The docks were full of activity, especially after recent events. Nobody had seen this coming, this was a completely unprecedented occurrence. After the assassination of Emperor Aurelius the Tenth, the new emperor seemed like the break we needed. But alas, we were wrong.
Those who had family or ties to the old lands went there, by sea. Those who didn’t, still went. And those who remained, had a great task ahead of them. The activation of the Centurions rendered the capital destroyed. The collapse of the palace brought an end to it, but the debris annihilated the surrounding area, even the Colosseum. Everyone took this as an omen from the gods.
There was one captain, one of those who chose to stay, who seemed oddly… stable. Seemed like he had already seen this happen. He volunteered his freighter to the immigration efforts, said he didn’t need it anymore. He had the wind blowing on his face, and he had his hand out to feel it. Only at the start of the new day did anyone see the rapier and gun at his side.
“Even here the gods have trouble, everywhere it seems” he said to me, “Here it seems their squabble only caused comparably minor damage, either that or we only see so far”. I asked him “What do you mean?”, he answered, “Where I came from, when the gods did this, the whole sea roared, Poseidon roared.” I asked again “Poseidon, the Greek name, why aren’t you on your way home?”, he responded with this:" This is my home, just bigger, and less water" he said with a laugh," Of course you wouldn’t know, would you like some stories?", before I could answer, he started. Stories of journeys of climbing massive pillars that reached the skies, of finding gifted individuals, of being blessed by the gods. He also told of sea monsters in the depths of the abyss, of tortured waters and hallucinogens. He spoke of flying cities and massive fleets, conquering the seas. He told of the friends he made, of friends lost. When I asked his name, he responded simply with “The Wind, Artemis Morgan.”
From his perspective, this whole situation probably seemed like an afternoon. The city lights automatically turned on, despite the destruction. I walked with Mr. Morgan to his lighthouse, where he showed me his spoils. All seemed from a separate reality. Most valued and highlighted were these: A newspaper page, a replica ship in a bottle, and a miniature podium of statues. I bid him farewell and walked to my car. As I reminisced on everything, I saw the neon lights of New Rome and thought to myself that we’d come through somehow. That there were days coming, at least.