The Model Failure

 It was his first time going to the park on the little island. Sure, he'd heard about it from his friends, but he'd only just moved to the city. When they took him out one Saturday morning, he went in not expecting much. After all, a place called Mud Island couldn't possibly be that interesting, right?

He was surprised, then, when his friends took him across the walking bridge. The park was larger than he'd thought it would be, and he could see people milling about; tourists and locals alike were flocking to the island. In the distance, the excited shrieks of children could be heard over the low, steady rumble of the tram beneath his feet.

It was a beautiful day, warm and a bit muggy but not unbearable. There was a breeze coming in off the Mississippi River, cool and not as … fishy … as he'd thought it might be. His friends were around him, chattering and joking, getting into shoving matches over nothing. He shook his head and simply ignored their displays, focusing instead on everything going on around him.

It took quite a few flights of stairs and escalators for their little group to reach the ground, when he was assaulted by the sight of dozens of children – and adults – splashing in what looked like a tiny river. In fact, as he looked closer, he could see the winds and curves as water snaked around a bend.

“Hey, Jack, what do you think of Mud Island, huh?” Andy asked, nudging him with an elbow. “They recreated the entire river, start to finish. C'mon!” And suddenly Jack was being dragged towards the nearer end of the park, where walls of cascading water burbled around a common area.

“They match the water level to the actual river,” was Peter's aside, gesturing to the main attraction.

Jack simply stood gape-jawed with wonder. He'd never seen something so meticulously constructed. He stepped up to the edge of the miniature river, his eyes taking in the lakes and varying depths of the river. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted, of all things, a dam, constructed of what he could only guess was stainless steel. Water flowed over the dam's edges in a steady stream, though the bulk of it was trapped into a large lake.

“That's Lake Itasca, up in Minnesota.” Andy gestured to the pool. “It's where they say the main source of the river comes from.”

“Hey, guys, look at me!” Peter raised a foot, playfully smashing it into the tiny dam. “I'm a giant! Grr!”

They all laughingly took turns pretending to be monstrous humans wreaking havoc on the river. When it came to Jack's turn, he stomped the metal structure, jumping back in surprise when it simply broke. “Shit!” he exclaimed, leaning over to try and put it back in place.

“Leave it, man. It was probably just weak metal. They'll come and fix it.”

“Yeah, let's get away from here before anyone notices. It's cool, Jack, no one will know.”

He felt bad, of course, but they were right. Likely it had just been in need of replacement from the beginning, and the added strain of grown men playing around on it had weakened it further. That he had been the one to deal the final blow was just a coincidence.

They pressed on, following the river all the way to the end, where a large pond mimicked the Gulf of Mexico. They rented paddle boats, daring each other to races around the pond, playing chicken with each other. Jack ended up in one of the swan boats, and even though he was having fun, he still felt guilty about his earlier accident.

Turns out, he was right to.

It was the next morning when he heard the news. He had to look up the story on the internet to make sure that he'd heard it right on the television.

Dam at Lake Itasca Bursts, Cause Unknown

He received quite a few messages from his friends, exclaiming about the coincidence. Wasn't it funny that the dam that burst had been the same one he'd accidentally destroyed at the park? At least no one had been reported as injured – or worse – but it was still a terrible accident. It would take a long time to rebuild the dam, and a lot of money. Until then, the river would probably flood, especially close to the source.

Jack thought he'd managed to avoid his family's curse. He'd never had any problems before, so why now? Were they manifesting late? He hadn't wanted any of this to happen.

“That's a very odd way for it to manifest,” said his father, startling him out of his thoughts. “Usually it's drawing or painting or something.”

“It's still not a pleasant thing to discover, either way,” Jack replied glumly. “I can't just reach in and fix it.”

“No, you can't. And now you know to be more careful. No mucking about with models like that, not anymore.”

“That should be easy enough to avoid, right?”

If only he had known how wrong he was...