nicely tempering its heat. I was sitting on a blanket, watching my nine-year-old daughter Molly run up and down the wet sand. She was playing with a young sea lion that was swimming just past the little breakers. No matter how fast or far Molly ran, or how quickly or unexpectedly she stopped, the sea lion nearly matched her movements and ended up being right there with her, bobbing approximately twenty feet off shore, in direct line with where she was standing. Molly was practically beside herself she was having so much fun; she was giggling and jumping up and down and occasionally making barking sounds in an unsuccessful attempt to get her new aquatic friend to say something back to her.

“Look, Dad! Look!” Molly hollered back at me, after her game with the sea lion had been going on for few minutes.

“I’m looking, honey,” I told her. “I’m looking.”

Molly started running again, taking off down the beach, while the sea lion dove under the water, so it could attain the speed to keep up with her.

“Go Molly! Go!” I yelled, while noticing how quickly and lithely her naked, deeply tanned little body was moving across the sand, and how wild and beautiful her long, sandy-blonde curls looked flying in the wind behind her.

I wish I still had that kind of energy, I found myself thinking, as I watched Molly again stop her running and begin jumping up and down in one place, while once more barking at the sea lion. Hell, I wish I had even a fraction of her spark after what these last several months have done to me.

Even as this thought was running thru my mind, though, I began to feel a bit guilty for allowing it to exist. Sure the work had been hard and stressful, but mining was what I did and I knew I should feel lucky and grateful that it was my crew that had made such an important discovery. Besides, it wasn’t just about me: it hadn’t been easy for Molly either, having me gone so much of the time, or for my sister and brother-in-law who took care of her in my absence. Let’s also not forget, Skip, I started telling myself, that your work is for a greater good, for the well-being of all The Towns, which makes it more of a duty or a calling than a job. If nothing else, I knew I should be thankful that I’d made it to the other side of such a difficult situation in one piece, that I hadn’t ended up like Maglio Flores, practically sliced in two by a force field that somehow didn’t kill him immediately, that left him several horrific pain-and-fear-laced moments to contemplate his ghastly and hopeless situation.

Still, I supposed it wasn’t a betrayal to admit that I needed many more days like this one in my life, more days of sitting naked in the sun on an empty stretch of beach, spending time with the most important person in my world. Nor, I was sure, was there anything wrong with my coming to the conclusion that I loved my daughter more than The Towns and that if it came down to again leading such a lengthy involved expedition or spending that time with her I was finally at the point in my life where I’d quickly choose the latter.

I realized even as I was coming to these conclusions, though, that fatigue and perhaps the shock of witnessing Flores’ horrible death were, if not driving them, at least exaggerating their reach somewhat. Deep down I knew that once I’d gotten some distance from my most recent mission and could get a little perspective on things my feelings would soften and I would once again start experiencing The Call of The Domes and want to get back to the career I started almost twenty-five years before. But I also knew that the previous several months had fundamentally changed me, and that I would increasingly cede to the younger, hungrier men the glory of the big discoveries and spend less and less time in day-to-day mining operations and more and more time in living all the other aspects of my life I’d neglected for so long …

Then, as if to add an exclamation point to these thoughts, Molly, abandoning her sea lion buddy for the moment, took advantage of my being so lost in my thinking, snuck up on me to my right, and then stuck her face right in front of mine, while saying “Boo!” This truly startled me. Seeing the effect her stunt had, Molly started giggling nervously in triumph. Deciding that I couldn’t let this victory of hers stand, I grabbed her and started trying to tickle her stomach, which caused her to both scream and laugh at the same time. She was a little greasy, however, with a combination of perspiration and the sun screen I’d put on her earlier, which meant I couldn’t get a good grip on her and she managed to squirm out of my grasp and start running down the beach. She wasn’t running anywhere nearly as fast as she was capable, however, partially because she was also looking over her shoulder every couple seconds, both out of fear and in the hope that I would be following her. Deciding that what she needed at this point was a continuation of my aborted tickle attack and maybe even to be tossed into the ocean, I sprang to my feet and started chasing her, surprising myself a little with the sudden life that had come into my supposedly exhausted and aching forty-three-year-old body.