Rising

“The superrich buy land. The ultrarich make their own,” the article began, which was enough to give Daniel pause. He’d been searching for info about the development for a school paper, and so far his keywords had lead him to the usual dry details like number of islands in the archipelago, the name of the dredgers used to construct them, how many billion metric tons of sea floor were moved.

The slight zing of recognition when reading the name of the island he called home had already worn off. He’d been researching several hours, but for the last he’d grown weary of combing each article, letting his finger lazily tap “Next.” The beach outside his parent’s estate was comfortably giving up its heat as the sun was about to dip below the waves, of late Daniel’s favorite time of day, the colors seeping out over the sky like it was hemorrhaging.

The article was written before the development had been finished, back when oil began its steady climb following the overproduction of the 1990s. Daniel’s parents had influence in Bahrain during those years and had ridden the tide since. When Daniel thought about wealth he often remembered Dune, and he’d wonder if Frank Herbert really meant oil when he wrote about spice. “The biggest addiction next to air and water,” his father would joke.

A strong wind pushed Daniel from his thoughts. The tide seemed very high. He wondered if the island was due for a storm.