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This Ocean Was a City Once By Spencer Rose

Naia opened the door to the roof access and carefully stepped out onto the unstable top level of the skyscraper. There were holes in the floor—some of which went down multiple stories—but she knew which ones to avoid as she weaved her way past the vegetable plots toward the communications tower on the far side.

“Come on, Meshki,” Naia coaxed, and the goose stepped out from the stairwell and hissed as the first spittle of rain hit his beak.

“We’ll be fast, I promise,” Naia said, but the goose looked unimpressed all the same.

“You didn’t need to come with me,” she scolded him.

She pulled a tarp from the storage box next to the communications tower and flung it over the top of the big satellite dish, tying the tarp down.

The sea breeze picked up, ripping through the little plastic cloak she’d thrown on. She had shaved her hair the previous summer, and it was times like this—when her head wasn’t whipped into a frenzy, blocking her view—that she was grateful for it.

She hauled a wooden lid over the potatoes and weighed it down with a concrete block to protect it from the worst of the storm. The lettuce was already covered with a plastic sheet from a storm a few days earlier.

The storm was one of the Westron storms that came out of nowhere, full of crackling lightning and an intensity that never existed before Westron Dynamics set up their research facility on the planet. The ocean waves were dark in the night sky, but she could hear the ocean churning.

“Okay, let’s get in before the storm hits!” Naia called to the goose as the rain started hammering like needles.

She skipped down five floors, then shoved open an emergency exit door. There was a faded sign that said there were twenty floors to go, but it was all ocean down there now. Just two floors down was the ground-or, what Naia thought of as the ground. Her village, once an expensive faux-land extension for a holiday resort, was now the island she lived on. Naia leapt down the final few sets of stairs and raced past the old rusty playground. She waved to her aunt, who was putting the shutters on the front of her house with her nephew.

Just as the heavens opened with torrential rain, she made it home. On the front porch was a bed for Meshki, and he snuggled down into it as soon as he arrived. Naia grabbed a towel and quickly wiped him down, even though he hissed quietly in protest.

“You’ll get sick,” she whispered, but Meshki let her finish without further complaint.

She headed inside, peeled off her rain cloak, and hung it up inside the front door.

Her mother scolded her as it dripped on the floorboards. “Put it outside!”

“It’ll blow away! It’s my best one!” Naia pleaded, pulling off her boots. “I think we’ll lose the carrots.”

“Well, they weren’t in great shape after the last storm anyway, were they?”

“No,” Naia agreed.

Her mother was sitting at the dining table, and she set down the shells and thread.

“Did you tie the tarp down on all four sides?”

“Yeah, Ma. It’s secure.”

“You know we’re waiting for a call from the lawyers. We don’t want the comms tower to go.”

Naia poured a mug of tea for herself and her mother and sat down. Hesitantly, she asked, “Hey, Ma? What do you think about a Plan B?”

“For what?”

“I mean… what if Wenstron doesn’t pay out? What if we don’t get the money? We can’t just keep living here, hoping the next storm won’t be the one that damages the only comms tower we have left.”

“They have to pay out, Naia. We reached a settlement. The court agreed that the executives at that company knew testing hydro-seeding on this planet would have detrimental impacts. They knew we were living here, and they chose to do it anyway.”

“I’m not saying they’re not guilty, Ma,” Naia said. “I’m just saying… they might not pay out in time.”

“We’re getting a call from the lawyers this week. Where is this coming from? Are you saying you want to leave? To go to university on Cassiopeia?”

“Ma, no. I mean… yeah. I do want to go to Cassiopea one day. Yes. But I’m saying we need a Plan B for all of us. We had three generators. Now we’ve got two. We’ve only got one comms tower left. Now our carrots are gone.”

“Naia, they’re going to pay. After a decade on this island, scrapping together supplies, after the payout, we can buy some of those greenhouses, like they have on Cassiopeia. We can extend the island. Even buy a ship so we can do our own supply runs. The payment will come any day now!”

“Okay, Ma,” Naia sighed. “Well, I have an assignment for school to do.”

Naia headed upstairs to her room and crawled onto her bed. She opened her tablet and closed it again when she remembered what it was about. It was a case from Wenstron Dynamics, from fifteen years ago, on a planet two systems over. They had been responsible for the environmental destruction of Nanflora. But they always found excuses to delay the payment by challenging small pieces of data to extend the lawsuit. For a decade. When the case finally had nothing else to investigate, everyone on the planet had died or fled. And they paid nothing.

#

The next day, Naia headed out with Meshki to sit by the ocean at the little lookout where she used to sit with her grandmother. The goose curled up by Naia and started dozing.

Across the waves, the tops of other skyscrapers still poked above the surface. Not too long ago, other families had lived in those buildings. They had boats and would row across to their island when they needed supplies. It felt like a real community then. But life had grown harder the longer they waited for the payout. More and more people choose to head off-world.

Her childhood friend, Trent, had left, even though his family had once sworn they'd stay as long as they possibly could. In the end, it wasn’t that long.

But her mother was determined to rebuild. They might have lost their original land, but they still had the pontoon. And she wanted to preserve her culture and customs as much as possible.

Naia patted the grass beneath her and whispered to her grandmother, “Would you want me to stay... or would you want me to go?”

When her grandfather died, Naia and her grandmother would sit here, talking to her grandfather. The spot always smelled to Naia like quicklime, but no one else could smell it. They’d visited every day for a year. On the final day, her grandmother had patted the soil. “Now, he’s made it to Daryalis.”

Even though they hadn’t needed to return after he’d made it to the next world, Naia still found her grandmother there on sunny days, threading necklaces. She’d always smile when Naia came to join her.

Now, the wind was light, but the salt of the sea was strong and sharp. Meshki snored. Then, a white cloud streaked across the sky. It was thin, like a brushstroke of ink against paper.
The trader ship had arrived.

It landed on the jetty to the east of the island. Emre and his parents climbed out, stretching their legs, basking in the warmth of the sun. Naia walked down to greet them.

Emre had thick eyebrows and an easy smile. “Naia!” he grinned. “It's great to see you. Can you help me with some of these crates?”

She followed him into the loading bay. Emre occasionally asked for help, but something in his tone suggested he wanted to talk privately. They began loading the crates onto the trolley.

“How's business?” Naia asked cautiously.

“Business is okay... for now,” Emre said. “But we're having trouble selling your necklaces. Our usual buyers just aren't interested anymore.” Emre looked away and then confessed, “My parents can't afford to keep coming out here. We're not earning enough from the trip. I know you're buying the goods, and we're selling jewellery, but it’s not covering the costs…”

Naia, pale-faced, finished for him. “...And you’re not a charity.”

He nodded. “We need to break even on our jobs. With the issues with Novadom, we need to change our flight path and… we just can’t afford to come all the way out here anymore.”

Naia took a moment to process it and then whispered, “Is this your last visit?”

“No. But the next one might be.” He softened. “I just wanted to give you a heads-up. I think my parents will tell your Ma later. But…if you need anything for the long term. Mechanical supplies, tools or generators. We’ll put it in the next order.”

It was usual for Emre's family to stay well into the evening, sharing stories and enjoying the food and company of the island. Sitting close to Naia by the fire, Emre said quietly, “I saw Trent at Phoenix Gate. He's working at the spaceport at Phoenix Gate.”

“That's a whole two sectors away.”

“They are always in need of farmhands. And they do have environmental displacement visas. You might be eligible. Just think about it.” He took a bite of his skewer. “If you give us enough notice, we might be able to transport a few people.”

“...Mum doesn’t wait to leave Gran before she arrives at Daryalis,” Naia whispered.

Across the fire, Naia spotted her mother speaking with Emre's parents. She could tell, even from this distance, that they were gently, kindly, breaking the news. Her mother's jaw was set in that familiar, stubborn line: one Naia had inherited. But her mother still believed the payout would come any day now.

#

In the bright sun, Naia sat on the grass with Meshki. A small pile of shells rested in her lap. She worked slowly, weaving them together with practised fingers—using the knots and loops her grandmother had taught her.

“I don't know what to do, Gran,” Naia whispered. “This is my home. But I don’t want to die here.” Her fingers sagged on the thread. “Would you mind if we weren't here to watch you travel to the underworld? I know you're about a third of the way there now.
But if we left... would you mind?”

Naia headed back home and carefully put the shells away in the cupboard.

“Have you checked in on your grandmother today?” her mother asked from the other room.

“Yes. I just saw her then.”

“Good. We have the call with the lawyers soon.” They settled around the dining table and turned on the holo-projector. In a beam of light, a woman sprang to life. It was Xander Schoen, the lawyer they'd been dealing with for the past four years. Her smile wasn't warm.

“Listen,” she began, “I've got some news to tell you—and it's not going to be easy to hear.”

Naia grabbed her mother’s hand.

“Wenstron Dynamics have reviewed some of the documents,” Xander continued, “and they've filed a motion to reopen the case based on claims of faulty evidence. They're claiming that some data from one of their atmospheric collection devices may have been flawed. They're seeking to overturn the settlement with a one-year extension to review the data”

“You're kidding, right?” Naia snapped. “They poured chemicals into the atmosphere to test their hydro-seeding. They knew what it would do. And now our planet is flooded. They did this.”

Xander replied carefully, “They want to ensure the evidence is correct.”

“They've had ten years!”

“I know Wendham Dynamics has a reputation for extending cases. But we don't have a choice. I know it’s bad news. But try to hold on a little longer.”

Naia made tea. She didn’t dare utter the words I told you so.

#

Naia was in her pyjamas getting ready for bed, and she saw a flash of lightning out to sea. “Ma?” she called out. “Ma?”

She looked in her mother's room and saw that she was asleep, curled up on her side, clutching her grandmother's shawl. Naia put a blanket over her, then she pulled on a coat and boots and climbed up to the top of the skyscraper.

Naia covered the vegetables and then headed over to the communications tower.

She pulled her navcom out of her pocket, where she had a saved message on her device. The application for an environmental displacement visa to Phoenix Gate.

“I'm sorry, Ma,” Naia whispered.

As she made her way downstairs, she knocked on the doors of her aunt and uncle and let them know that another storm was coming, so they could put the shutters down.

As Naia headed back into her house, Meshki stared at her pleadingly. “Okay, you can come inside, Meshki. Just for tonight.”

#

It was a wild storm. There was a whipping wind, and the ocean roared. Waves crashed up onto the island, with wet fingers dragging handfuls of dirt into the ocean. Trees collapsed. It felt like the gods of the ocean had something to say, and they were not happy.

The next morning, bleary-eyed, Naia started helping with the cleanup. She walked the island and found her mother kneeling by her grandmother's grave. The earth had been gouged out by the ocean, the soil ripped from the ground, and her grandmother's bones were now peering out from the earth.

“Oh, Mama!” Naia dropped to her knees and pulled her into a hug.

Her mother sobbed, howling like the Wenstron storm. Naia stroked her mother's hair.

Her mother rasped, “This is a sign. This is a sign from your grandmother. This is a sign that we need to stay.”

“Ma, what if it was a sign that we need to leave?”

Her mother started sobbing again. “I won't leave my mother.”

“Oh, Ma. I know. I know.”

They sat in silence, holding hands, watching the ocean.

“Ma, we need to talk to Gran for the next nine months to make sure she doesn’t get lost on the way to Daryalis. But we’ve only got food for six months. How specific is the ritual about watching over her spirit?”

“We need to sit with her bones and talk to her every day.”

“Does it say ‘bones’ as plural? Or singular?”

#

They’d fought. Again. And at the end of it all, at the dining table, Naia sobbed, “I understand that you don’t want to go. But I have to. Phoenix Gate takes environmental displacement visas and… I don’t want to starve to death, Ma.”

Her mother was quiet for a long time.

“I can’t lose you, too, baby,” her mother whispered.

“Then come with me.”

Naia put her mother to bed with a cold compress on her forehead, tucking her mother’s scarf into her hands.

By leaving, they’d lose the right to payment from Wenstron Dynamics. And they waited for it for so, so long. But with Emre’s ship no longer visiting, they just couldn’t survive. They’d become one of the sea of people who fought the corporation and starved before they could get their payout.

Naia headed down to the kitchen and began preparing dinner. As she peeled potatoes, her navcomm buzzed.

It was a message from the Phoenix Gate Visa office. She put down the knife and needed to read the message twice.

#

Six weeks later, there was a white streak in the sky. Esme’s ship landed for the last time on Moon's End. They enjoyed a feast of fresh fish and oranges. But instead of hauling crates from the ship, they loaded luggage onto the ship.

“You managed to convince your Ma to leave?” Emre asked under his breath as they carried suitcases on board.

“Yeah. It wasn't easy, but I showed her some of the court cases from Wenstron. We might lose the money, but we have each other.”

“What about your grandmother? What about the ritual?”

“There are a few ways to interpret the ritual,” Naia said. Her hand flew up to her necklace, which was intricately woven with seashells, and something in the centre that some might say looked a little bit like a bone the size of a finger. No one looking at it would know what it was. But she knew. And her mother knew. And her grandmother's spirit would be watched each day as it travelled to Daryalis.

Her mother boarded the ship and settled into the curtained-off area with the sleeping cots.

“You're heading to Phoenix Gate?” Emre's father asked her mother.

“Yes. Naia has got us environmental displacement visas.”

“We can get you as far as the Ogerlon system, and from there you should be able to catch a transport to Phoenix Gate easily.”

Naia's aunts and uncles clambered onto the ship, and Meshki padded in, hissing whenever anyone stood too close.

As they rose into the sky, they said farewell to their little village clinging onto the edge of a skyscraper. It was the first time Naia had ever seen her island from the sky, as they rose up into the pink-tinged clouds. Amidst the vast, wild ocean, it became a mere speck.

Emre pulled Naia aside. “Did you get into Phoenix Gate? On the news, they reported a housing crisis and were no longer accepting anyone. Even farmers.”

Naia kept her face impassive in case her mother was watching them. “If we turn up, they can’t send us home.”

Emre’s eyes widened. “They might.”

“Anywhere is better than here, alright?” Naia hissed.

“When are you going to tell your mother?”

“Not today,” she whispered, her eyes distant.

Naia sat down next to her mother, and Meski crawled in close.

They pulled out the shells and the string, and started to weave a necklace.

Spencer Rose

is the author of The Biokin Chronicles, a sapphic sci-fi novella series now collected in an omnibus. Her short fiction includes 'This Ocean Was a City Once', alongside other stories such as 'The Last Flight from Naas' and 'The Urvillion Pass'. Her next novel, The Princess Thief, is a queer retelling of The Goose Princess and will be published in February 2026. She holds a degree in Creative Writing and lives in Sydney.

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