The Life and Times of Arty Scottsfield

In a day not too long gone by, the world was focused on going up and out.

Those also happened to be the days when the world was getting hotter, and the water getting higher.

Now, many cities are narrow strips of land connected by a few bridges, but most of the city, and the people in it, floated.  Skylines seldom stayed the same for a week at a time.  Oh, the buildings stayed, but their positions didn't.  Waterfront property became the only property.  Landlocked sites, few and far between, became highly desired and, therefore, highly priced.  It became common for folks to have a sizable boat and a small aircraft out of necessity.

Some of the old-timers mused of days when one of the few cities of canals was Venice.  To newer-arrivals, like myself, this Venice was now Atlantis.

And Atlantis?

Well, who knows where that went.

Nobody worries about population anymore. It's harder to keep four lil'uns in a moving, floating house.  In other words, it's taken care of itself to be about the size the world was in the 1920's.

Speaking of said era, know the saying "history repeats itself"? It's true; pretty much everything's like the 20's; the clothing styles, the people, everything.

Except, of course, 1920's Manhattan wasn't half-submerged.

But life goes on, as it usually does. Where there's a city, there's tons of people. Tons of people, bound to be discontent.

Discontent, plots.

And plots, trouble.

I know of trouble that happens around here that not even the dirtiest, lowest, nosiest people can find.  But I don't go making the trouble.

I just tell it; it's my job.

The name is Scottsfield.

Arty Scottsfield.

The End

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