A Day in a Life in After World: SoGlog Read online

Life in After World: SoGlog Southfield

  By Eric Johnson

  Copyright ?2012 Eric Johnson

  Online Resources

  https://www.ALifeinAfterWorld.com

  https://www.Facebook.com/ALifeinAfterworld

  A Day in a Life in After World

  This is a series of short stories based in the same world as the book series A Life in After World. Instead of telling the life story of one character, these stories tell the story of one day in the life of a person in After World. The stories should be able to stand alone but together they tell of a bigger story.

  After World is a world in which due to a catastrophic solar storm, all electrical technology on Earth failed. Because of this, most of the world's population died off. This period in the history is known as the Red Sun Millennia. Those that did survive had to fight, struggle, and evolve to survive. When the storm was over, the sun dawned on a new world with many different races of humans.

  Electrical technology is now possible, but it is forbidden by most because of the damage it did when it failed before.

  If you enjoy these tales, please purchase the books in the series A Life in After World.

  SogGlog Southfield

  The River Concourse was a great North to South river that cut through the country side further than most people had explored. In the far South the river broadened to the point of being over a mile wide in places. This eventually dumped out into a massive gulf.

  In a region encompassing a million square miles, all lakes, rivers, streams, ditches, and raindrops make their inevitable way into the Concourse.

  Traveling downstream on the Concourse is too easy and can be done on nearly anything that floats. Getting back up the river is a different matter. The only way to navigate upstream is in a very small craft keeping to the edges of the river, which is still extremely difficult, or to have an engine on your boat.

  Near the river delta a foundry had been setup by an off shoot of the Rafters. Here steam engines were manufactured and sold almost exclusively to other Rafters. A select few, for the right price, were sold to "Walkers".

  SoGlog Southfield was one of the Rafters. During the collapse of technology, Rafters were the people on the coasts that fled into the sea to escape and survive. SoGlog traced his heritage to Chevron Southfield 24; an oil rig in what was known at the time as the Gulf of Mexico. The founding of his line was from his parents stationed there when the Red Sun first rose marking the end of the technology era. It was nearly five years before a fishing boat found them. They had been living off of fish and collected rainwater. When the boat arrived, they, along with other survivors on the rig, climbed on board and headed back to the mainland. They saw the devastation and famine among the people there. They saw enough and gathered supplies and a boat and headed back for Southfield 24.

  SoGlog, like the rest of his people, was tall, lanky, and very strong. He also had the very dark skin of someone who had spent their life in the sun. He also shared another trait that set his people apart from other humans. He had rudimentary gills along the sides of his ribs. It was more like bumps that would swell and fill with blood when he was in water. The skin then acted as a membrane allowing oxygen and carbon dioxide to swap places between blood and water.

  This day found him on his steam flat pulling into St. Ellwood. He had a load of melons to trade he had gotten downstream, but he had another reason to be in town at this time.

  It had been a long trip upstream with multiple stops for trading and getting missives off to arrange his meeting for tomorrow.

  "How long are you in dock today?" A porter scrambled along the pier as the boat pulled in.

  "Till dusk." SoGlog stated without even giving the porter a glance.

  "What are you declaring?"

  This did elicit look from SoGlog. "I am not declaring anything until I have it off my flat."

  The porter stepped back from the tone of voice of the trader.

  SoGlog pulled a lever which diverted the steam out of the engine and shunted the fuel to the firebox. A hissing emitted from the stack as excess pressure poured out. He stepped from the forecastle console and walked up to the fore of the boat to loop a rope onto the pillar. The porter walked quickly alongside him on the pier.

  "Excuse me?" The porter asked weakly.

  SoGlog looked up at him briefly as he changed direction and headed to the aft of the boat. The porter ran alongside him expecting an answer.

  After SoGlog had finished securing his boat to the pier he finally answered, "I will not be declaring my merchandise to some lowly dock stooge seeking to line his pockets with skimmed port tariffs. I am a member of the Concourse Trader's Union. I know the procedures and I know every porter scam between the Delta to the IceFields.

  The porter was knocked for six and speechless and back up to get out of the way as SoGlog stepped over the side and onto the dock.

  SoGlog ignored him and started towards the harbormaster's office. He was a quarter of the way there when the porter finally came to his senses and ran to catch up to him. Because of SoGlog's long stride, even at a run, the worker only just met the trader at the door to the office.

  SoGlog looked down at the hand covering the door knob then looked up into the eyes of the porter that was partially blocking him. The porter had a bit of a pleading look.

  SoGlog snorted slightly and reached for the handle but the porter went ahead and opened the door for him.

  "Master Ferguson!" The porter barked, trying to assert some control over the situation. "Pilot-"

  "Captain." SoGlog corrected.

  "Captain?" The porter's voice trailed off.

  SoGlog stepped past the porter to the harbormaster's desk and offered his hand in greeting. "Captain SoGlog Southfield sir."

  Master Ferguson stood and took the proffered hand and smiled. "Pleased to meet you."

  The harbormaster disengaged the greeting and gestured to a chair. The captain gladly took it. Master Ferguson dismissed the porter with a gesture. The porter left in a huff.

  "Southfield, huh?" The harbormaster queried. "There is a lot of water between here and there."

  SoGlog let the stupid remark slide. "And I love every mile of it."

  "So what brings you here to St. Ellwood?" Master Ferguson asked.

  "The Mistress Belcher brought me up the Concourse. I have a load of melons to sell."

  "They from out on the sandy flats?"

  The captain shook his head. "From off the west side of Coping Lake. Silt deposits there make for some sweet fruit."

  "So I have heard." Master Ferguson had a hungry look on his face for a moment then snapped back to his serious expression. "We have had some people trading in ersatz fruit here lately, I am sure you would understand-"

  SoGlog expected this, "Say no more Master, I will drop off a crate here in your office for your official inspection."

  Master Ferguson smiled and nodded.

  "And I will have the trader's union report the trade back to you so you can do a proper tariff assessment."

  "Of course, of course." The harbormaster said as they both stood up. "And do not mind little Frankie out there on the docks. You need anything, just let me know."

  SoGlog nodded and reached for the door.

  "Oh!" The harbormaster exclaimed. "I do have something for you."

  SoGlog stopped and watched as he went through a couple of drawers in the desk. "Here it is. Came in a couple of weeks ago and I nearly forgot about it."

  The captain stepped back to the desk as a sealed letter was handed over to him. In the seal was the impression of a diesel engine.

  "It
must be important." Master Ferguson stated. "Had a Johnson drop it off in-person."

  SoGlog started to break the seal but saw the look on the harbormaster's face and decided it would better to do back on the Belcher.

  "Will you need lumpers?" The harbormaster called.

  "If they are anything like your man Frankie, no thank you. They will just slow me down." SoGlog released the door and turned to go back to his boat. He nearly ran right into Porter Frankie.

  "Excuse me sir?" The porter began but trailed off as the boat captain ignored him and kept walking back to the dock. The porter then turned and followed him.

  SoGlog paid him no mind and boarded The Belcher. When the porter attempted to step over the railing that is when the captain started paying attention. He turned and stiff armed the porter which caused Frankie to fall backwards out of the flat onto the dock.

  SoGlog walked back to his cabin near the aft of the boat, this time he was not being followed.

  Inside the cabin, after peering out the window for a moment to assure himself that the porter was elsewhere, SoGlog sat down with the letter.

  It was addressed from a Douglas Johnson. SoGlog wondered what had happened to Paul Johnson, his original contact. After dismissing that thought, SoGlog broke the seal.

  He read down the letter, reread it again quickly and then slammed it down on his map table.

  "Serpents!" He cursed and stormed out of the cabin and off the boat.

  "You!" SoGlog stated pointing at the porter.

  The forcefulness of the Captain's voice caused Frankie to shake.

  "Y-Yes?"

  "Go to the trade house and let them