How I Learned to Swim

Brendan Dillon

It all started when I found out that the Prime Minister of South America was a genetically engineered robot from the Marianas Trench. It's not like I was looking for trouble; I was just your average Albanian-refugee-turned-stockbroker, trying to make it in the world. But when I heard that nude singing telegram, I knew there was only one thing I could do.

But once I was finished doing that, and sent her away with a very big tip, I headed to the airport and caught the next flight to Cabralbanuelos, the capital of South America, and the artificial lung manufacturing capital of... well, South America.

The first thing I noticed about the city was the stunning view of the river, which could be seen from almost anywhere. It wasn't so much that the city had been established on a river bank, as much as the river had established itself through the city. The remains of a few abandoned buildings still poked up from the surface of the water.

The second thing I noticed was the Prime Minister's royal palace, which dominated the skyline. I snuck into the palace via the sewer system and began searching for the evil Prime Minister. But I was quickly apprehended by his Marianian security forces.

They brought me to the basement, which was half-flooded. I was strapped to a surgery table and injected with an IV. Before I knew it, I was unconscious.

Later, I awoke in a large tank of water. I panicked -- I thought I was sure to drown. Soon, though, I realized that I was breathing normally. They had outfitted me with water lungs.

As my outrage grew, the Prime Minister entered. "Good afternoon," he said. "I trust you are feeling well?"

"Give me my lungs back!" I screamed.

"I'm afraid I can't do that," said the robot. "And if I could, I assure you, you wouldn't want them. You see, we have raised the water level of the central river. Cabralbanuelos is now completely underwater."

"You bastard!" I shouted. "Why are you doing this?"

"It's quite simple. As more cities are flooded, people all over the world will be forced to accept our artificial lungs. Eventually, we will flood the entire planet, and humanity will be a solely water-dwelling species. At that point, the Marianas Trench will rule the world! BWAHAHAHA!"

"It'll never work."

"Oh? And why not?"

"Because," I said, "I won't allow you to turn the world into a bad Kevin Costner movie."

I went for the ceramic pistol I had hidden in my ankle holster, and fired. The bullet tunnelled through the Prime Minister's waterproof polymer exterior, exposing his electronic innards. Within seconds, he was short-circuited to inoperability.

In the six months since that day, I have been living in the swimming pool normally used for physical rehab at Walter Reed Army Hospital, and the UN is working to move me up on the lung-transplant list.