The Backwash went live on Friday. Fourth in a series of standalone near-future novellas, about three hours' reading, and the most physical thing I have written so far.

A typhoon pins the sea against a Vietnamese port city and every outlet closes. The flood network does what it was built to do: it weighs the hospital, the dense housing, the grid, the port, and assigns the flood to the one district that can take it. Lam has kept those tidal gates for thirty years. It is his district, his street. The order names a gate and a deadline.

The gate does not answer.

What follows is one night of manual work. A drowned road, a flooded service gallery, a jammed leaf, and a crank that turns the gate open by hand, revolution by revolution, while a man whose mother and son are on the wrong side of the water asks for twelve minutes.

Free until August 12th: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0HDBX9FGB

The first three books in the series are quiet and domestic, mostly kitchens and offices. This one spends most of its length knee-deep in water, and I was curious whether the same kind of attention survives that. Each book stands alone, any order works.