Miss Loyalty, who could no longer get to work, was appointed Chief of Police to replace the late Caprice Le Mesurier. Nothing could have suited her better. Since the only remaining police staff were two female deskworkers, she donned the uniform herself, correctly tilted her body at an angle of twenty-six degrees to the south-southwest, and ran around Marine City investigating incidents and accidents as if considerations such as gravity were not an issue. If she spotted anyone trying to leave the City, she would take out her pistol and fire shots at them. She remained active even at night, when she would be involved in spectacular gunfights with the police boats as she tried to stop them carrying escapees to the mainland. With this, those left on the island lost their last remaining means of escape.
The alcohol requirement of the poetess Stille Hungova increased. If anything, the drink took effect more quickly now that she was living in a tilting world; she was more or less in a permanent state of inebriation. One day, she went out in search of more alcohol, and started to negotiate the southwest-facing stairs of her apartment building. As the stairs were originally inclined at forty-two degrees, the angle was now more than seventy degrees. She immediately fell, hit the road, bounced twice on its surface, then started sliding along it. Wearing an Oriental gown, she continued to slide along in her wholly unseemly state, then, after sinking six metres into the sea on the already submerged road, gently floated back to the surface. The crew of a tourist pleasureboat, carrying fifty-six passengers who callously wanted to see the tilting Marine City for themselves, threw out a life belt from a safe distance in an attempt to rescue her. No sooner had she been hauled up on deck than she started badgering the onlookers for alcohol, amazing all and sundry with her sheer pluck and courage.
In no time at all, the tilt had increased to forty degrees. Soon, people no longer knew whether they were going up- or downstairs. People who slipped in the street found themselves not so much sliding as actually falling down the road. By now, the only people remaining in Marine City were the Mayor Fedora Last, the Chief of Police Miss Loyalty, and thirteen other women. The only man left was the carpenter Stubber Nasamule. Determined to see the end of Marine City, he’d made his wife and children leave for the mainland, while he himself enjoyed the sight of the City gradually sinking under the sea. He fashioned a rope walkway that allowed him to crawl back and forth along the road from his home to the supermarket, where goods could now be taken for free. He also made handholds and footholds here and there on other roads to prevent slippage. He even made some on request for the remaining women. Even then, he himself slipped on occasion, once sliding tens of yards. But he was always sure to keep the rope tied securely around his body. Even if he were to fall into the sea, he was confident of his ability to swim.
Some of the remaining women didn’t need to trouble Stubber at all, relying on their own wits to devise means of motion. One of them found a way of moving from building to building using ropes. But such measures were out of the question for Fedora Last, on account of her obesity. Finally, she came to a decision and ordered Miss Loyalty to take her to the most northerly apartment building in Marine City. It was now clear that, once the tilt reached forty-five degrees, it would only be a matter of time before the city capsized completely. Under orders from Fedora Last, Miss Loyalty chained the Mayor’s body to a water tower at the top of the building.
Actually, the government hadn’t expected Marine City to tilt this far, and had tended to take a rather optimistic view of things. The assumption was that, once the sunken south-southwest section of Marine City’s base reached the bottom of the bay – which itself should only be sixty metres deep, at the deepest point – the tilting would naturally stop. But when the angle approached forty-five degrees, there was now a very real possibility that the whole island could capsize. Nobody understood why the bottom of the bay had become so deep. Not even the author knew. Some speculated that the base had sunk into the mud layer at the bottom of the bay, and was gouging out the mud. But the mud layer couldn’t possibly continue for a depth of several miles, and it was therefore decided, after all, that the reason was unknown. So, the debate now turned to urgent measures to prevent the City from completely turning over.
At last, the day had come when Marine City was predicted to capsize completely. An air force rescue team in a 26-seater V-107/A helicopter came to pick up the last survivors. One of its occupants was Rory O’Storm, who’d volunteered to persuade the remaining residents. The helicopter descended into the middle of the residential area and hovered at a height of two metres while staying more or less parallel to the ground. The rescue operation started. Realizing that to stay on the island would mean certain death, the thirteen housewives responded to persuasion and came out one by one. Stubber Nasamule followed suit.
It was almost midday. After passing forty-five degrees, the angle of inclination quickly started shifting to ninety degrees. Buildings began to make strange creaking, grating noises in unison, and objects began to fall at random onto the helicopter from buildings in the northeast.
The V-107/A had successfully picked up the thirteen women and Stubber Nasamule, along with two dogs and five cats, and was about to start its ascent, when Miss Loyalty, her body correctly inclined at 72.8 degrees to the south-southwest-by-west, came racing out of an apartment building to the northeast, popping away with her pistol, which she aimed at the helicopter’s rotor. Rory O’Storm, judging her to be no longer human but some kind of demon, shot her dead.
The helicopter pulled away and set off towards the roof of the apartment building at the northeastern end of the City. The intention was to persuade Fedora Last, still chained to the iron frame of the water tower there, to give herself up. Rory O’Storm called out to her.
“Come any closer and I’ll shoot!” she screamed back, brandishing a pistol that Miss Loyalty must have given her. “I’ll have none of your meddling here!”
“Mayor. If you stay here you will die!” Rory O’Storm tried his hardest to explain. “Please leave with us. Marine City can always be rebuilt.”
“Oh yes?!” the Mayor shouted back. She was looking up from what was virtually the summit of Marine City, which now protruded vertically from the sea on its side. “You men will just have a good laugh and say we told you so! Of course it won’t be rebuilt!”
“The angle has reached ninety degrees. Mayor. In a few seconds you will be sinking upside down in the sea. It won’t be nice at all.”
“Shut up!” She fired her pistol at the helicopter.
Dwooooooooooooooooooooaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrhhhh!
The collapse of the century had started. With a deafening roar, the northern half of Marine City plummeted towards the sea.
“I’m not going to die!” Fedora Last screeched yet, as she plunged seawards head first. “Even if I sink on this side, I’ll float straight back up on the other side, me and Marine City. I’ll show you!”
“It’s not a waterwheel!” Rory O’Storm yelled from the helicopter, which continued to follow her down. “You can still save yourself with the rope. Throw the gun away. Don’t waste your life!”
“Who says I’m going to die?! You fools! I’m not going to die, I am not! I’m going to float back up agebbo gabbo gobbo! Blublublublublub! Glugluglug, gluglug glugluglug!”
Upside down, Fedora Last disappeared under the sea. With that, the City capsized completely, sending up a massive column of spray hundreds of feet high.