The vision for the South Bay cities continues to expand. In particular, the vision of Rosecrans Avenue (among perhaps other areas of the near interior) being turned over into a canal, an inland counterpart of Marina del Rey, only surrounded by Coruscant-esque miles-tall buildings, is very compelling.
But then, it hit me: why not build the towers out with the assumption that the harbor will not only intersect with the ground floor of the building, but rather with the whole structure? In other words, a vertical harbor: elevators cradle the boats and yachts and ferry them to another harbor a few levels up along the building’s edifice, and so on and so forth, miles upon miles into the sky.
Imagine the core of a skyscraper consisting of a harbor, with the facilities and amenities arrayed around it in a ring, stacked, once again, miles into the sky. Together with hangars for aircraft as well as subterranean parking and transit hubs, this is an enormous and very heavy structure we’re talking about compared to a conventional building…but this is the mid 21st century of an alternate timeline where manned interstellar travel has already been accomplished: the yachts these elevators are ferrying have their own nuclear reactors inside!
So in this world…it might actually be feasible to construct such a project. Why not make this vertical harbor the centerpiece of the “Rosecrans Canal”? Indeed…why not make it the centerpiece of the entire city of Greater Los Angeles?
Background: the “Tower of Stars”
Already my concept for a follow-up story to “Children of the Storm” supposes that our characters return to the region in the year 2064, which is some time after the time “Children of the Storm” is set: 2045. As of 2045 the “Tower of Stars” is the tallest building in the world, stretching a “full five miles” into the sky. 5 miles, for reference, is 26,400 feet: our tallest tower in that world is not that much lower in altitude than Mount Everest!
Interestingly, looking back at my story, I don’t seem to specify where exactly the Tower of Stars is located, other than it being in the “real downtown”: the stretch of urban canyons containing the very densest built environment of the city, a ribbon connecting Downtown Los Angeles and Santa Monica. Though since they have to board the subway to get to the tower from Santa Monica Pier, so it’s certainly not right next to the coast. It may well be located in Hollywood, since Hollywood answers to the geographic description given, and the theme of the tower is the history of the film industry (the “stars” its name references are movie stars).
In any case, it’s nowhere near the South Bay cities, despite them being explicitly described as part of the skyline, stretching contiguously out to Palos Verdes. So there’s urbanity there. We just haven’t seen it yet.
Upgrading Urbanity?
What if, between 2045 and 2064, it was enhanced compared to what we hear about in “Children of the Storm”? Rosecrans Avenue was likely already the Rosecrans Canal in 2045: the logic in a world of mass yacht ownership and underground car and transit infrastructure of converting it to a waterway just makes too much sense to resist. Especially since altering the coast from its pristine state is forbidden: beachgoers and surfers love it too much to tolerate any industrial development (hence why the ports and docks are all some combination of far offshore and underwater…which would be necessary anyway, considering the extreme global trade volumes, courtesy of the more developed economy).
But perhaps it was a slightly older development that was unremarkable. What if a visionary came in and wanted to redevelop the Rosecrans Canal area into the crown jewel of Greater Los Angeles, a bold statement of a marina city, the boldest statement a master builder can make: the statement of having made the tallest tower in the world?
The new Tallest Tower in the World?
The world I’m building is supposed to be growing and advancing, and having the Tower of Stars, cool as it is, be displaced as the world’s tallest tower by a new structure would underline that point, as well as tie into my existing concept for the story set in 2064. Why not just roll with it? Why not just make this most marine of all “world’s tallest structure” recordholders be right on the Rosecrans Canal? Why not incorporate it into the scene I outlined in my previous post on the subject:
So Georgia could dock her yacht perhaps even as far into the interior as Hawthorne (courtesy of canal locks handling the increase in elevation), her and Gunston able to walk off their home and enjoy a coffee and croissant at a cafe overlooking the water as they watch all the other sailboats pass by.
At five miles, or 26,400 feet (if not more…), the Tower of Stars is a tough record to beat, but perhaps advancements in the interim, and the determination of the master builder, make it a more viable proposition. For bonus points, have this new tower along the Rosecrans Canal be the first freestanding structure to peak out at higher than Mount Everest, at 29,032 feet high.
Call it the Nautilus Tower, after the fantastical and futuristic vessel of Captain Nemo in “20,000 Leagues Under the Sea”, which integrated the ocean into human life in ways hitherto scarcely imagined.
A Rose by any other Name…
For that matter, a harbor like Rosecrans Avenue will turn into in this world might not be deemed suitable to be divided between four (!) municipalities, as is the case today: Manhattan Beach, El Segundo, Redondo Beach, and Hawthorne (yes, I know Rosecrans Avenue stretches deep to the east, but the area I’m speaking of as the “Rosecrans Avenue area” is in between the coast and the San Diego Freeway corridor).
The whole area might be split off and formed into its own municipality. “Rancho XYZ” is a conventional choice in this timeline’s California, even more so than in real life, so to get that California feel I’ll go with a “Rancho” name. “Rancho Nautilus” is cool, but it’s the name of the tower, which likely long postdates the inland harbor. “Rancho Vela”, “vela” meaning “sail”, is appropriate, but just doesn’t quite make it. And “Rancho Rosecrans” doesn’t seem quite right to me, since General Rosecrans actually did have a ranch, but it was located a bit south and east of the area I’m talking about.
No, I’m thinking reviving the moniker “Rancho Redondo” might actually be the most appropriate move. Yes, there’s a Redondo Beach now, but “Rancho” has a slight connotation of being more inland (though there are entities such as “Sea Ranch”, which in this world are far more prominent and are also deemed “ranchos”…hmm…).
A “Puerto” name might also be appropriate, but that also has a more coastal connotation, which doesn’t quite fit. Though “Puerto Redondo” does roll off the tongue…but then again, a more inland, less beach-impacting version of King Harbor close to the core of Redondo Beach might already be known as Puerto Redondo in this universe, so the further-inland harbor area on Rosecrans Canal will need to have a different name. So Rancho Redondo it is? Centered on the Rosecrans Canal? With the showpiece being the Nautilus Tower? Honestly it does sound very much like something that an alternate-future California would actually have, so I think I’m on the right track.
Aquatic Life?
As for the actual development, boat docks and a navigable channel will of course be the centerpiece, perhaps recently upgraded to be deeper, deep enough for submarines to pass through and dock as well, as well as for larger vessels with deeper drafts. Artificial reefs might be employed to stimulate the development of underwater ecosystems such as kelp forests in the new waterway. This makes for a striking visual.
Nautilus Tower itself could feature large aquaria that extend reefs and kelp forests upwards into the building’s structure, allowing guests to interact with the aquatic environment. Fish, crustaceans, mollusks, and various forms of seaweed could be grown and even sustainably harvested within this vast structure. Accesses for wildlife could be employed, permitting harbor seals and sea lions to roam freely about the vertically-stacked harbors. Bird nesting sites could be provided for within the structure, encouraging seabirds to colonize the expanse.
And in addition, there are vertically stacked gardens with blooming flowers, native trees, and xeric plants in the sections not given over to water, which provide a sustainable and breathtaking environment for human and animal life alike. The architecture of the tower is oriented, like the rest of the development, toward providing as open an airflow as feasible for the guests, so think big airy archways, cathedral ceilings, wide-open windows, and balconies and skylights and mirrors that capture and reflect sunlight.
The water orientation might also be reflected in saltwater pools and bathtubs having a place of prominence in the development’s culture: think swim-in movie theaters where seats are submerged within the heated water and cocktails are served by robots. Other saltwater pools might have waterfalls cascading down into them, creating a more dynamic effect. Ditto for fountains and meditative Zen gardens and the like. And so on and so forth.
The architecture of the whole development might be designed to be organic and flowing, almost as if it’s one giant coral reef-type organism itself, flowing, curvy, organic forms given over to water features and plant life.
Dark Skies over Los Angeles?
And don’t forget, as per the dark sky regime of this world, nighttime lighting is generally red in color and is directed downward toward the ground. This leads to a striking visual effect where sailboats cruise down the canal with red running lights in silence, like ghosts. Even the streets are fairly quiet, in the absence of cars, trucks, or trains to make a mechanical racket: the noisiest vehicle above ground would be the electric bicycle…until you reach the altitudes at which aircraft flit to and fro these towers, but even then many of them are nearly silent zeppelins, and even the much noisier tiltrotors might be at such a remove it wouldn’t matter too much, considering the sheer expanse of vertical sprawl. Certainly their running lights aren’t too bright…
In the absence of intense light pollution, the stars may be seen much clearer and more numerous than today even in a place like Rancho Redondo, though it still wouldn’t be pristine…at least from the ground. Considering that the red lights are directed downward and the extreme heights that Nautilus Tower reaches, light pollution in its uppermost reaches might be strikingly low for being right in the middle of the largest city in the world. Oh, it wouldn’t be pristine conditions like in Death Valley, but penthouse denizens on their balconies might easily experience a night sky reserved for residents of the countryside today. Perhaps Bortle 4 conditions: artificial skyglow would be readily apparent, yes, but the Milky Way and its structure would be easily visible to the naked eye. Wild for being right in the middle of a city.
The intersection of good stargazing and the cutting-edge marina city concept could mean celestial and sailing themes could figure prominently in the aesthetic of both Nautilus Tower and the redeveloped Rosecrans Canal…and that is doubly likely, since during this time the manned expedition to Proxima Centauri is underway, and it uses solar sails in a prominent role. It’s all just too perfect.
Conclusion
I think I have a potentially really rich vein of worldbuilding here, and together with the broader ideas I’m working with for the setting and characters of the world of 2064, I might have something really good cooking for a story…I’m liking this.