AMBYSSUS | Ch. 3 - The City Hall (Patreon)

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Joey gauged passersby's looks and facial expressions while waiting for the commissioner to appear. He imprinted the faces of those who showed fear at the sight of his uniform or the locotank he had parked in front of the city hall.

Some people looked scared but didn't evoke any feelings of alertness in Joey. Others tried to discreetly look away, embarrassed by seeing an official's studying gaze. Others passed by and ignored him as if he were invisible. He picked out those from among the crowd that made him feel alert and imprinted their faces in his memory. If he saw them again, he would recognize them.

This wasn't a game or a distraction to pass the time. It was more of a curse. He wished he could flip a switch to turn his hypervigilance on and off. He couldn't help it. Since his father died his nerves were stretched taut, and his senses were always on alert. It was exhausting.

He looked at his wristwatch. It had taken him less than an hour to get here. He spared a look at the large building with white marble imperial-looking columns. It screamed wealth and prosperity.

A gurgling noise could be heard from around the corner. It was a rumbling, mechanical sound. Joey could swear that it sounded as if the whole city had just burped from indigestion. That wasn’t too far-fetched of a concept, thought Joey. The problems that would result from this catastrophe would turn everyone's stomach.

As the neighing of horses and the curious glances from transients provided further hints at the commissioner's arrival, Joey performed his final checks to ensure his uniform was impeccable. Around the corner came Rhino II with the commissioner’s expressionless face behind the wheel.

As he neatly parked behind Rhino I, Joey stood at attention. Even though the environment inside the office was not overly formal, looks mattered here. The buzz that both Rhinos would cause was probably reason enough to attract the curiosity of journalists who would converge to the city hall as sharks drawn by blood in the water.

Joey saluted, and the commissioner saluted back.

"Constable."

"Commisionier."

Both walked side by side.

"Commissioner, was deploying both rhinos wise? The journalists will figure out something is wrong."

"Although our goal is discretion, here speed was more important." After a few seconds, he added, "Or maybe you're right. I panicked. We shouldn't have brought the rhinos."

Joey gulped. He'd never seen his commissioner so nervous. They silently climbed up the steps. It was time to see how bad things were.

*

Merchants from all industries and from all over the world traveled here to the oil market of New Lisbon to secure fuel they could bring to their businesses and towns.

Once upon a time, the auctions had been public and undisclosed. Everyone could see who was bidding and how much oil they were buying. They would stand before the auctioneer’s podium as they screamed their bids. Criminals had seen an opportunity here. By tracking how much each merchant was buying, they could plan accordingly.

Pirates spread like the plague. They would block railroads, intercept zeppelins, and sink ships. There was no way for commerce to prosper without security. Therefore, a series of safety measures had been put into place. Many of them had been set right here, in the auction house.

It all started in the lobby. At the entrance, credentials were checked. No one could enter if they hadn’t gone through a painstaking background check and been issued a license by the city. Once admitted into the building, all participants were searched, then shown into a cloakroom, where they left their jackets and were given a standard hooded cloak. With it, facial features could be hidden in shadow, and everyone looked the same, thus making it very hard to track who was going where. Geoffrey had always felt that coming to buy oil was almost like attending an eerie funeral.

After being assigned an escort, merchants followed one auction guard through a complex labyrinth of corridors. The corridors felt endless, and it was impossible not to get lost. Geoffrey had always marveled at how the guards knew where they were going. Occasionally another merchant following a guard could be seen at an intersection to their sides or beyond them.

Many times, he had nightmares about the specters of the auction house. Geoffrey wondered whose idea was to make the oil market so scary. Buying oil was such a terrifying experience that any criminal would undoubtedly shy away from unnecessarily coming here.

The guard finally made it to the boxed chamber door. Other guests were going into the neighboring chambers, but Geoffrey was clueless as to the identity of the bidders. He saw the number 265 on the door, and he went in. He had been assigned the boxed seat on the structure's third floor. The sound of steps above him hinted at another occupant’s arrival. Looking down, he had a clear view of the podium and the gigantic board.

The auction house was built as if it were an opera house or a theater, with one difference. All seats were boxed. All could see the auctioneer, but none could see their neighbor. Geoffrey searched the notice board for the average prices of the previous auction. The price of apple seed oil had lowered, but sunflower oil was rising.

Sunflower farmers were having many problems with aphids and other plagues of insects this year. Searching the information board, Geoffrey soon found what he was looking for. Sirenian oil prices hadn’t changed much in the past few weeks.

Dugong oil was priced at 100 crowns a barrel. Manatee oil was priced at 98 crowns a barrel. Steller’s sea cow oil was 123 crowns a barrel, and balatee oil was 93 crowns a barrel.

As Steller’s sea cow ranches could only be located in cold seas, the added cost of transportation made the oil more expensive. All other species of sirenians could be raised closer to town, in Lake Grassum.

The auctioneer soon came to the podium and gathered his notes of the listings for the day. Geoffrey selected one of the cushioned seats in the box and patiently waited. This was the only place where oil was sold in the city. Producers in the whole country brought their oil here to be traded and sold by the market.

The auction house took a percentage, of course. Even if a small one, the red velvet seats and the luxury of the box where Geoffrey sat attested to the profit they generated. The city also took a cut in the form of taxes on the sale. Taxes on the sales of sirenian oil alone were enough to cover the expenses of the whole city.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the oil market.” The amphitheater was utterly silent, and the auctioneer's voice resounded pleasantly and clearly in the structure. “We have a fine lot to present to you today, a wonderful lot indeed. We have over three thousand apple seed oil barrels, a thousand and three hundred sunflower oil barrels, and two thousand sirenian oil barrels. Don’t be shy. Don’t be shy! Let’s start with the first lot. Apple seed oil from the Smith & Sons orchards. Fifty barrels. We will start with sixty crowns a barrel. Who wants to give sixty crowns a barrel? The gentlemen over there on the red coat. Does anyone give sixty-one? The lady in that fine saffron dress. Who gives sixty-two? Going once? Going twice? Sold to the lady over there.”

The auctioneer sped things along efficiently and swiftly. The producer determined the size of the lot, and if one wanted to participate, they had to raise a small plaque with the number assigned to them at the beginning of the auction. Geoffrey’s leg moved nervously with a will of its own. They always started by auctioning whatever they had most in stock and progressed to the rarer lots of the day. Due to the problems with the sunflower oil this year, it would be sold last.

The timing was essential to Geoffrey right now. It was vital that he could achieve his goal for the day if things were to go according to his plan. After one hour, everyone stopped bidding on the lots of apple seed oil. The auction kept going for as long as there was a demand. If the auction grew cold, they stopped listing the product and saved it for the next auction. There wasn’t much interest in the apple seed oil today. After all, apple trees were having a good year and weren’t uncommon. Many countries raised their orchards to reduce the price of fuel.

“Now, let us move on to the next lot. We will start auctioning sirenian oil. Let us start with thirty barrels of dugong oil, raised right here, in our Grassum Lake by Wilson & Wilson. We will start at the price of ninety-five crowns per barrel. Who gives ninety-five? The sir right there.” Even though the auctioneer could clearly see who a man or a woman among the bidders was, to not give any clues to the bidder’s identity, he referred to everyone using ‘mister,’ ‘gentleman,’ or ‘sir.’ “Who gives ninety-six? Can I get ninety-six? Thank you kindly, mister. Who gives ninety-seven? Ninety-seven anyone? Going once. Going twice.”

Geoffrey raised his plaque.

“The gentlemen right there. Going once. Going twice. Sold! Sold to the gentleman with number 265. The next lot is for a hundred barrels of manatee oil from the Silver Ranch. We will start this lot with ninety-five crowns as well. Who gives ninety-five? The gentleman right there. Who gives ninety-six? The gentleman down here. Who gives ninety-seven? Going once, going twice.”

Geoffrey raised his plaque again.

“Ninety-seven to the gentleman again. Going once. Going twice. Sold! Sold to Mr. 265.”

The auction went on. Geoffrey kept buying lot after lot. The competition became fiercer, but Geoffrey didn’t even blink as he kept bidding. Soon, the other merchants just gave up on competing altogether. Geoffrey’s buying frenzy was driving up the price of the barrel for the day.

Geoffrey was sure that some more sensitive investors could feel something was off. They were probably wondering whether they should try to buy the oil despite the ludicrous inflation. Still, he doubted that anyone had the imagination required even to begin to suspect what was happening lakeside.

New Lisbon had maintained a steady supply of sirenian oil for two centuries. There were always more than enough barrels. No one wanted to buy oil at an above-market price. There would be more oil the next day. There always was. It was far cheaper to wait.

A big part of the business was understanding what the competition was thinking. From what Geoffrey knew, most buyers today had probably come here to secure the rarer sunflower oil. It had surpassed the price of sirenian oil a couple of weeks prior.

“Mr. 265 is unstoppable. 100 barrels of Balatee oil sold at 130 crowns apiece. Oh my. This has never happened before,” said the auctioneer. A mix of disbelief and something Geoffrey thought was embarrassment could be heard in his voice. “We are sold out. This is a fine day for the house! Thank you, Mr. 265.”

Geoffrey stood corrected. He had mistaken the auctioneer's emotion for embarrassment, but it was somewhat regret at not having more sirenian oil in stock to sell. After all, the more sales, the better. Perhaps this auctioneer received a commission on the sales. “Now, let’s move on to the star of the show, ladies and gentlemen. The sunflower oil.”

Geoffrey stood up and left toward the door. He knocked twice, signaling the guardsman that he wanted to leave. He pulled the hood over his head, darkening his face. The door was open shortly after, and turning into an anonymous specter again, he followed the guard toward the cashier.

*

"It's a disaster! A catastrophe!" the mayor paced in the office as he spoke in a nervous tone, uncharacteristic of someone serving in his capacity. Whenever Joey had seen him speaking in public, he had seemed so sure of himself, but now he looked like a frantic child. Fabius, however, showed his worth as a police commissioner and managed to remain still and unperturbed as a statue. Even though Joey tried to follow his good example, he couldn't stop tapping his foot nervously or fidgeting with his hands.

"The ranchers are panicking! The city hall guards have their hands full. Fabius, please send some officers here to assist us."

"Yes, Mr. Mayor."

"Sir," interrupted a secretary who knocked at the door, "Dr. Link and Professor Norris are here."

"Good! Finally, someone who can explain to me what's happening! Have them come in, please."

"Should we leave, Mr. Mayor?" asked the commissioner.

"No. Stay here. I want you here with me to understand how bad the situation is. Let's see what they have to say." The secretary came back with two aged men. One was tall, and his hair was a mix of grey and golden. He wore a dark brown shirt and a pair of beige trousers. He had well-defined features and was almost as tall as Fabius. Even though he was an academic, he still had tanned skin, looked lean and outdoorsy.

His companion was almost half as tall. He looked even more scholarly with his plaid blazer and thick glasses. His bald head somehow gave Joey the impression that his brain was bigger and made the man look intelligent.

"Gentlemen, please have a seat. This is Commissioner Fabius and Constable Joey. These are Dr. Link, a biologist specializing in Lake Grassum, and Professor Norris, a well-respected economy professor at Orca University. They are both Science Academy nominees."

"Good morning, Mr. Mayor. Commissioner. Constable."

"Good morning."

"Gentlemen, my aides have briefed you on what's happening in the lake. Dr. Link, what do you make of this?"

"Well, your honor, I have very little data to work with. All I know is what your aide has told me. The lake has flooded, and the water has somehow lost, at least, some of its salinity. Are you sure this information is correct? Are there water samples? Any measurements? Has any team been deployed?"

"No, Dr. Link. There isn't. We haven't had any time. Please, gather a team and take them to the lake. I want answers."

"Of course. We're very much interested in this unprecedented phenomenon."

"What's the worst-case scenario? Imagine that the lake becomes a freshwater lake permanently. What would happen to the herds of sirenians?"

Dr. Link scratched his chin, briefly simulating possible outcomes in his mind.

"We don't have to worry about the manatees or the balatees for now, and the Steller's Sea Cows are out in the ocean. Our greatest liability right now is the dugongs. They can only live in brackish and seawater. They won't take well to this change. Has there been any reports of dugong deaths or them getting sick?"

Joey gulped. His family's estates owned a herd of dugongs. He had hired a foreman to run the ranch and maintain the estate and got a monthly check, which mostly went toward paying his mother's medical bills. Even though he hardly went there, the animals were still his in name. He wondered if they were doing alright.

"No, not to my knowledge," answered the mayor. "Susan!" shouted the mayor, almost knocking Dr. Link off his chair.

"You called, sir?"

"Go downstairs and ask the producers if their dugongs or animals have fallen ill."

"Right away, sir." Joey didn't miss the small appreciative grunt from the commissioner beside him. It seemed that the mayor and the commissioner had a similar approach to managing their employees. Their calls were similar in violence, even though Fabius' voice was significantly deeper and louder. Sometimes, the glass in the precinct shook when he was particularly furious.

"So, if only the dugongs will be affected by the disaster, then we're safe. Right?"

"Hardly. Animals can be very sensitive to changes like this. Sea cows can avoid reproduction and even suffer miscarriages if they feel that the conditions to bring their calves into the world are wrong. Additionally, oil production is intrinsically connected to the welfare of the animals. If they're stressed and feeding on forage, they can't put on the weight you need so you can harvest their oil.

The unique conditions that make Lake Grassum the best place on the planet to raise sirenians are very delicate. We can be looking at a total disrupture of the food chain and irreversible damage to the ecology of their habitat."

"Mr. Mayor?" all eyes turned to Joey, who'd decided to intervene. The commissioner frowned questioningly at Joey.

"What is it, son?" asked the mayor.

"Even if the animals are safe, you must consider how the vacuuming parlors will be affected. After all, it's very sensitive equipment."

"Constable Joey is the son of the late Mr. Jebediah Jones, sir. He knows a thing or two about ranches," added the commissioner. Joey saw how frowns turned into looks of respect from scholars and the mayor.

"Of course, of course! You have the same eyes. That's where I recognized you from. Your father was a great man."

"Thank you, sir."

"Some producers mentioned that their parlors had been ruined. It's a good observation. We have two things to worry about. Your comment, Constable Jones, makes me think it'd be a good idea to have one discreet producer sitting with us to give us insights like this. I'll make a note here to call someone specialized in the repair of the parlors. It's a vital factor to consider. I also need to get a rancher who won't panic by my side." The mayor took notes as the conversation progressed. "Let's keep hearing Dr. Link about the biology side of things for now. Please, doctor."

Dr. Link continued, "I suggest studying the possibility of temporarily relocating the dugongs to the Steller Sea Cow ranches in the ocean."

"Very well. What else?" the mayor never stopped writing as the doctor spoke.

"An ecosystem is both a fragile and a robust thing. Even though many species will die if this sudden change has indeed occurred, others can survive and adapt. However, the lake's habitat will take very long to regain its vitality. We should ensure plenty of forage is available to get the manatees and the balatees through this change."

"Susan!" roared the mayor, and his secretary popped her head back in. Even though she was smiling, Joey could tell by her heavy breathing and disheveled hair that she had run at full speed to find the answer to the mayor's questions. "What did the producers say?"

"No reports of any animals getting sick, sir."

"Most intriguing," let out Dr. Link.

"Good job, Susan. Take this piece of paper. I want the finest mechanical engineer in town stat. Get me one of the calmer ranchers here too. Take Dr. Link and give him everything he needs so that he can do what I asked him. Hurry!" The mayor stood up, politely prompting the biologist's dismissal. "We're in your hands, Dr. Link. Regardless of how much or how little you discover, send a missive with all the information you collect by sundown."

"You can count on me, Mayor." The man hurried off with a vitality that didn't match his age. The mayor sat back down and focused his eyes on the remaining scholar.

"What about the economy, Professor Norris? What are your predictions?"

"It depends on how badly this catastrophe affects sirenia production. Even though apple seed oil and sunflower oil can be secured from many different locations, we can't make sirenia without sea cow blubber; over a third of it is harvested here in the city. If the world suddenly loses a third of its oil..." the doctor trailed off.

"What?"

"Well, the best comparison we have in history is what happened in 1843. When the number of whales started to dwindle, and the supply couldn't meet demand, there was a market crash, looting, widespread panic, and finally war." Joey shuddered at hearing this prophecy of doom. "Of course, this is a different situation; we're not speaking of an extinction of the sirenians, merely a localized ecological catastrophe. But if we extrapolate what happened then to the world and apply it to the smaller reality of the city, I wouldn't be surprised if the whole city descended into chaos. After all, no city depends more on the production of the lake than New Lisbon."

"What do you suggest?"

"First thing is to stockpile. Assess how much oil is in stock and ensure you can maintain supply during this crisis. Contact the oil market and ask them to limit the sale of oil immediately to avoid hoarding. Given the urgency, they might accept. Reach out to producers, warehouses, and anyone with a stockpile. We need to know how much we have and how long we can keep the light on."

"Professor, I would like to ask you to stay here for the day and have you manage this inquiry. As we hear more news, I want your opinion on navigating this crisis first-hand."

"Finleeeey!" roared the Mayor. This time a young man in a suit came in through the door.

"You called, Mr. Mayor?"

"Take the constable here and go to the auction house. Ask them to halt oil sales immediately until we can better grasp the situation. Be polite. We can't afford to offend them."

Even though the mayor had given an order to Joey, the constable still spared a glance at Fabius to make sure his superior was OK with it. Fabius gave him a nod, and Joey walked briskly toward the mayor's aide.

Now outside the office, Joey slightly relaxed and cracked his neck and knuckles.

"My name is Finley. Nice to meet you, constable."

"Call me Joey. Follow me. I have a tank parked outside. It'll get us there faster."

Ch. 2

INDEX

Ch. 4