Deadwood: The prologue

…They jump. For a moment, the world seems to slow down. Just the wind through their hair, the familiar stinge of salt in their nose, the ebbing and flowing of the water below filling their ears with its uneven noise. And then the ear splitting crack of their body meeting rock. And then darkness. Sinking. They are sinking, sinking, sinking until they hit the bottom. And then curiously, as if the ocean wanted to savor them, their misery, their darkness, the water continues and --as it does with all of its favorites--swallows.
And as the ocean does, it gets tired of what lies beneath its surface, and carries whatever it desires away to someplace where they’d get played with more. An ebbing and flowing of endless trade. And if the ocean decides to keep this human, forever, in its own little world instead of letting them go, then…I guess they will have to stay. Humans have always been at the mercy of water, just as they have been at the mercy of themselves, of their own kind. Selfishness has to be taught, and when higher powers are willing to teach, you have no choice but to learn.
…Without fail, humans will always learn.