A peaceful sunrise over the San Diego pier creating a very nice sunny morning at the harbor. The weekend packed with people from all over, taking advantage of this beautiful day. These out of towners use all of the resources made available to them.
They scramble in between the five-dollar sunglass as well as the three for fifteen-dollar t-shirts, while heading to a unique, tie-dyed clothing store. A glance around the waterway one can see sailboats galore. Surfers on the beach. Families picnicking along the grassy knolls. Even a grandfather sitting on a park bench watching his grandkids.
Adam got up bright early that morning to do some old fashion research. Ashley did tempt him last night for them to go see a Padres game. The thought did cross his mind. But knowing Ashley, she would turn a day of fun into another excuse to find something wrong with his character that he is wasting time instead of working on his article.
With this thought in mind, Adam wants to show Ashley that he is not a failure. That being a writer was… is… a great career choice. He will start that newsletter about the comings and goings of the neighborhood of Harbor Shores. As soon as he hustles for good solid leads.
Watching the multiplicity of civilization pouring along the concrete boardwalk area of the community, Adam sees the real part that makes it run. The amusements and various boardwalk business is just opening up for the day. The customers come in droves to the sections where the tourist still are able hang out. Which proves Adam's case that fixing those others sections would have customers as well.
The tourist fill the picnics in the park. Not an empty space around. Many take boat rides around the larger segment of the harbor. There is even a planned car show at the end of the week.
Even though these stories are a nice way of gaining interests in the area, he smells a real story brewing. The one that, he hopes, will secure the area as the layback community that he and Ashely has grown to love.
He walks through a series of offices set into the shops by the boardwalk. Adam is not going there by chance. He has a lead that the main office of… ah… there it is. Silicon Beach Realtors. A receptionist greets him. Adam replies, "May I see the developer please?"
"Make yourself comfortable," she responds. "I'll see if he is in. Meanwhile help yourself to some coffee."
The coffee smells good. He walks up to the coffee machine to pour himself a cup, when he notices models on a table, like a giant Monopoly game. This must be the upcoming projects that the company is planning. As nice as they seem, the models are cold, with no life. Where is the fun? Where is the interaction with others? The buildings are too modern without character. Everyone looking alike. Even the colors are drab, not very inviting.
Besides how can any rendered drawings improve upon nature? The true charm of communities like this is the people taking advantage of the greatest feature California has to offer. The Pacific Ocean and its beaches.
****
As the mythological beast makes her way through the Pacific Ocean towards the coast, she spots a pack of Humboldt squid. She offers friendship to them, but they ignore her. She even bumps up to them in a sort of cuddling, but they push her off. Because of her immense size, it makes it hard for the Humboldts to ignore her. She does her best to blend in. As a pack, they head to fertile surroundings. They swim as one unit. The beast mimics their actions. Then the hungry group moves along towards the flow of the stream. Maybe there is some good eating over there.
****
Above it all Adam looks out the window of the offices of the Silicon Beach Reality and watches the view of the community. The waters in the bay looks so calm. He watches a seagull making a dive, kamikaze style, straight into the harbor. After a brief pause, it comes up with breakfast. It is strange to think that there are thousands of creatures out there each in a battle of survival of the fittest. And yet to those above the water, it's just waves of endless sea.
With this backdrop to mesmerize him, why would anyone want to change the already beautiful view?
The receptionist walks in, "Mr. Wilcox will see you now."
She leads the way to the main office where Adam sees a heavyset man in a shirt and tie. He is on the phone and seems perturbed. "We can't do that," he groaned. "I told you, we just have to acknowledge that things are going to be overlooked." He looks up and sees Adam. Then he goes back to yelling at the person on the phone. "You're right," he said solemnly, "I know you're right." He slams down the phone.
He walks in, "Adam Belfort." Walking up towards him, Adam reaches out his hand.
The man stands up and says his name is Edward Wilcox. He shakes Adam's hand and almost squeeze the life out of it. "Sit down, sit down." He gives a pitch attempting to sell Adam on the idea of being a future investor in the new condos. Like a used car salesman, he doesn't come up for air.
But, Adam interrupts him and tells him that's not what he here for. "I'm a writer and I am doing a story for the community newsletter."
"Never heard of it."
"Well, we are just starting off and searching for our first story." Adam uses "we" as if he has a staff.
"Of course. What can I help you with?"
"You do have a very nice village here. Lovely residents, inviting shops, good place for families to grow. The perfect middle class community."
"Yes, each community is a reflection on the person that runs it." Wilcox smiles with his mouth, but not his eyes.
Adam pulls back a pad and starts taking notes. "True. And the heart and soul of this community is the many residents that just love life here in Harbor Shores."
"Ah, the people. If they only had more to give."
Adam is not sure what he meant by that. "It seems that a beautiful day like today has brought out a lot of out of towners taking advantage of all that the current layout has to offer."
Wilcox walks over to his bar. "Yeah, but it's all a waste, losing money by the day." Pulls out two glass, drops a few cubes of ice in it, and pours a drink. "Damn community civics." He hands a glass to Adam, "Scotch and soda?"
Adam looks at it, "Ah, no thanks… too early."
Wilcox shrugs his shoulders and drinks Adam's glass. "I would have all of this fixed by now if it wasn't for the laws delay."
Like a stenographer, Adam writes down, word for word, what Wilcox is saying. "Shakespeare?" Adam asks.
"Never read him."
"It's just that you quoted Hamlet from the uh, um… soliloquy where he, um… never mind." He looks up with a furrowed brow. "You were saying?"
"What we have planned down the pike will be like nothing anyone around here has ever seen." Wilcox pulls out the plans and shows it to Adam. "So, what do you think of our future?"
"A bit scary actually. If I am being honest."
Wilcox' face changed color, "How do you mean. And please, be blunt."
"Well, being that my wife and I live there, I can tell you by personal experience that we all love the atmosphere as is."
With the glass of scotch in his hands, Wilcox swings it back and forth making a clunk sound with the ice. "It's run down." The sound is methodic and meant to annoy Adam.
"It was actually mismanagement that caused it. Had it been kept up, it would be sprawling with people who actually enjoy things the way they are."
"Shows you what you know." Picks up glass and swigs from it. "My research says otherwise."
"Research from corporate entities that have invested in your project. What do you think they are going to say?"
"What do you know and who did you get it from? You are not some kind of Conspiracy Nut are you?"
Adam feels that he has the upper hand now. He gets up and shows Wilcox his back as he walks around the room. "It's public knowledge. I found it on a simple Google search." He picks up a paper weight from Wilcox' desk, then turns around and faces him. "Unless you're hiding something."
Wilcox snatches the paperweight from him. "What are you applying Belfort?"
"Why, did I hit a nerve?" Adam walks around some more until he notices a rendering of a man-made lake behind the wall. By a quick glance, he notices that it is the same one near the hotel. "This lake looks familiar. Similar that is to the one by the restaurant that is abandoned."
"I think you are creating amountains out of mole hills. As you exit, you will notice that we have complimentary tin foil hats for your convenience."
"Ah, 'here's your hat, what's your hurry.' I know the bums rush when I see it."
As Adam leaves with his metaphorical hat in his hand, he is too dejected to notice anything around him. Maybe if he heads to the library he can find something in an old microfiche file that is not stored on the internet.
From his view of the Bayview Wharf, Wilcox watches another pretender sauntering away thinking he has the upper hand. Who does Belfort thinks he is? I have squashed people more important than him.
Wilcox picks up the phone. He yells at the person on the other end to do some research on an Adam Belfort. "Let me know what you find out." His eyes scrunch together. "Yeah, the usual rate. Find out where he is living." His face shows aggravation. "Because I don't know who he is, that's why. Just dig up any dirt on this writer and find out who told him about our project."
Wilcox does not believe Belfort's story about just doing a Google search. "Uh, huh. Let me know… I know, I know, but it will be solace to be on a familiar terms with something about him… for sure. And keep it quiet this time. There is too much leaks as there is on this project and I want to get a jump on the others."
Wilcox looks angry. This attracts those throughout the office, but they are accustomed to Edward's outburst and say nothing. The receptionist comes over to him and ignores his rants. "What am I supposed to do with this little ant?"
"You could get rid of him like the others," she says. "But, you don't want to put too much attention on this as there already is."
"He doesn't seem like the type that will just… go away."
The receptionist hands Wilcox a cup of coffee. "If you can't get him to go away, then get him to work for you."
Edward calms down a bit. "How so," he inquires.
She picks up a bunch of papers and restacks them. "After you get some dirt on him, blackmail him. I'm sure everyone has something they are hiding."
"Do you Suzy?"
"I'm an open book sir," said with a blaze attitude. "This Adam Belfort guy would probably love to keep whatever that may be, quite." The phone rings, Suzy picks it up, "Ah, huh… he is right here." Without missing a beat, she hands him the phone.
Wilcox puts the phone to his ear. "That was fast. Uh huh… good, good. A pension huh? Trace the source on it and see if you can cook the books to cut off his source of income." He looks perturbed. "I have my reasons, just do it."
Wilcox slams the phone. "You just can't get good help these days." The receptionist looks at him, but does not crack a smile. "Oh, not you Suzy baby, you're a peach."
****
It maybe all business inside, but to the rest of the world, it's summer time and everything Southern California has to offer. And just like how it's shown on sporting events on TV, parasailing and paragliding being the two features. If you just want the trill, but not the danger, then parasailing is for you.
There is a long line to rent parasails. Two people are fitted with a special harness. The takeoff is from directly from a boat. The launch is very slow. Then a few of them are floating in the sky, maneuvering with a tethered tied to one end. The entire trip is very serene and peaceful. Everyone is being patient and waiting their turn, waiting for the thrill to go up and enjoying the view of the San Diego coastline. A few whoop and holler as the glider dips up and down. Who would not want to try it? Rescue boats are there taking off the passenger and carefully putting in the next customer.
If you are more adventures, you might go for the more dangerous paragliding where the operator is pretty much in control. Parasailing, on the other hand, is basically like being on a Theme Park rollercoaster. All the thrill, but none of the danger. However, many seem to like the danger of the paragliding, as the line is just as long.
A confused middle age couple is not aware of the discrepancy. They are in front of the line and hesitate. "Are you sure it's safe Martha?"
"That's what that man over there said." She points to the other side with the parasailers. Everyone in the back of the line, grumble their frustration. However, one such young man with baggy swim trunks has no courtesy. He takes matters in his own hands and walks in front of the couple.
"Hey, wait your turn," the crowd yells at him.
He shouts back, "You snooze, you lose."
His friends join him. "Good going Bruce, now we don't hafta wait. Ha, ha. Suckers!"
When instructions were given to them, Bruce says, "Yah, yah, we've done this before. Just put us in it while I'm still young to operate the controls." They unfurl the colorful fabric of the gliders on the ground. Then they attach it to a backpack-style harness.
Bruce and his friends take off into the air like gangbusters. After doing basic patterns, they go into a zigzag series of sprints. One of his friends seems nervous. Bruce teases him, "The flying part is easy, dude." As long as you don't fly into the side of a mountain." He laughs. The friend appears to be too intimidated to follow suit. His two other friends are already chomping at the bit.
With the helmet in place, Bruce is ready to go. He leans forward like a leopard ready to pounce on his prey. He takes a few steps and floats temporarily. Finally, a strong gust of wind takes hold of the wings, and Bruce ascends into the air.
The ground below him is now two hundred feet away. He glances at his friends, who have not yet taken off, and they look like napkins in a greasy spoon restaurant, sprawled all over the place.
Soon, his friends are up in the air with him. The instructions from the radio inside of his helmet tells him to be careful. "Relax, dude, I am Superman. I can fly anywhere."
The guide in the helmet yells, "Right brake, right brake." But Bruce ignores him. Instead, he tugs on the left brake on the glider, and it turns left into a lazy S pattern. The other guys catch up to him. They do dog fight manoeuvres and almost hit each other. "Hey, let's play follow the leader."
One of the other guys said, "Hey Bruce… who died and made you God?" He scoffs at his commands. "Wusses." He is in complete control now. "Let's see how close to the bay we can get."
As he glides around, he almost knocks into the parasailers. "Look out slowpokes." He descends like a missile and whoops it up all of the way down. As he descends, he comes dangerously close to a yacht. As he just misses it, he clips part of the boat. He laughs his head off.
Then Bruce climbs up to 300 feet and performs steep turns. Next he flies the craft into a steep turn floating down above the water in a forty-five-degree dive. He pulls up just in time and avoids slamming into the water. But, he slips off and lands in the water anyway, unscathed.
Some minor bruises, but Bruce does not seem to mind. The only thing left to fear is drowning, but he swims well. Being close to shore the water is not deep. Moreover, there are no waves.
As he paddles, he feels something brush up against him. Then another one bumps against him. Soon something surrounds him. Before Bruce knows it, a swarm of squid encircles him. Panic sets in. At lightning speed, they drag the young man deep underwater before he even realized what happened.
Bruce yells out in agony. He desperately claws his way to the surface of the water. His friends arrive to help him. One of them extends a hand. Bruce reaches over. However, he cannot do so without falling into the squid infested waters.
At the scene is Karl Jensen. Quick thinking, he takes a metal pole and hands to the victim who screams in agony. Ever so close, Bruce just about grabs it. His fingertips touch it. Finally, his hand clutches the pole tight.
But, it's too late. The swarm pulls Bruce under again, never to return. Jensen watches helplessly, not able to do anything about it.
They all stare in stunned silence of the plight of their friend. Soon afterwards, a sea of red billows from the very spot. As a consequence, body parts float to the top.
Under the water, a feeding frenzy commences. Dubbed the world's most aggressive predators, the Humboldt takes their turn on the young man. Outfitted with an impressive arsenal of eight arms and two long feeding tentacles. Each covered in hundreds of tooth-lined suckers.
Each squid took part of the devouring of the fresh meat, with the exception of the giant beast. The Humboldts isolate her from the pack. They want nothing to do with her. The beast sees the others feeding and does her best to keep up, but she cannot get in on the smorgasbord.
The beast from Fukushima feels left out and abandons the group unsatisfied.