Published: 2025-10-04

In the year following the construction of the underwater city, climatologist Ramón Fernández tried to warn the newly established government about the futility of declaring war against nature; they didn’t listen. It was more important to maintain the appearance of a capable government than to care for the well-being of the citizens in the long term; they needed to collect taxes now, everything else could wait. It would take several years for Ramón’s prophecy to come to fruition. The city was doomed to fail from the beginning.

High-ranking officials met in a room. Sitting at one end of the big, rectangular table, the president was concerned. His ears were red hot, and his expression was unpleasant. He tapped his foot under the table while the rest of those present sat quietly. A man entered the room and everyone turned their head towards him. It was Alonso Martínez, the minister of public relations. “Good morning, gentlemen. I apologize for being late.” He said.

“Apologies won’t cut it, Mr. Martínez. We have been waiting to hear your report for half an hour.” The president said.
“That’s precisely the reason I took extra time, Mr. President. If you allow me, I’ll start immediately.”

The president motioned in approval, and Martínez walked to the end of the table opposite the president, where a whiteboard covered the entire wall.

“Gentlemen, as you might know, the city of New Beijing has developed a new technology to harvest the power of the sun, which gives them the edge in the new global economy. This technology opens the doors to a more advanced world; from electricity to agriculture, anything is possible now.”
“How does this affect us?” Said Pedro Rodríguez, minister of defense.
“The technology itself poses no immediate threat to national security, but it certainly has the potential to enable warfare technology. In addition, several cities have already expressed interest in the technology, which gives New Beijing new geopolitical influence.” Alonso Martínez said.
“Can we counter by developing the same technology?” The president asked.
“Financing the constant trips to the surface has taken a toll on the national funds; funding the research and development of new technology, and even more so, competing with a power like New Beijing will bankrupt us.” Said José Gómez, minister of treasury.

The president put both hands on top of the table and spread his fingers; he stood up. Pacing the room as if the act helped him think clearly, he said, “You are telling me we are to surrender our global influence to New Beijing and that, on top of that, we are broken? Are we going to surrender the global influence of our nation after hundreds of years?”

“Sir, if you allow me.” Pedro Rodríguez said.
“Please.”
“I say we go to war, sir.”

The room fell silent at the suggestion of the minister of defense.

“Go on.” The president said.
“We have weapons, we have people. There are men and women stranded on the surface who would gladly take arms in our favor if we offered them asylum for their families. We kick their ass and take their technology, sir.”

The conversation had shifted; now they talked of war not as a possibility, but as the only viable solution. There was no turning back now.

Ramón Fernández, once minister of research and development, was now a social recluse who spent his days writing about the effects of living underwater. The news of New Beijing developing a technology to harvest the power of the sun brought joy and hope to the outcast man. He was among the first to publicly congratulate the city for the development, which he called “a giant step towards a better society.” But Ramón didn’t ignore the national reality; he knew that the city could not sustain itself for much longer and that the constant trips to the surface had probably eaten through the funds. Sooner or later, the city would have to make a decision: fight for survival or resign themselves to annihilation.

But Ramón had other concerns for the future. The constant trips to the surface meant constant pressurization and depressurization, which weakened the structure of the material from which they built the dome. If they couldn’t cut their dependency from the surface, the entire city was at risk of disappearing, engulfed by the sea, crushed by the pressure, like a new Atlantis.

Ramón’s poor career in politics and the hesitancy of the government to consider his advice had turned him into a shell of a man, but he knew he should try to warn those in power of the looming danger once again. He wrestled with his thoughts; on the one hand, his love for life wouldn’t let him endanger it, on the other, the government’s ineptitude and lack of vision made him doubt. Putting his doubts aside, he started writing a new email.

The city decided to go to war, claiming New Beijing’s technology posed a risk to their security and that of their allies. Trips to the surface became even more frequent, and refugees started arriving in the city shortly after. Women and children were provided with housing and food, while men were provided with boots and rifles. The moment of truth was near.

Ramón waited outside the president’s office with a black leather briefcase over his lap. He was instructed to enter. After shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries, Ramón cut to the chase.

“Mr. President, I’ll be frank with you. We are in grave danger. The constant trips to the surface, paired with the energy cost of maintaining more and more people, have taken a toll on the structure of the dome that protects the city, if you were so kind to read the report—”

The president interrupted him with a hand gesture.

“I’ll be honest, Mr. Fernández, I only agreed to see you because the current minister of research and development is very fond of your work and told me you requested a meeting. I appreciate your concern for the city, but right now I cannot be bothered with anything besides the war.”
“But, sir, if we don’t take action immediately, the city may be crushed by the pressure.”
“And I appreciate your concern, Mr. Fernández, I really do. If you leave the report, I’ll be glad to read it as soon as I have the time.”

That was the end of the conversation. The men shook hands, and Ramón left the office. As he left, Ramón could see a submarine heading towards the surface. “I guess I’ll have to send another email.” He thought.

A week later, the news of the collapse of the underwater city was still echoing; meanwhile, in New Beijing, they prepared to announce Ramón Fernández as a new member of the Ministry of Research and Development.

THE END.