Yokohama Kaidashi Kikou Vol. 2

I enjoyed this. I’d been looking forward to it ever since I finished the first volume of beautifully illustrated stories. Lots of stories in this one, although some are very, very short. It’s a strangely beautiful world, this post-apocalyptic life on an island being taken over by rising seas, or perhaps sea is the proper noun. With the world ending, life goes on, and those left savor the little things, like tea, watermelon, and simple foods. And like a single small beach, a rare cup of coffee, visiting friends, swimming, doing nothing. There is a distant hint of melancholy, but not depression. It’s as if all of that has already happened, and people have reached acceptance of what it is. It’s known, for certain, that there is nothing that can change their fate. The utter worldwide destruction of most technology and industry would make it difficult to recover, but the world itself is ending, and that can’t be stopped. It is a strange premise to base a series of books on, but a compelling vision, nevertheless. A time to relax and enjoy what time is left. Grow watermelons, and buy and sell other food items, even with land and clean water slowly disappearing. It is a peaceful end for humanity and a few androids.

But what comes next? Even the birds will have no place to rest, to nest, to feed. There are fish that swim and fly. Will they inherit the earth? What of the human-like creature called the Osprey who appears and disappears? Is it an alien? A spirit? A fairy? What is its connection with humanity? Or does it concern itself only with the children? Will it survive? Is it real?

At this point in my life, the story resonates with me. I won’t survive forever, and my options narrow every day. In the story, the sparse clumps of humanity are widely separated, and the rising sea takes more land and towns, making travel less of an option, as it is for me. The rising cost of scarce houses now makes it impossible for me to rent one of those ever again. I can only afford cheap-but-expensive, lifeless apartments, and I must soon leave this nice place I’ve lived these past sixteen years for one of those. Or move away. At least I can go anywhere. Maybe I will. I crave love and excitement. Simple pleasures may be all I have left.