Robots on Mars

Robots on Mars – Set in 2025. A space-mad city boy adjusts to life in the country and tries to solve a mystery.    (Note: no actual robots or Martians involved)

Kangaroos, Lone Pine Koala Sanctuary (Photo: M Griffiths)

Grandad used to talk a lot about the good old days but when they came again he stopped. Then he started talking about the bad old days instead.

The bad old days aren’t much fun. I know because I’m living them now. We came to live with my uncle and aunt on their farm. We left our house in Brisbane, got rid of most of our stuff, and packed everything else into our car and a trailer and drove to north Queensland. It was the longest, slowest, most boring trip ever. Luckily I had my video game player.

Welcome to this short fiction blog.

The stories reflect my interests: environmental issues, resource scarcity and also the history, cultures, and landscapes of Tibet and China.

The first six stories are entries in a competition hosted by John Michael Greer (Link here), peak oil writer and blogger. They each inhabit a post peak oil world where resources are scarce and industrial society is changing to something different. The top entries will be published a book. Wish me luck!

A previous set of stories was published in 2012 in a book entitled After Oil: SF Visions of a Post-Petroleum World, available from Amazon (Amazon) or in Australia from Fishpond (Fishpond).

I welcome constructive comments.

[Also see my new story: Beijing Private Eyes - A foreign teacher in Beijing meets an unexpected and attractive visitor in need of assistance. He offers to help and things begin to get complicated.

Read Beijing Private Eyes - Part 1  Arrival  here ]

Robots on Mars

 by Matthew Griffiths

 

Grandad used to talk a lot about the good old days but when they came again he stopped. Then he started talking about the bad old days instead.

The bad old days aren’t much fun. I know because I’m living them now. We came to live with my uncle and aunt on their farm. We left our house in Brisbane, got rid of most of our stuff, and packed everything else into our car and a trailer and drove to north Queensland. It was the longest, slowest, most boring trip ever. Luckily I had my video game player.

I’d been to the farm a few times before for holidays, but this was different. This was forever. And I knew what that meant. No skateboard park, no swimming pool with cool slides, no video game parlours, no multiplex cinema, no video game shops to hang out in, no beach nearby, no Brisbane Broncos rugby league team. No nothing.

               When we arrived Dad tried to make a joke. “Will work for food.” he said as he shook my uncle’s hand. Mum hugged my uncle and aunt. She looked happy. I suppose she didn’t mind so much since she grew up here. The fact that my Dad tried to make joke is a good sign, that’s what Mum said. It’s kind of because of Dad that we’re here, and the economy.

See, he lost his job two years ago. Mum said we were survivors. She and Dad kept their jobs even when lots of other people didn’t. Lots of my friends at school had Mums and Dads at home, doing odd jobs and just getting by. Some moved away.

Dad was a production manager at a factory. He had a big office and everything. His factory made important stuff that people needed so he said his job would always be fine. Then one day they shut the factory down. Mum said it had been coming for years and now it had arrived. Anyway Dad was very sad about it. He tried to get another job but lots of other people were looking too and he couldn’t get one. Mum said that made him even sadder. Petrol prices were very high and Dad didn’t need the second car so they sold it. Christmas and birthdays got a bit tighter. Mum said we had to watch the budget. Dad and me used to go to see lots of Broncos games, but after he lost his job we only went to one or two a year.

He stayed in the study with the door shut most of the time. First he just did nothing. At least that what it seemed like when I peeked in the window. Then he started reading lots of books. He also started playing his old saxophone, really badly and really loud. Then he made the vege garden bigger. He dug up half the back lawn. “Saves on grocery money.” Mum said. She said Dad had been reading lots of information about the economy and oil and other resources running out and getting expensive. We needed to make sure we grew enough food, just in case. Luckily he left enough lawn to play cricket. One thing Dad always did, even when he was sad, was play cricket and footy with me after school and at the weekends. He made us a solar oven too. That was cool.

               Then it got worse. Mum’s company cut her pay. Mum and Dad had lots of talks at night in the study after that. I tried to listen in when they thought I was asleep but I couldn’t understand what they were talking about. And then finally just before Christmas, her company went away too. I didn’t get that, how could a company just disappear? Mum just said it was all gone. Mum and Dad had another big talk one night and then we sold the house. For peanuts, that’s what Dad said. Mum cried when we left. Dad didn’t say anything, he just looked really sad again. I cried a bit too, secretly in my room. Especially when they told me we were going to the country.

 

               My uncle and aunt’s farm has lots of cattle and some sheep. Their house is a big old wooden place with lots of rooms and verandahs, good for sitting outside in the shade when it’s hot. Dad put our solar cooker out there for my uncle and aunt to use. There’s a brick barbeque at the side of the back verandah too. “Your Grandad made that himself, years ago.” my aunt told me. “When the power went off for a week after the cyclone last month we cooked on it every day, and the way the power price is going up we might do it all the time.”

Out the back they have a chicken coop, a water tank with a multi-bladed wind pump, some sheds for machinery, kennels for the farm dogs, some fruit trees and a horse paddock. My uncle uses horses to get around the farm. There are also lots of gum trees and lots of birds - Kookaburras, with their funny laughing call, crows with their annoying ‘caw, caw’.  The worst are the magpies though. Black and white dive bombers they are. In nesting season they attack you if you go near their tree. Scary.

It was the summer holidays so there was no school to until after Australia Day, the 26^th of January. At first I just stayed in my room playing video games and making up space stories with my model rockets and robot toys. I have to share a room with my older cousin. He is sixteen and pretty cool. He was only there for a few days, helping my uncle on the farm, and then he had to go on the bus to boarding school. The nearest high school closed down. My other cousin Alex is ten, same as me. Her name is Alexandra but don’t ever call her that. She doesn’t like playing with dolls. She likes animals, riding horses, and doing boy’s stuff, but mostly I remember her playing tricks on me with electric fences and cow pats. My aunt says she’ll get clucky one day. That’s weird, what have chickens got to do with dolls? Have you ever noticed how adults talk their own strange language? It’s really hard to understand them sometimes.

 

Finally the first day of school came around. I wasn’t looking forward to it. My aunt and Mum took Alex and me to school. As we got out of the car a man arrived on a bike. He was wearing tight shorts and a cycling top with those funny pockets in the back. Alex said, “That’s our teacher. His name is Mr Thurston-Hawley but everyone calls him Mr T., except the principal.” When he got off his bike some older girls pointed at him and giggled. They’re just silly. Alex told me he lives in a commune on a farm out of town. She said the kids there have almost no rules which sounded awesome, until she said they don’t have video games either. I didn’t reckon Mr T. could be a hippy though since he has short hair and wears lycra.

               In class Mr T. asked us each to introduce ourselves and say what we wanted to do when we grew up. I was one of the last. “Umm. My name’s Craig. I’m from Brisbane and I like the Broncos.”

“Boo.” said someone at the back. “North Queensland Cowboys rule.”

I kept going. “I want to be astronaut and be the first to go to Mars.” I said. “The trip to Mars takes about eight months so I'll take lots of video games and comics to read so it will be fun. If I don’t pass the astronaut medical test I want to be a robot designer.” Mr T. looked at me with one eyebrow raised. A few other kids thought it was cool. Most of them wanted to be farmers or something like that. Some of them wanted to go to town and do other jobs. Oliver, one of the brainiest kids, wanted to be a doctor.

               My first day went better than I expected. Alex was actually nice and showed me where everything was and explained all the rules. She’s growing up I guess.

When we got home Grandad was angry. “Damn Ferals!”

I asked Mum quietly: “Does he mean feral animals, like wild pigs and stuff?”

               Grandad heard me. “Not feral animals, lad. The two legged kind. They’re larrikins who roam around the country stealing people’s cattle and sheep and dumping their rubbish where they shouldn’t. Shoot the lot of them I say.”

               “Dad.” said Mum. “Calm down. You can’t be sure who did it.”

               “Somebody did it.” he said. “I might visit a few of the neighbours tonight and see if anyone has seen any lately. When are they going to fix the damn phones?”

Mum told me my uncle had counted his calves and found one missing. “Ferals are people who drive around the country in trucks and camper vans. Some of them are a bit rough, but they’re not all bad. They’re just to trying to survive like the rest of us.”

“How do they make money?” I asked

“They sell crafts and other things that they make. And they do temporary work wherever they can, like picking fruit.”

“They sell drugs and steal, that’s all.” said Grandad.

              

               Grandad wasn’t just grumpy at the Ferals. Later that week Dad and Grandad took me to a shire council meeting in town. The Mayor was trying to get people to agree to build a big expensive sewerage treatment plant. He said that the septic tanks were polluting the groundwater and we had to protect the environment. Dad and Grandad spoke against it. Dad said composting toilets were much better and the compost could be used on people’s gardens. We shouldn’t be flushing it down the river. Grandad said the Mayor was just wasting people’s money on grandiose monuments. I think that means something bad. The Mayor said Grandad was being a stick in the mud. “You can’t stop progress.” the Mayor said. Grandad was not impressed. When he got home Grandad was still complaining. “’You can’t stop progress.’ What a load of rubbish. Wasting money we haven’t got is not progress. If that drongo had half a brain it would be lonely…”

“Dad.” said Mum and gave him one of her looks.

             Grandad just ignored her and winked at me. “Come and see if you can beat me at chess, Craig.” he said.

 

On Friday afternoon before we went home from school Mr T. gave us an assignment. We had to do a project about the environment and sustainability. Everyone groaned, including me. I’ve had enough of that stuff from Dad. Anyway Mr T. told us to think about it over the weekend and come and talk to him on Monday.

               The next morning Grandad borrowed my uncle’s truck and drove Alex and me into town. He had some bit of a machine that he wanted fixed and some other jobs to do. We pulled up outside the blacksmith’s work shop, next to the hardware store. “Not many of these left.” said Grandad. “Very useful places though. They can make and fix almost anything.”

“I get my horse shoes here.” said Alex.

Grandad picked up the piece of metal from the truck and we walked in. “Gidday Bill.” he said. The blacksmith was busy hammering something on the anvil, sparks flying into his long leather apron.

               The work shop was a huge old wooden shed. Inside was a big fire with bellows. In the back of the shed were piles of metal and bits of machines. The blacksmith put down the hammer and put the bit of metal back in the fire with some long tongs. “How are you Jim?” he said to Grandad.

               “Good mate, yourself?”

               “Good as always.” He looked at Alex. “Hi sweetheart. How’s that horse of yours?

Wow, he must be the only person on the planet who could get away with calling her that, except Grandma.

 “Good.” said Alex. “I’m jumping it at the show next month. “This is my cousin. Craig.” she said pointing at me.

“Nice to meet you son.”  He smiled at me and turned to Grandad. “What have you got for me?”

“Broken connector rod from the hay baler. Can you fix it?”

He had look at the bit of metal in Grandad’s hands. “Give me a few days, all right? Wednesday ok?”

“Good as gold. Thanks mate.”

“No worries.”

“Hey, Bill. Have you heard anything about some Ferals in these parts? My boy lost a calf out of the back paddock the other day.”

He shook his head. “Not specifically. Someone yesterday told me they saw smoke coming from the campsite in Blacktop Mountain national park. It’s a fair way from the back of your place though.”

“Thanks mate. We’d better shoot through now. Got some other jobs to do. Give my regards to the missus won’t you.” said Grandad.

“Will do.” He waved a hand and turned back to the furnace.

               We drove down the main street, a mixture of one and two storey brick and wooden buildings, mostly old. We went past the council office, the credit union, the op shop selling all sorts of second hand goods, the post office and bookshop. On the other side was the garage, hotel, general store and a hair dresser. At the end of the town was the show ground where they had the annual agricultural show with horse jumping and wood chopping and side shows. Every Saturday they had a market there too.

We wandered around the market. There were lots of stalls selling all sorts of food and other things. We saw a campervan. “Maybe they are the Ferals.” I said to Alex. They were tidily dressed and didn’t seem to have much to sell. Grandad thought they looked suspicious. There were some aborigines too. They were selling fish from the lake. Then there were some hippies selling fruit and vegetables from their farm.

“That’s the local Ferals.” said Grandad. I looked for Mr T. but couldn’t see him.

Everyone was using the local money, Gumtree dollars. That’s what my Mum gave me for pocket money now too. We could only use them in north Queensland. Only the big cities seemed to use the old Australian money now, and even there people used other kinds too. Grandad said hello to lots of people and bought a few things and then we headed off home.

On the way back Alex begged Grandad to drop us off by Lake Sutherland. It was big lake near the farm with swampy bits around the outside. It was a national park too. Alex said she was going to do her class project about some of the birds that lived there and wanted to have a look. She led the way down a track to the edge of the lake. There were lots of reeds growing around the shore and paper bark trees, the kind where it peels off in thin sheets, and hundreds and hundreds of birds.

               Alex pointed out some – “Magpie geese, those big ones are called Brolgas,…and those ones over there come from the artic, Russia and Alaska.” she told me pointing. “They nest up there and then when it starts to get cold they fly all the way down here to feed and store up energy. Then when it‘s time they fly all the way back again for the next summer.

“Amazing.” I said. After we watched the birds for a while longer Alex decided to go for swim. “Swim? In the nuddy?” I said.

“No you dipstick. Keep your clothes on. They’ll dry fast enough afterwards. Come on, don’t be a wuss.” She already had her sun hat and shoes off. She jumped in and I followed slowly. The water was cold. Maybe I am a wuss.

             After we got out and dried off a bit we walked around the lake. Suddenly Alex stopped. “Look.” she whispered. There was an aboriginal man, wearing long pants, a khaki shirt, and a cowboy hat like Grandad’s. He was crouched over a cooking fire. “He’s got a swag too.” Alex pointed to the sleeping bag and a little shelter nearby. “He’s living here.”

“Maybe he took the calf?” I said.

After the long walk home we told Grandad and my uncle all about it. “Do you think he did it?” I said.

Uncle shrugged. “Dunno.”

“What was he wearing?” said Grandad.

“A khaki shirt,” I said. “and a hat like yours. Do you know him?”

Grandad just said “Hmm.”

 

After dinner I went out and fed the chickens. It was now my job to look after them and also collect the eggs. At first I didn’t like it. They clucked and flapped at me. And worse, I got chicken poo on my hands when I picked up the eggs.

This time I stood there and watched them while they were eating. I imagined they were little robots picking up rocks on Mars and transforming them into egg-shaped pellets for transportation back to earth. And that’s when I got my great idea. I decided I was going to do my school project on bringing back minerals from Mars so people on earth didn’t run out of things like Dad said we were doing. Just like the birds flying to Australia for food and then back to the artic. Even better than going to Mars would be living there and making robots to dig up minerals. It would be good for the economy too I reckoned.

The next day we decided to go back to look for the aboriginal man again, to see what he was up to. Alex brought some binoculars with her. We found him in different spot near his camp looking at something across the lake. We quietly hid behind some reeds and watched him. “What’s he doing?” I asked.

“I don’t know. Keep quiet.” He stood still looking across the lake at a patch of reeds. I tried to breathe silently but my heart was beating fast and my lungs couldn’t’ seem to get enough air.

“Hey kids. Come and have a look.” The man turned around and motioned with his hand for us to join him. I looked at Alex. She shrugged. There was no point in hiding anymore. We walked up to him.

“Look over there.” he said pointing. Alex used the binoculars.

“What can you see?” I said.

“Two guys with cross bows.”

“Let me look.” I said.

She passed over the binoculars. I put them to my eyes, just then the first man shot. The bolt shot out trailing a thin rope. A goose went down. Then another shot, a second goose went down. “They shot some geese.”

“What?!” Alex grabbed the binoculars. The men slowly hauled in the geese on the ropes and disappeared into the trees.

“It’s the Ferals. We should follow them and tell the police.” said Alex.

The man shook his head. “They only took two. Let them go.”

“Grandad thinks one of them took my Dad’s calf.” said Alex.

The man frowned. “Oh. That’s not good. A big group came through last year with shot guns and blasted the heck out of the birds. Got so many they couldn’t even carry them all away. Still, they didn’t really make too much of a dent in the numbers. If everyone did it they wouldn’t last long though. Come on.” We followed him back to his camp. “Do you want some water?” he asked when we sat down around his small fire.

“No thanks.” I said.

“Yes please.” said Alex.

“I’m Joe.” he said.

“I’m Alex, and this is my cousin Craig.” said Alex. “My Dad owns the farm over there.” She pointed west. Joe nodded.

“What are you, umm, doing here?” I asked, trying to sound casual. I figured we were still investigating him, even if it looked like the Ferals were the prime suspects.

“I’m a ranger.” He patted the logo on his shirt pocket. “The government passed a law on co-management a while back. That means we jointly manage the parks and continue the old ways. There used to be two paid rangers here and another three up on Blacktop Mountain but the government ran out of money. Now I’m an honorary ranger. That means I can still do the work but I don’t get paid.” He laughed. “My people have lived here for thousands of years. Our traditional land goes from here all the way down south to the river and across to the mountain. In the old days they moved around collecting different kinds of food. The lake is the best though. See those slopes over there?” He pointed to a big patch of gum trees which covered a long gentle slope. “Under those trees is sand, from when this area was under the sea. When it rains the water goes into the sand. Then it slowly drains out and keeps the lake and the swamps wet all year round. There’s always plenty of fish and birds.”

“Where do you live?” I asked.

“We have a settlement on the other side of the lake. We have a cattle station there too. More people are coming back home now. There are no jobs in the cities. I stay here when I’ve got time though; it’s closer to the road where people usually come in.”

“What are you cooking?” I pointed to the metal camp oven over the fire. It looked like a heavy pot with a lid.

“It’s damper.” he said. “It’s like bread without the yeast. Easy food to make in the bush.”

“Isn’t it dangerous having fire out here? What if it spread?” Alex asked.

“Yeah.” I said. “My dad made a solar cooker. You could use one of those. It’s a big box like this.” I held up my arms.

“Bit heavy to carry around mate. Your dad sounds like a smart guy though.” He looked at Alex. “Your Dad is a good man too. He looks after the land, doesn’t over-graze it. He and a couple of others are allowed to bring their cattle here in the dry season. They eat out some of the weeds in the swamp.” He stoked the fire a little. “My Dad worked with your Grandad in the old days on the big cattle stations further inland. You can tell him Lenny Crawford still tells those stories.”

As we walked home we decided that Joe hadn’t taken the calf. We would talk to Grandad when we got back. Maybe he would take us to the mountain and we could sneak up and have a squizz at the Ferals’ camp site.

 

               On Monday I waited until after school to talk to the teacher. “I’ve got an idea for my assignment Mr T.” I said.

“Ok. Tell me about it.” He sat on the edge of his desk.

“I’m thinking you could have rockets go to Mars with robots to dig up minerals and bring them back to earth for people to use. Since we’re running out and stuff. Then people could get jobs again. Like my parents.”

Mr T. looked at me for a while. He started to say something but then closed his mouth.

“A bit like the birds that fly down from the arctic and get food here and then fly home to breed.” I said.

Mr T. nodded. “Mmm. Ok. Lets’ think about this. How are you going to get the minerals back to earth?”

“On rockets, big rockets.”

“Ok. Where will they come from?”

“From earth.”

“So you are going to transport rockets all the way to Mars and then they will fly back with minerals?”

“Umm, yeah.” I started to get worried. This wasn’t quite going as I planned.

“Do you know how heavy the last Mars rover was?”

“Half a ton, a ton?”

“Sounds about right. What about the booster rocket to get it into space?”

“Oh. About 100 tons, or maybe 200?”

“Ok, that’s close enough. So it takes 200 tons of rocket and fuel to get a 1 ton rover to Mars. How big a rocket will it take to get a huge rocket into space that can come back full of cargo?”

I thought for a while. “Very big.”  This wasn’t looking good. Then I had a brainwave. “We could make the return rockets on Mars from local materials, and Mars’ gravity is not as strong as Earth’s.”

He nodded. “True. Ok, how about you do some more thinking about that and come and chat to me again.” He gave me serious look. “How are you going so far?”

I shrugged. “It’s ok. I wish I was still in Brisbane and everything was normal again.”

He patted me on the shoulder. “You’re a good kid, Craig.”

               I was just about to go out when I remembered something. “Mr T., umm, are you a hippy?”

He nodded, smiling. “Yes, pretty much.”

“But you don’t have long hair and you wear cycle pants.” I said.

“I used to have long hair, dreadlocks actually. The principal made me cut it short so the parents wouldn’t get upset. And the shorts are just to impress the girls.” He gave me wink.

Ok, he can be a bit weird sometimes, but mostly he’s cool.

 

The next morning Mum answered the phone. It was working again. “The school says that there’s no school bus for the rest of the week. Mr Jones, the driver, had an accident.” Grandad said he probably had a bit too much lubrication last night before he went home. I guess the bus must have slipped on some oil or something. I didn’t know how we were going get to school. Our car was in the garage in town waiting for some parts to fix it and my uncle had left early with the truck to pick up some farm supplies somewhere. My aunt was away too visiting her parents in Townsville. Her mum was sick and she was really worried. So, no cars.

 “You can ride a horse to school with Alex.” said Mum.

“But Mum!” I had only tried to ride a horse twice before and hated it both times. They are big and scary.

“How about I ride with you? I haven’t ridden for years. It’ll be fun.” That made me feel better. Until I realised what the kids at school would think, but by then it was too late. We went out and saddled up the horses. Alex led us through the farm, over a little stream and along a back road to school. We seemed to get there quickly. I was too busy hanging on for dear life to notice the time going by.

               When we arrived I hopped down and Alex took the reins. Some of the other kids pointed at me and laughed. I went red. Just then a big truck went past and the tires spat up some stones. Mum’s horse reared up. She pulled on the reins and got it under control. Then she patted it and talked to it to calm it down. Wow, she was good. I didn’t care what the other kids said after that. Mum took our horses and said she’d come back with them after school.

               For sports at school we played touch rugby. It’s supposed to be non-contact, except the other kids seemed to bump into me a lot, accidentally on purpose. “The Broncos are losers.” one of them said when I was at the bottom of a pile.

I went home with some bruises. But that didn’t matter because when I was listening to radio later I heard the best news ever. “Dad, the Broncos are coming!” I yelled. “They’re playing a pre-season game against the Cowboys in Townsville.”

Dad didn’t say anything.

“Dad? The Broncos.”

“I’m sorry son, it costs too much you know. It’s a long way and petrol is so expensive now, and then there’s the tickets.”

“But it’s the only game we can see this year.”

“Maybe next year. If Mum or I can get a bit of work in town then we can save up and make a weekend of it and go to the beach as well. It can be our little holiday.”

“No! It’s not fair!” I stomped out. Usually that makes mum wild but this time she just let me go so I stomped all around the verandah too and then went to see my robot chickens.

 

The next time we went to the lake Joe showed us a drain that went under the railway line. So much water came through the culvert in the rainy season that the soil was eroding away and being washed into the lake. “If it keeps going on it will eventually fill in and there won’t be so many fish or birds.” Above the railway wasn’t much better, the gullies were eroding and the hillside was washing away. “The parks people have no money, the council says it’s the railway’s fault and the railways say it’s not their problem.” said Joe.

I told Joe about the council meeting the other week. He laughed. “Don’t tell your Grandad I told you this.” he said. “He and the Mayor go back a long way. Years before he got on the council.”

“They were mates?”

“At the start. Then one day they had a fight.”

“Who won?”

“Neither of them. Your Grandma stopped them. The Mayor wasn’t happy though. He never liked your Grandad after that.”

“That’s bit unfair for Grandad isn’t it.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Joe said with a grin. “Your Grandma chose him, see?”

 

When we got back we talked to Dad and my uncle about the drain. “We must be able to do something.” I said. Alex agreed. She didn’t want her precious birds going away. They said they’d have to think about it. Dad said he would go into town to use the computer at the library if it was working.

               At lunchtime the next day Mr T. was on playground duty and I asked him if I could go to the cemetery to see my Grandma. He said ok as long as the principal didn’t see me. Alex came with me, which was good because I couldn’t remember exactly where Grandma’s grave was from the funeral a couple of years before. Our great grandparents were in the graves next to her. Alex’s eyes got a bit red. “Hay fever.” she said when she blew her nose. There was spare patch of grass next to Grandma’s grave. “That’s for Grandad when he goes.” said Alex. I told her I reckon he’s got a long time yet.

  

On Saturday Grandad wouldn’t take us up to the campsite to spy on the Ferals. “Leave it to the grownups you two.” he said. So Alex said we were going to go to the lake again on the horses. Once we got out of sight of the house we changed direction and headed for the mountain. I was getting a bit better at riding but I stayed close to Alex the whole way, hoping I wouldn’t fall off.

When we got to the national park we followed a trail round the side of the mountain which went up behind the campsite. We tied up the horses well out of sight and then crept closer. The campsite seemed quiet and empty. I had expected lots of people. There was a billy over a fire. Someone was boiling water. Then I saw a woman pottering about beside one of the house trucks. I looked at my watch. It was nearly smoko time. I wondered if more people were going to come back for cup of tea and a rest. A little kid came out of the truck. “Mummy, I’m thirsty.”

“Ok love. Hang on a minute.” the woman said.

We waited for ages. The woman kept going in and out of three of the house trucks carrying water.  No one else came back. The house trucks and campers had solar panels on them and one vehicle had drums of fuel. Some washing was hanging on a line strung between two gum trees.

“What are we going to do?” I whispered to Alex.

She thought for a while. “How about we go and talk to her? She looks ok.”

I wasn’t too sure. “What if more people came back? We could be kidnapped or something.”

“We can pretend we’re walking in the bush. Just have a chat.” That sounded ok. I turned to crawl backwards and saw some big boots behind me. Uh oh.

I closed my eyes and opened them again. The boots were still there. Brown leather boots, scuffed and worn.  Above the boots were a pair of thick brown socks and two big hairy legs.

The owner of the boots had a deep voice. “What have we here?” he said. Alex and I looked up and saw a man with a beard staring down at us with his arms folded across his chest.  

”Hello.” said Alex smiling.

“What are you two doing?” the man said.

 “We’re bush walking.” said Alex. She was always better at lying than me.

“Really? Funny kind of walk you’re doing.” He unfolded his arms and pointed to the camp. “Come with me.”

The lady looked up from the fire as we walked into the campsite in front of the man. “Hello. Where did you two come from?”

“Found them hiding in the bushes over there.” said the man.

“We didn’t mean any harm.” I said.

“Then what were you doing?” said the man.

Alex was fidgeting a bit and I wondered what was up. Then she said, quickly and a bit too loudly, “Did you take my Dad’s calf?”

The lady glanced at us both then looked at the man. He shook his head slightly. She looked down and then nodded. She spoke softly. “One of the men did. We arrived late one night and we were all so hungry. The kids were crying. I’m sorry. We’ll try to make it up to you. When we get back on our feet.”

I looked at Alex. She had a funny expression on her face. I couldn’t tell if she was angry or sad.

The man spoke. “We had some trouble at the last town. One of the guys got drunk at a pub and there was big fight. Some people from the town came to our camp and ransacked our trucks. They broke stuff and stole money. That was bad enough, but then the kids got sick.”

 “What’s wrong with them? Did you take them to the doctor?” said Alex.

The woman answered, “We have no money for doctors or medicines. I’ve been trying some herbs but I don’t know if I’ve got the right ones. They don’t seem to be working.”

 

We went home and told everyone about the problems the Ferals were having. “Told you so.” said Grandad but he didn’t seem quite so cranky. They talked about what they could do. The town clinic was funded by all the people in the shire. People from outside had to pay extra since they didn’t contribute. My aunt thought it couldn’t hurt for the doctor to at least have a look at them. Then they could find out what medicines they actually needed. Dad said he was going to talk to the council engineer about the drain problem. Maybe he would ask about the Ferals as well. Alex and I went to find Joe the next day and tell him about what we had found out. Alex reckoned he might know some bush medicine that could help the sick kids.

 

               That week, when Mr T. was on duty again, I snuck out at lunchtime and went to the blacksmith shop. “Hi Bill.”

“Hi son. What can I do for you? Has your Grandad got something else to fix?”

“No. I want to make something.”

“Oh? What have you got in mind?”

I took some thin panels out of my bag to show him and told him my plan. “How much will it cost?” I fished out all my pocket money.

“How much have you got there?”

“Ten Gumtree dollars plus a few Australian.”

“How about we make it $5 even.”

“Ok. When can you make it by?”

“Hmm. You can pick it up on Friday at lunchtime. How’s that sound?”

“That’ll be perfect.”

 

Dad and my uncle came back from town the next afternoon. They’d been talking with the council and the doctor and Grandad had rung up Joe’s father to have a yarn. Between them all they’d worked out some ideas. The council was going to pay for some truckloads of rocks to protect the soil and slow down the water from the culvert. The council would pay the Ferals a bit of money to place the rocks and tie down some wire mesh to hold them in place. Next year they’d try and fix the gullies in the hill above. A healer from the aboriginal sttlement was going to visit the town and look at the kids with the doctor. And the tribal elders said the Ferals could come and live on their land for a while, fish and hunt around the lake, and help out on the cattle station. That all sounded pretty good to Alex and me.

 

Friday afternoon came and it was time to present my project. “Ok, Craig, it’s your turn. Are you ready?” asked Mr T.  I think he was a bit worried because I hadn’t told him what I was doing. I’d talked to Dad about it though.

“Yes Mr T.” I stood up the front of the class with a piece of paper.

“My project is called ‘The Story of the Robots.’” Mr T. did that eyebrow thing again but I just ignored him. “Ok here goes.”

“A long time ago, on a planet far, far away, lived some people a bit like us. Their country was green and beautiful. They lived in villages and small towns with only a few big cities. Most people were farmers while some people made things for others to use. People used animals, simple machines, and their own muscles to do work. It was a hard life but people were happy most of the time.

Then one day some people were climbing in the mountains and they found a cave and in the cave were some robots. They took them home and found they could do all sorts of work. So they went back to the cave and found even more robots. And when they took them home, more robots appeared in the cave. When the robots stopped working people threw them away and went back to the caves for more. 

The people thought it was great. They began to use the robots for everything, farming, transport, even housework. Some people worked out a way to have robots make other things and created factories. Others joined lots of robots together and made a flying machine.  Everyone thought that was amazing. For the first time people could travel long distances without going on a sailing boat. With robots doing the work people had more time for learning, inventing things and having fun.

Other villages also found robot caves and began to use robots. Robots were good at growing crops so there was more food for people.  The villages and towns grew bigger and turned into cities. People lived better than ever before. Some people invented some robots that lasted much longer, but these weren’t very popular since they worked slower and were hard to make. People wanted more and more things and the free robots provided them.

There were some problems though. Some people found themselves doing boring jobs like fixing broken robots and the environment was polluted with robot rubbish, but people didn’t care much. Some people got lazy and used robots to go to the local shops, even when they were really close. Sometimes towns and cities had wars with each other to get more robot caves. Most people thought that the more robots you had, the better your city would be.

Then, one day, something very strange happened. The caves began producing fewer robots. People didn’t know why, and thought that perhaps it was just a temporary problem and that more would come soon. But next year, even fewer robots came from the caves. People started to get worried. How would they live without robots to do the work? Every year after that the robots became fewer and fewer and life was never the same again.

The end.”

 

Mr T. nodded. “Very interesting Craig. Well done. So class, what do you think the story was really about?” The brainiac put up his hand. “Oliver?”

“Cars.”

“Craig, is that right?”

“No, not cars.” I said.

Mr T. looked around the class. “Somebody else?”

Claire put up her hand. She’s brainy too, and cute.

“Slaves?”

“No, good guess though. The robots were a bit like slaves, doing work for people. Craig, tell us. What it’s about?”

“Oil. The robots are oil.”

“Yes, that’s right, oil, coal and gas.” said Mr T. “Ok. Class, what can the people do when the robots start running out?”

               “They can use fewer robots and also use animals and wind and solar power.” said someone.

               “Good. Ok, Craig, do you still want to be an astronaut?”

“Yes, but it looks like that might not be possible, with the economy and everything. My second choice is a park ranger. But with a jet pack so I can chase the bad guys!”

Mr T. smiled and rolled his eyes.

“Ok, maybe a horse then.” I said. The class laughed. “Or maybe I’ll be a blacksmith so I can make cool stuff.”  I picked up my bag. “Mr T. I have something else as well.” I pulled out the small portable solar cooker I had made with a metal stand for the camp oven and set it all up. “Me and the blacksmith made this for Joe the ranger. I reckon he’ll be stoked.”

********

For part 2 in the trilogy see  Promised Land. It’s 2050 and development threatens the rural north Queensland district. Is it what they really need and if not, how can they stop it?


For part 3 in the trilogy see Heart of Glass. The year is 2099, high school graduates prepare to step into adulthood and the community prepares to celebrate the turn of a new century.

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Entries in the post-industrial / peak oil short story competition:
My story 'Promised Land' has been selected for the forthcoming anthology "After Oil 2: The Years of Crisis".  You can read the other entries here.

A previous set of stories was published in 2012 in a book entitled After Oil: SF Visions of a Post-Petroleum World, available from Amazon (Amazon) or in Australia from Fishpond (Fishpond).

Stories set in China:

Winds of Change –  In 2022 a migrant worker struggles to realise his dreams and fulfil his family obligations.

Outside In – It's 2050, the country and economy have changed. A recycler studies for an exam to improve his prospects, and an indentured servant plans her escape.

Seeds of Time – (Sequel to Outside In). In 2055 rural China prospers again after a period of dramatic changes, then things are complicated by a strange visitor and a hidden object.

Stories set in Australia: A North Queensland Trilogy

Robots on Mars – 2025. A space-mad city boy adjusts to life in the country and tries to solve a mystery.    (Note: no actual robots or Martians involved)

Promised Land – (Sequel to Robots on Mars). It’s 2050 and development threatens the rural district. Is it what they really need and if not, how can they stop it?

Heart of Glass - (Sequel to Promised Land). The year is 2099, high school graduates prepare to step into adulthood and the community prepares to celebrate the turn of a new century. 

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