Quintessa of Valparaíso had been the only daughter of Chilean diplomats, who, pre-First Wave Disaster, resided at the Chilean embassy in Buenos Aires. Or so she claimed. Quintessa had never known her real parents and had grown up being passed between relatives until she was old enough to be considered a burden. Despite the rocky beginning, Quintessa was determined to make it – she had dreams, ambitions, desires – and she had the will to make them happen. Quintessa worked hard to put herself through school, learning English at night and perfecting her Spanish during the day. She earned degrees from Universidad de Valparaíso, a bachelor’s degree in International Business and later a master’s degree in Historical Studies: Culture and Society in Chile and Latin America. If the world had not decided to end, Quintessa would probably have been the very Chilean diplomat residing in Buenos Aires that she claimed to have come from. And maybe then she would never have met Max, and maybe that would have been a good thing. But that’s not the story we’re telling.

A week after submitting her master’s thesis, Valparaíso was lost to a brutal, twenty-foot wave attack. Overnight, it was smashed to pieces and dragged into the murky depths of the South Pacific. Valparaíso, with its colourful buildings, its vibrancy and life, was no more. On a smaller scale, similar wave attacks had pecked at the Chilean coastline, but these had been dismissed as freak accidents, a weather phenomenon that would come and go, a footnote in Chile’s history. Definitely not an apocalypse. So, when the sea swallowed Valparaíso and left a dent in South America, the entire world took notice. Not that the entire world actually did anything, they just watched and hoped it wasn’t their Valparaíso next.

The city was lost. Nothing could be salvaged. And just like that, the apocalypse began. The first one, that is. We’ll come to the others.

Quintessa, unlike Valparaíso, was not lost. Only stunned, only confused and angry and grieving. The day she had submitted her master’s thesis she had taken her first international trip – first trip anyway, actually – to Mendoza, Argentina. A week of sightseeing, wine-tasting, culture drip-feeding later, Quintessa of Valparaíso saw that Valparaíso was no more. The news in the hotel reception was on. The reception was air conditioned, spacious, and tastefully decorated with gold accent pieces. The skylight had a crisscross pattern, cutting through the midday sun without obscuring the blue of the sky. Quintessa was waiting for the weather report. She wanted to know whether it would rain or not so she could choose her activities for the day. She sat in the reception, right leg over left, sifting through leaflets for museums, festivals, nature walks, Valparaíso. Valparaíso? She double checked her last sentence, no Valparaíso. She looked up, scanning the room for the TV. Finding it far in the left-hand corner of the reception, she squinted at it. No Valparaíso. Homesickness? She had never left Valparaíso before last week, maybe she should cut her trip short and – someone shouted to turn up the TV. The news anchor said that Valparaíso had been lost in a twenty-foot wave attack that scientists were calling the beginning of the end. A small crowd was gravitating towards the TV.

Lost, what do you mean lost, how can Valparaíso be lost? Quintessa’s mind raced. She edged closer to the TV. The news anchor said again that Valparaíso had been lost in a twenty-foot wave attack that scientists were calling the beginning of the end. When she got closer, she saw what lost meant. Valparaíso no longer existed. Everything that she knew about Valparaíso only lived only in her memory. The road she walked down for her night classes in English, the hill she sat on to open her acceptance letter for Universidad de Valparaíso, the party that she kissed the boy at. The boy! She hadn’t thought about the boy for a long time – because he was not important – but now he was gone. He and the physical evidence of her past were gone. Quintessa felt sick.