Short Story: Intentional Regression
In trying to follow some of my writing goals, I created this story for a specific short story submission. As you can probably guess, it was rejected, which feels like a right of passage. This was something I knew would be coming based on the many wonderful authors who share their own rejection stories. It feels good to get the first one out of the way.
Regarding this story, I did like how it turned out in the end. I’m posting it here to provide a signpost of my early creative writing, as well as providing a little content on the site. I have included some of what my influences and goals were with the piece. Feel free to skip by those if you just want to experience the story without prior knowledge.
Idea and Influences
As this story is focused on finding a better future, there are two real drivers that I was interested in. The first is the way our world is advancing. In a lot of ways, the world we live in today is smaller than ever. The way you can fly around the world for several thousand dollars is shocking when you think about it. This is also terrible for our environment, and it seems like saving our planet will require some regression in how we live in the near term.
I believe it was a Dan Carlin podcast years ago where he posed the question: What makes a more advanced society? If we have amazing technology available to everyone in the near term, but much of the globe becomes unlivable, is that more advanced than a society where we only use electricity for a few hours per day, but we prevent a climate collapse? This is something that has stuck in the back of my mind. As far as I know, no modern society has taken a voluntarily step back from “quality of life” technologies. This step back is a focus of the story, where the point of view character is forced to take a transatlantic trip onboard a sailboat instead of a plane.
The other aspect that I find interesting are the people who must be dragged into this new reality. We know from almost every safety advancement, seat belts, vaccines, and masks, that people will oppose even minuscule changes to their day to day lives. That’s where I derive the background of the PoV character, Grace. I wanted to see through her eyes the way the world was reverting and have her come to some understanding of this new world.
There are also hints in the story of how I believe we may actually make some of these changes, through a combination of technologies and legislation, but I won’t pretend to have all the answers on that. With all of that said, please enjoy the story below. If you liked it or hated it, feel free to contact me through the links on the left or drag me on Twitter. Thanks for reading.
Intentional Regression
Waves splashed below, seagulls squawked above, Grace trudged down the dock. Times certainly were changing.
The suitcase wheels scratched at the cement, while the wind stole the warmth from her bones, and left a pain in her bad knee. Here at last, after a hike that made the DFW terminal seem like a casual stroll. E25. The ship before her could only be described as a monstrosity, the unwanted lovechild of Pirates of the Caribbean and Titanic. Her grandkids would laugh at such outdated references. There was only one way she could afford to see them and this bucket was it.
She dragged the suitcase up the metal ramp, and the wheels groaned in protest. They halted with a click that nearly sent her over the handrail. The handrail Grace white-knuckled as she stared down at the churning waters.
“Mrs. Henderson?” The vaguely Italian accent broke her tunnel vision. Grace looked up at a young man who stood on the ramp. Definitely Italian, with a captain’s hat perched casually on his mop of brown hair. “Let me take that for you.” The English was rigid, but his smile was not. He lifted her suitcase with one arm and offered her the other. Perhaps this generation had only ruined most good things.
“Thank you very much, Captain.” Grace gripped his arm only marginally lighter than the handrail, which made the rest of the slog up the ramp bearable.
The Captain inclined his head. “Captain Ricci.” He rattled off a string of Italian to one of the other men on deck, who took the suitcase from the captain and disappeared below. The Captain continued, “We have a full load of cargo, so you are our only passenger. Your room is down the stairs, at the end of the hall.” He motioned to the stairs. “The galley is the first door on the right. The crew take turns cooking. Please help yourself at any time. We shove off as soon as the tug boat arrives.” With that, he strutted off to do whatever it is captains do. Grace figured she should find her room.
A jolt woke Grace from her nap. A glance out the porthole confirmed they were underway. She considered sulking in the cabin, little more than a hotel room, but knew she had at least a month for that. Plus, land was about to be a rare sight.
Half walking, half falling, she made it to the deck of the ship, a novel clutched in her hand. Several chairs were bolted to the deck, under a canopy near one side of the ship. A scramble across the deck left Grace out of breath, but sprawled in the nearest chair.
What must have been an ancient tug boat drifted casually back toward the receding shoreline. A peaceful send-off, promptly ruined by the airplane making its way skyward from the shore. Rich assholes. Times certainly were changing, but someone would always pay to be above everyone else.
Grace glared at the ascending plane when Captain Ricci wandered over. He shifted so easily with the motion of the boat and she glared at that too.
“Shouldn’t you be off steering this thing?” Grace said, with a tone she wasn’t altogether proud of. It didn’t really matter though. She wasn’t going to apologize to this child.
“The beginning is automated.” Captain Ricci pointed to several machines with cables wound through them. Crew members loitered nearby, occasionally checking displays. With a whirr, the cables started moving and gradually unfurled the sails. They were not white as she expected, but a mosaic of tiny black panels.
Captain Ricci noticed her staring, “Solar panels.” He pointed towards the deck. “They power the ship, with help from the turbines attached to the hull. They work like the Hoover Dam!” He sounded like one of the children from her old classroom, but Grace didn’t know how many American kids today would know that fact.
“So, you know your history. I’m impressed.” Grace gave him a genuine smile. “What did you sail before this?”
“It was the first ship I captained. An old container ship.” The Captain stared off over the railing. “She smelled terrible, but was much faster than the Phoenix here.” He patted one of the bolted chairs.
Grace leaned in to ask why he changed ships, but one of the sailors called to the Captain and he left with a curt goodbye. She glanced behind and realized only a thin strip of land remained on the horizon. Everywhere else was the rolling ocean, stretching into eternity. Damn her daughter for moving to London and taking the grandkids with her.
Grace settled in and started the novel. The waves slapping against the hull grated on her nerves. Every time she turned the page, she thought about where that airplane was now.
The days passed slowly at first, but faster and faster as Grace settled into a routine. She took her turns cooking, ate with the crew, lounged on the deck with her novels. She found herself admiring the vastness around her, noticed the colors shifting as the Sun struck the water. Seabirds were a rare delight when she spotted them soaring above. The waves shrunk from cacophony to hum, hum to lullaby, easing her into sleep each night.
Grace pondered why Captain Ricci had shifted to this boat. Perhaps the longer voyages let him contemplate this new world, or spend his free time writing his own novel. Maybe he was an environmentalist, who let his misguided idealism sabotage progress, even in his own career. She kept meaning to ask him, but the moment never seemed right. Truthfully, she might never ask, if only to keep thinking up new reasons as she surveyed the sea.
Grace was rocked from sleep. Gone were her rolling companions, replaced by something far angrier. The view out the porthole revealed a deep grey sky, and she hoped they would be moving away from it. She made her way to the deck, stumbling like her first day onboard.
Step by step she dragged herself up the stairs and was greeted by a swarm of activity. The sailors strapped on harnesses and life vests like soldiers preparing for battle. The solar sails were already neatly furled above. Captain Ricci spotted her clinging to the railing and walked over as casually as any other day.
“Grace, you should get below deck. It may get a little bumpy.” He reminded her of the harness and life vest in her cabin. The sky grew darker still, and heavy raindrops punctuated the shift. Heading back to her room seemed a good idea.
The walk to the cabin gave her too much time to think. What if this was why the Captain was here? The truest test of a sailor, just him and the ship against nature. Had she spent all this time with the crew just to miss them in their element? Grace couldn’t let that pass. She dragged on her raincoat and safety equipment, then headed topside.
Rain fell in thick sheets, wind whipped by her ears, whirring motors pulled the last of the sails in. Grace wiped her face and focused on her bolted-down chairs. She just had to wait for the right tilt of the ship, then she would run for it.
“Mrs. Henderson, you must get below.” Captain Ricci gripped the railing beside her. How he arrived, she had no idea.
“Captain, I’ve spent most of this journey on deck and I intend to see it through. If you would kindly escort me to my seat, I won’t trouble you until we are out of this storm.”
Emotions played across his face, shock to confusion, confusion to acceptance. “Right this way.” With his steady hand, the walk went smoothly. He tested the safety tethers attached to the chair before returning to the crew.
The canopy did little to block the rain, not that it mattered when she was already soaked through. She wouldn’t let a little water ruin this moment.
The ship was a mess of cables. Sailors unwrapped them from the machines, silent for now. Other men dragged fresh cables over and slotted them in place. Captain Ricci stood in the middle of it all, shouted orders she couldn’t make out.
One of the sailors cursed near the edge of the ship. He had fallen onto the deck, but was still tethered to the railing. A cable skittered out of his outstretched hand and across the deck. The Captain was already in the middle of the ship, grabbing the free rope, when a wave spilled over the railing. The deluge of water left Grace sputtering. She wiped her eyes and tried to orient herself.
The middle of the ship stood empty. Grace struggled to catch her breath. She tried to trace the web of cables. Which one had he held onto?
Then she saw him, plastered against the edge of the ship, clutching the cable in one hand. He pulled himself up, dragged the cable across the ship, and helped the other sailor fit it into the winch. Lightning split the sky behind him, thunder booming close behind. The Captain ambled to a radio tied to the base of the wheelhouse and shouted into it.
A mechanical whine joined the turbulent choir. Vibrant orange sails billowed from the masts above, beaming defiantly to the gray skies. The motors went silent, their work complete. The new sails kept the ship even as it followed the wind through the storm.
The sailors lingered at their stations, until the rain lessened to a steady beat on the canopy, and the seas calmed to a moderate roll. Captain Ricci went up to the wheelhouse, after motioning for another man to assist Grace. Dry towels and a warm bed seemed a fitting end to this adventure.
Waves sloshed below, seagulls called above, Grace climbed on deck. Someone had already taken her bag ashore, and she savored her final moments on board. The horizon stretched into infinity, but it no longer seemed so vast. She stared at the waves, and realized she would miss them. Her family would be waiting though, so she shouldn’t linger.
Captain Ricci stood beside the ramp, smiling more broadly than when she boarded. “Thank you for traveling with us, Grace. Enjoy your time in Europe.”
Grace had one foot on the ramp when she stopped. “Can I ask you a question, Captain?”
“Of course,” he said.
“Why is it that you went from a container ship to this boat?” Grace said.
The Captain thought it over for a moment, searching for the words.
“Some laws changed and now I make more money sailing this. If it paid more, I would sail a container ship again tomorrow.”
“Thank you very much, Captain.” Grace stepped off the ship. “And safe travels.”
Times certainly were changing, but people had not.
End