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Marcus wasn’t even born, when his father had established Van Zandt Water Solutions. Shortly after the Flood and the initial chaos, a group of wealthy survivors had realized two things. First, that the rooftop water-tank supplies won’t last for very long and that collecting rain water was a futile mission. Second, they had to find a long-term solution if they were to survive. By sheer good luck, Van Zandt Senior had the answer to everyone’s problem… He had found himself stranded in the same building with a marine scientist and a brilliant desalination expert named Nakamura. Van Zandt, who had already formed a powerful militia to guard his neighborhood’s water tanks, had quickly seen an opportunity… he had taken Nakamura under his wing and Van Zandt Water Solutions had been born. After his father’s death, Marcus had stepped in his shoes and solidified the Van Zandt rule of law over the Archipelago. He was pushing sixty now, but appeared at least ten years younger. With his ash-blond hair combed back, tall and slim, he knew he looked good. No one had patent shark-skin shoes and leather jackets like he did!

Marcus Van Zandt took another sip from the steaming cup and his eyes fell on the lone spires of St. Patrick’s Cathedral, sticking out of the water and now used as a mooring dock for rafts and various seafaring vessels… Those spires were sad relics of the past, no longer having any meaning, half buried under water and long forgotten. There was no place for religion on the Archipelago… Van Zandt was the one calling all the shots. He was the people’s savior, and the Greater Good Doctrine was their new religion! If people prayed, they did that behind closed doors and kept it quiet.

Van Zandt glanced at his watch, drained his cup and left it on the windowsill for the maid to pick up. He went down the spiral staircase of his penthouse, nodded to his butler standing at the door and took the pair of gloves the man was holding on a silver tray. Van Zandt loved these gloves and never went anywhere without them. Now, flanked by a couple of his guards, he was ready to start the day by taking the elevator down two floors to his boardroom.

“For the Greater Good, gentlemen!” Marcus Van Zandt greeted his Council members, who were already gathered around the long, polished oak table. He waved his hand when they rose from their seats to salute him. “Please, sit down,” he said. Van Zandt eased into the big chair at the head of the table and studied the men’s faces for any signs of discomfort… and possible betrayal… There they were, all his cohorts and partners in crime, waiting for him to speak… First, there was Vince Jordan, his Chief of Security, a large black man in his fifties. He had the habit of constantly playing with the buckle of the pistol holster hanging on his belt. Clasping and unclasping, always ready, even during their board meetings. “Can’t take your hands off your gun, can you Vincent?” Van Zandt said, jokingly. “No one’s threatening us in here!”

Jordan snapped to attention and quickly placed his massive hands on the table in front of him. His expression was that of a scolded child. Jordan was the spitting image of his father. The Old Jordan had been a high ranking police officer at the time of the Flood, stuck by chance in the same building with Van Zandt’s father. It hadn’t taken him long to assess the new situation and team up with Van Zandt. Surrounded with a solid group of armed officers, they had fiercely guarded the water stored in the rooftop tanks and everything else that was of value. There were fights, blood was spilled in the turf war that followed… many died in the struggle for survival… Later, when things began to settle down, Old Jordan had managed to gather all the remaining police officers, firefighters, security personnel, and virtually anyone who was carrying a badge or a weapon, and he had created the Archipelago’s New Security Force. All firearms were confiscated and gathered in one place, away from the hands of the population. Anything salvaged underwater had to be surrendered to the Security Force. Those caught with an illegal weapon were killed on the spot! With all the firepower on their side, Old Jordan and Van Zandt had established and enforced the new laws of the land. Those who rebelled against the Van Zandt Government were severely punished and paid with their lives. When Old Jordan passed the torch to his son, Vince Jordan had quickly become Marcus Van Zand’s second most trusted man.

Van Zandt’s eyes shifted quickly over to Ted Junior. He was Nakamura’s son and had taken the seat next to Jordan. He had also followed in his father’s steps and was overseeing the desalination and water distribution process between the Upper and the Lower Side. Van Zandt considered him the weakest link in his chain of command. Son of a scientist, the man was too soft and unfit to deal with the brutal realities of life on the Archipelago. His ideas of freeing up the water distribution, and increasing the daily rations were driving Van Zandt crazy. Of course, he would have gotten rid of Ted Nakamura a long time ago, but his hands were tied. Nakamura was the only one who knew the desalination formula, and he was the only one capable of making it work properly.

And then there was Duncan Roth, the Rottweiler. Marcus looked at the man and gave him a slight nod of appreciation. Duncan was something else! He was in charge of the Free Scavengers, of every scavenging operation and the distribution of all precious salvaged goods from the waters of the Archipelago. But Duncan was also an engineer and often supervised construction sites, making sure that none of the salvaged materials were being wasted. He was the only one on the board who held two positions… And the man performed both jobs with unmatched ruthlessness and superb attention to detail. Everybody feared the Rottweiler! And precisely because of this, Van Zandt trusted him even more. He was his best and most trusted ally.

Marcus greeted the rest of the Council members with a cold stare and waited for them to take out their handheld computer devices. Silently, he blessed his father for having the foresight to order the Security Force confiscate as many of them as it could. Before the Flood, most of these devices used to be phones, but they no longer worked as such. No one could place a call on them even if they tried… All lines of communication had gone silent decades ago… But as long as their batteries lasted, they could still perform other valuable functions. They were now used for organizing, record keeping, event planning, adding and subtracting, and the making of lists. Only Government officials of the highest rank were issued with such hardware, and Van Zandt had instructed everybody to guard them with their lives.

“Well, who wants to start?” Van Zandt eyed the group.

“I’ll start,” said a short, chubby man, clearing his throat. Doctor Oscar Zamora, the person responsible for assessing the overall health of the citizens, now pressed the screen on his handheld pad. “I’m pleased to announce that we’ve finalized the Departure List! This year we have a few kids among the group… According to our medical opinion, all of them are cases which are beyond any hope of healing.”

“Speak plainly, Oscar!” Van Zandt sounded annoyed. “You mean the kids are useless to us because they’re dying, right?”

“Correct, sir,” Dr. Zamora nodded.

“Well, if it’s for the greater good of all concerned, I won’t object,” said Van Zandt, folding his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair. “Losing young blood is always regrettable, but we need our Lower Side population to be strong and productive,” he addressed the table.

“Perhaps, sir, we should look into holding our annual Day of Pairing… Have it shortly after the Departure… This way, we’ll be encouraging the start of a new generation,” Dr. Zamora suggested.

“Excellent idea!” Van Zandt seemed suddenly very animated. “Find out who’s come of age. Help those boys and girls pair up… The sooner they start making babies the better. We’ll replenish our livestock on the Lower Side in no time.” Van Zandt laughed, feeling very pleased with himself. “Now, read that Departure List to me.”