Neptune was an old man. When his bones ached, he slept in the warm seas of Earth, a narrow opening in the water snaking to the surface so he could breathe. Such was his mastery over the one of the most singular elementals, he could do it in his sleep.

Tourists took cruise ships to the Indian Ocean where a faithful reproduction of the Taj Mahal shimmered, compromised entirely of water.Schools of fish flashed along its walls, whirled in the minarets.

The Aleutian City was a gift to the great Eskimos, in regard of their valiant assistance when the long dormant Behemoth from Space sprang from the North Pole. The city was a sprawling conglomerate of dome upon dome, resembling soap bubbles.

Original art that dwarfed Mt. Rushmore jeweled the long stretch of the Atlantic ocean. A vast market sank into the surf in North Carolina, a gigantic air bubble of commerce. In Vegas a towering champagne glass of water effervesced with swimming children.

They all wondered what would happen to all the water when Neptune died.