Scene: A new life awaits

A group of people gather on the shore of an ancient island. Behind them, a volcano steams and rumbles, darkening the skies. Classic architecture has fallen or leans precariously.

Water washes up from the sea and spills over the marble walkway.

Ocul: New sandals then Rafus?

Rafus: Yeah, double platforms. They help keep my toga dry when I go downstairs to make breakfast. Bit scary if you tumble off them, but needs must eh?

Ocul: I’ve moved the breakfast things on to the roof. Luckily, the balcony we had put in to the bedroom makes it easy to fish for meals. That and, uhh, the amount of fish in our house.

Rafus: Talking of food, did you bring the items?

Ocul: Yeah. In this sack. Sacrifices I guess?

Rafus: I know this is a bit against the Monkey King laws, but it’s a bloody long swim otherwise.

Ocul: Yeah, but I’m guessing most of the secret police have moved on to guard to golden ships.

Rafus sets down a table, the water laps against the legs. He sets out olives, hummus, and a few nibbles.

Ocul: This seems a bit… Middle class doesn’t it?

Rafus: Hey, mate. We’re on the shores of Atlantis, ankle deep in seawater, while on top of the old library –

Ocul: The one they purged then burned?

Rafus: Yeah, which is why no one is going to look. Plus, is there any class left? Seems just court loyalists and the rest of us.

Ocul sprinkles a circle of salt around the plate. He opens some parchment and chants

Ocul: “Auctor adipiscing maecenas hac sem senectus potenti! Orci libero dictum convallis luctus leo, cubilia venenatis sagittis!!”

Rafus: We’ll definitely be on the Education Camp list for this bit. Power words on three… two.. one.

Both: “Oy vey!”

The two look at each other and times passes. Behind them, a temple collapses. Neither man seems bothered.

In the distance, a raft appears. Two people are onboard. They appear to be wearing dark jackets, white shirts, and shortened trousers covered in bright flowers.

Mx Darkwing, the Unseen Menace of Curs and Laggards: A hand please? Grab the rope!

Terror of Rulers, Twister of Words and Policy: I said we shouldn’t have used the helevator. Now we’ll have to swim back down to it.

Darkwing: It’ll be fine. We’ll just have a good soak in the sulphur pits and that nasty seawater will be a distant memory, old bean.

Rafus: Umm, are you the, uh, hellspawn?

Ocul: Have you got any other clothes?

Terror: I’m terribly sorry for letting standards drop. Both of our trousers were ruined by the coral we had to climb through.

Ocul: Sorry, “trow zers?” Look, it’s… it’s that they are a bit fancy and, umm, as you’re a man, wearing anything a bit feminine means you need to be deported.

Darkwing: I think you’ll find your quaint little gender binary system doesn’t apply to us.

Rafus: Don’t listen! This is that ideology we were warned about!

Terror: Banged to rights, there. Yes, human biology – don’t worry, you’ll discover it in a few centuries – is very complex and the shortcut of options A or B will… Well, let’s just say that sex, gender, sexuality, thinking, and all the rest is a great big rainbow –

Ocul: Shush! You’ll get us all deported mentioning that!

Darkwing: Why, because of the sexuality comment?

Rafus: What? Well, yes, but mainly because we’re not allowed to study the weather. I mean, things have been hotting up a bit here. That and the sea levels changing.

Terror: Yes, well that will happen if you burn the blood oil of the Titan your island rests on.

Rafus: Titan? But the Monkey King says that was false scrollage. That we lived on an island.

Darkwing: Technically, this is an island. It’s got rocks, sand, soil, and whatnot. But it is still on the skull of a deceased titan. Like so good lies, it’s a half truth.

Terror: A change from the usual incoherence, howling, and throwing… well, what monkeys like to throw.

Ocul: So, we’ve been mining through the bones and petrified remains of a mythical creature?

Terror: Look, just ‘cos your ruler says it ain’t so, doesn’t mean it’s not true.

Rafus: So, Atlantis? We’re sinking because we’ve angered the other titans?

Darkwing: Oh, hells, no. They’re all dead. The issue, my soon to be islandless friend, is you burned the oil, which heated the world, affected the ice caps, and to go for broke, you’ve been digging through the skull until it’s unstable. So, goodbye sky, hello seabed.

Ocul: What do we do?

Terror: Unless you can magic up some gills, I’d start building a boat, sweetie. That and get some maps to find the nearest land.

Rafus: The Monkey King says he has someone working on gills and glue.

Darkwing: Come on, man. Not even Adam was this gullible!

Terror: Plus he blamed, Eve, the naughty boy.

Darkwing: Yes, the classic excuses. It’s either “the devils made me do it” or “a woman led me astray”. The Fates preserve us from men who are stupid and in charge. Which brings us back to…

Terror: How are the stick on gill tests going?

Ocul: Well, there’s no official reports, of course. But I’ve heard the business leader say that the volunteers were not holding their breath properly, which caused the glue to fail.

Darkwing: So they drowned. Ah, blame the user.

Rafus: It’s terrible. It’s getting to the point where we can’t trust the chief alchemist who’s owner of Aplu’s Fish Waste Inc, to tell us what’s working and what’s not.

Darkwing: Funny that.

Ocul: But it’s not funny! Look what’s happened to our island, to us, our families.

Terror: I would say I am sorry, but I’m a psychic manifestation of evil caused by the collective unconscious, so it’s not in my nature… Where was I? Yes, you picked this leader.

Ocul: But he said the Greeks were coming for our gold, our women –

Darkwing: Funny you seem bothered about women when it comes to who’s sleeping with them. Not so much when it comes to keeping monkey paws off them or letting ladies choose to have a family or not.

Terror: The greek thing is a distraction. Any fool – except the one wrecking this place – can see the Trojan horse won’t make it through the sea.

Darkwing: Trojan seahorse?

Terror: I see what you did there, and no.

Rafus: Can’t you take us with you?

Terror: No. You would not survive where we are from. You have evolved to live here, on Earth – and yes, the philosopher is right, it is a globe and yes, it orbits the sun – not the other way. Best to protect your habitat and try to keep it, well, habitable for you and yours.

Ocul: But aren’t you… demons?

Darkwing: Or Daemons if you’ve a classical leaning, but sort of yes. Why?

Rafus: So, if we promise to give your or souls, can’t we have a wish?

Terror: That would be Djinn and we arrived on a raft, not from someone buffing an old lamp.

Darkwing: But why would we want your souls? We’re not playing some Pokémortal Go. Besides, these olives are just lovely. Treats and food snacks. Plus it’s a bit cooler up here. Or was, at least.

Rafus: Look [sobs gently] we’re at a loss here. The leadership have gone, the island is sinking, and all the gold has disappeared.

Darkwing: I think… you may need to rethink why your choose who you do to lead. Maybe even organise yourselves a bit more, be kind to each other, and oust the real demons.

Ocul: Is that it? That’s your advice and help.

Terror: You can borrow the raft. Best I can offer. That and, I hope when you’re met by new people, remember why you fled and that others have had to flee too.