The Maersk Oceania, a post-Panamax cargo ship carrying over 7,000 containers, belched acrid smoke as it listed slowly starboard and disappeared into Government Cut. Observing the scene from his mansion’s ocean-side terrace was Jerry Whitehead, a billionaire venture capitalist and Fisher Island resident.
“Totally worth it!” exclaimed Whitehead with a winning grin.
The catalyst for this nautical destruction occurred three weeks prior when a jet skier navigated within one hundred yards of the island’s south pier.
“I saw him! It was terrible!” explained Whitehead. “He could look into our windows. He could’ve murdered my wife! Or my mistress!”
Asked how he surmised the man’s supposed homicidal intentions, Whitehead seemed insulted by the question. “You can always tell,” he pronounced. “He had tattoos, and a gold chain, and…” Whitehead paused, scanned his surroundings, and leaned in before continuing in a hushed tone. “He was a particular shade of brown.”
Panic quickly spread in the jet skier’s wake. An emergency meeting was organized for Fisher Island’s 281 households, the highest per capita concentration of wealth in the United States. Naturally, it was solely attended by butlers, nannies, housekeepers, and other domestic servants with strict instructions from their employers, who couldn’t be bothered to partake. After all, “That’s what we pay them for!” insisted Whitehead.
A consensus emerged that the island needed to drastically upgrade its security measures. A fleet of genetically modified, hyper-aggressive bull sharks armed with excimer lasers seemed the most rational solution. Within three days of their deployment, the marine predators had sunk 23 vessels in Government and Norris Cut, completely shutting down the port of Miami.
“The crazy thing is that they started shooting down aircraft!” exclaimed Whitehead giddily. “We’re completely isolated from the sea and air!”
Whitehead blew off concerns that residents were essentially trapped on an island with dwindling resources and no way of leaving or resupplying themselves. When asked what would happen when they ran out of food, he replied, “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”
Fisher Island does not have a bridge connecting it to the mainland.
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