The Seawall
A sea breeze carried the brine of incoming storms as Captain Nera peered through her binoculars. The city walls shimmered with energy, a barrier powered by a rare $TIME device. Every few hours, this barrier rewound coastal storms just enough to keep them from crashing into the docks—a miracle for a place that once suffered endless floods.
Yet each rewind caused more ripples than just storm prevention. Soon, merchants discovered they could walk away from financial missteps simply by waiting for the barrier’s next temporal shift; petty criminals found their footprints erased, skipping consequences in the moment. Nera, who served as a junior Time Keeper assigned to watch over the barrier, couldn’t ignore the growing moral quandaries.
One evening, she confronted the city council: “This wasn’t intended as a remedy for regrets. It’s meant for survival.” But they shrugged off her concerns. Rain battered the barrier again, sparking arcs of temporal discharge. Through the watch’s feedback loop, Nera felt how each rewind jostled people’s memories, some losing entire afternoons.
Fishermen dodged their debts. Teenagers repeated the same reckless stunts. Arguments between neighbors never found resolution; they simply vanished when time lurched backwards. Daily life drifted into a cycle of short-term relief, never building toward true accountability.
One dawn, a heavier storm threatened to slam the port—far larger than the barrier’s normal capacity. Lightning cracked above the swirling clouds. Nera’s watch readouts showed near overload. The city stood at the threshold of a disastrous paradox. She radioed the council: “If we trigger another rewind, it might tear the barrier apart. You must brace for the storm.”
Panic swept through the streets as people realized no “reset” was coming. The storms—and their own mistakes—would remain. Nera turned a dial on the barrier’s control station, wresting it off autopilot. With deliberate care, she powered down the barrier. Heavy rain blasted the city. Waves pounded the levees. Yet the foundation stayed intact.
When the gale subsided, folks found themselves grappling with the real aftermath of water damage, lost property, lingering arguments. But in the new calm, something shifted. Neighbors offered real apologies. Merchants paid overdue fees. A hush of responsibility replaced the city’s reliance on convenience. Nera turned off the device's daily rewinds for good, letting it serve only when storms truly imperiled lives.
She walked along the battered pier, gazing at her watch’s subtle glow. The $TIME barrier had saved them from rising floods, but it took a genuine reckoning to save them from complacency. And though the sea would always test their resolve, Nera believed the city might now withstand more than just the storms. They might learn from them, too.
Micro stories are a content feature offered by $TIME's dev Woj. Handwritten and accompanied by art, they serve to deepen the story world we're creating here. Enjoy!
