sky broke

My name is Zak. I am 11 and a big bit. I hav not seen the sun. I want to grow up. I know the tooth fairy is really my mum.
"Too many 'I's," said Grandpa, "and there's an 'e' at the end of 'have,' you're not on a mobile now, and 'never' might be better than 'not'."
"What's a mobile?" asked Zak.
"It was a portable telephone for people to talk to each other while on the move, they could send messages to each other too, and would abbreviate things so their thumbs wouldn't get sore from pressing the buttons. Your parents had them, you must've inherited their grammar and it's in your genes."
"But my legs are in my jeans."
Grandfather smiled. "No, genes not jeans," and spelt the words aloud, "they're different words. Jeans are your pants and genes are what you're made of, a combination of mummy and daddy's parts that make up you."
"Oh," said the boy, not really any the wiser. "What's wrong with my 'I's?"
"It's too repetitive, you need to mix your short sentences up into a long sentence or two, it's a bit like breathing, you only need a new sentence when you take a breath, something like - 'I am eleven years old but closer to twelve, and one day when I am older I will see the sun and feel its warmth on my skin, and if I am sensible, pretend the tooth fairy does exist, and get the gift.'"
"But isn't that lying?"
"If it keeps everyone happy then it's not lying; it's pretending; it's fun."
"I meant about the sun not the tooth fairy. I can't see the sun it will toast me, so you told a lie."
"Maybe the scientists will fix the weather and things will get back to the way they used to be. It's possible, they're working very hard, and they're very intelligent people."
"And if they don't the world will end?"
Grandpa sighed. How could he lie to an eleven year old? How could he tell him the truth? "Do you really think someone so young should be worrying about such big worldly issues?"
"Yes. I want to live. I want to grow old and see the outside proper."
Grandpa went to correct his grammar but hesitated, it was hardly the moment. "We'll just have to wait and see and hope and pray they get it right this time," he nodded reassuringly to the boy and smiled.
"What does the sun look like?"
"Oh it's glorious, magnificent, but difficult to look at even when you could, you had to wear dark glasses and even then it made you squint. Here, I'll show you…." Grandpa rummaged through an old box, "these are dark glasses, try them on."
"Oh don't be silly Gramps, I can't see through them! I can just see the candle flames, but nothing else."
"Well years ago everyone wore them outside and could see ok, they were supposed to be 'cool,' but even with these on looking straight at the sun was foolish."
"You could walk about outside in the white daytime and see stuff through these glasses?" asked Zak incredibly.
"You bet you could, life was good then."
"So what made the weather go wild?"
"Oh you know. Everyone was too busy making money not realising they were poisoning the planet, or if they did the money was more important, so they just lived for the present and didn't think too much of the consequences, someone else could sort that out in the future. Then the earth just got fed up and decided there was no room left for greedy people and fought back."
"Did they try to poison the earth Gramps?"
"Well yes I guess they did, quite a lot. Back in the last century when all the insects were eating the fruit and vegetables they decided to cover it with poison to kill the insects."
"But no one would eat the apples and potatoes then, they'd be no use."
"Oh but they did, the government said it was safe to eat and they all did. And because it was such a small amount of poison it slowly built up in their bodies and poisoned them too, but so slowly they didn't die, just got sick; sicker in the head than the body if you ask me, but I'm only guessing, I was a teacher not a doctor."
"Wow! People must've been really stupid back then."
"I guess if everyone's doing something then it kind of seems normal."
"And the poison made the weather go bad?"
"No, that was all the chemicals and pollution humans were putting into the atmosphere, it killed the ozone layer at the top of the sky and that's why the sun's so dangerous when you see it, the ozone layer was a filter, it's much more powerful now to be out in."
"The sky broke and the weather went crazy?" gasped Zak.
"That and other things, they cut down most of the trees and that made the temperatures rise so the weather changed, became more extreme, more violent. It's very complicated."
"And now they're trying to fix the sky," said Zak, more a hope than a question.
"Yes. We'll just have to wait and see. I think they will."
"Can I have something to eat?"
"Mum and Dad will be home soon and we'll have dinner, but I guess a cup of tea and a biscuit will do no harm to your appetite. Let's go into the kitchen." Grandfather lit some small bits of wood and paper on a little stove and measured some water from a bottle into a cup twice for the kettle. "It won't take long." He opened a box and took out a biscuit for Zak. "Eat it with your tea," but of course it was too late, the biscuit was gone.
"Use electricity, it's faster."
"No, we need to conserve it; these bits of waste wood will be enough for hot water."
"So where did all the animals go?" mumbled Zak pushing a final crumb in from the corner of his mouth.
"Oh they're not all dead; quite a few are still alive and kept in protected places. Which is your favourite?"
"The elephant, it's so big and fat," laughed the boy.
"I'm afraid they're all gone. The drought killed them off, it's such a shame; they were a magnificent proud beast. What do you think of the giraffe?" asked Grandpa changing his sigh to a happier tone.
"I don't believe in them," stated the boy looking at the picture in his animal book.
"But it's real, and there's still some about. Why don't you believe?"
"Oh come on Gramps, look at that neck, nothing could look like that and be real."
"It's real, that was so they could eat the leaves at the tops of the trees. There's sillier looking animals than that one, is there a duck billed platypus in that book? Look under D and P." Zak flicked through the alphabetical pages and was disappointed not to find one. "Never mind, I'll describe it to you, it had a body like an otter but had a big beak for a mouth and webbed feet like a duck, and a flat tail like a beaver."
"No way!" squealed the boy. "Stop telling fibs Gramps."
"It's true; believe me, whoever thought that one up was having a good laugh at the time."
"Is it dead too?"
"I don't know, it lived in the wild and was very illusive. When we get the planet fixed we'll go looking for a platypus. It will be our little adventure." Gramps poured out the water and dunked a tea bag in each cup several times.
"What's 'illusive' mean?"
"Secretive, hard to find," he answered.
"Why did the telephones stop working? That couldn't be the oozy layer in the sky?"
"Ozone layer, and yes you're right that was something different, the lottery virus, it collapsed the computer network in 48 hours. A simple e mail that told people they'd won the lottery and they were so greedy they opened it without checking and it passed itself on to all their mail addresses and corrupted almost all the world's computer drives. It all happened so fast anti virus protection had no time to update, it spread like butter. If you have one e mail sent to ten people and then those ten people send to ten more each how many computers is that?"
"Twenty?"
"One hundred, in fact 111 in total in a chain of three, and then one thousand and next ten thousand etcetera, be a million in an hour, a billion in two hours, see how it wiped out all the computers in two days?"
"Couldn't they just make new ones?"
"Oh they tried, but they didn't seem to know how anymore, they couldn't make computers without computers. It was jut impossible in the computerised world they'd created around them."
"But they didn't have computers when they made the first one."
"Yes, that's true, you precocious little monkey; I think they just lost the plot a bit."
"So how does the electricity get here without computers?"
"Not all the computers were affected; the stand alone control computers that weren't connected to the internet - that was a network of telephones and cables that let computers talk to each other - were ok, because if the virus couldn't get at them they still worked. But modern industry collapsed severely from a lack of computers, as did civilisation. The electricity we get these days is made in a different way, all the old fuels were running out, oil, gas, coal, it was like everything was going wrong all at once, within a year, it all had a kind of domino effect, like when you set your dominos up in a line, knock one over they all fall over, there were lots of conspiracy theories about it."
"What's….." queried Zak looking puzzled.
"…a conspiracy theory? Just some fun, people deciding it was the governments' fault, or some secret organisation in a destructive plot for world domination, or an alien power or even aliens themselves," laughed Gramps.
"No. What's butter?" corrected Zak.
"What's butter?" queried Gramps looking confused.
"You said the computer virus spread like butter."
"That's a simile; I used it as a comparison, the virus just spread all over the world like butter on a slice of hot toast, as in fast. It's like margarine; the virus wasn't butter, butter came from cows, a farm animal, there's still a few left, but they killed most of them off, so foolish, they were our main food source, meat, milk, cheese and quite a few other bi-products."
"They weren't killed by the crazy weather?"
"No, scientists decided that one of the causes of ozone depletion was methane gas and cows were a big source of that."
"What's methane?"
"Gas that comes out of your bottom," admitted Grandpa.
"Farts!" yelled Zak, ecstatic to get away with using a naughty word. "Oh come on Gramps, you can't kill the cows for farting too much, they'll come and kill me too," he giggled.
"It was the last government, I think they were pretty desperate by that stage, and of course they still are, they tried everything and anything to arrest the problem."

The outer door opened and the howl of the wind let them know Mother and Father were home. They came in fighting the weather back, latching both doors.
"Hello Zak," called out Mum. She threw open her arms to greet him as he ran to her.
Father ruffled the child's hair. "Hello son. Hello Father. Was he good today?"
"Of course, as always, too inquisitive for his age if anything, how was work?"
"Oh as always, we did what we could against the elements. We have some carrots and a cabbage; we'll heat them up with some beans for dinner."
"Is the weather very bad?" asked Grandfather.
"No worse than usual," replied Mother taking off her coat, "very windy, but no lightening," she replied. She took off her breathing mask and kissed her husband.
"I'll get cooking," said Gramps.
"No, let me do it tonight," said Mother, "I managed to scrape together a few extras in wages; I think I can put a tasty sauce together with them. Remember garlic and parsley?"
"A whole garlic?" asked Grandfather.
"I wish, just 2 cloves. I'll use one and save the other."
"No, let's enjoy, use both, they're so healthy," added Father.
"Daddy, if I fart will I be killed?" asked Zak, desperate to be childish caught in a grown up world.
"I hope not," replied Father looking confused.
"Modern history, we learnt about the demise of cows in school today," added Gramps. "Like I said, he's just too inquisitive for his years."
Mother busied herself in the kitchen preparing the vegetables. "How's our electricity quota for today?"
"No worries," replied Grandfather, "we have been very sensible; candles and wood have been the order."
"Daddy, what do you miss from the past?" asked the child sitting on his Father's lap.
"Oh I don't really know of anything specific, just that it worked then until we got it all wrong, I'd like it all back and working again."
"Not any one thing, not even your mobile?"
"Definitely not my mobile, that was what was wrong with the world, time was money and mobiles meant you couldn't escape work pressure, not even for five minutes, work really was a sixteen hour day seven days a week demand. No I think I miss the beauty of a blue sky, white fluffy clouds, even the rain, not like today's rain that tears at your face, it used to be nice, felt good on your skin, and to see a beautiful rainbow across the sky."
"What's a rainbow?"
"You know son it's been that long I'm not really sure anymore, Grandpa will know. All I can remember is when I was a boy they stretched across the sky in three colours like a giant archway to heaven."
"Seven." Father and Zak looked round at Grandpa. "It had seven colours, and it was the sun shining through the moisture in the air that refracted the light causing it to split into its colour components, red, orange, yellow, green, blue and violet."
"That's six," shouted Zak.
Grandpa counted through them again in his head. "Oh my, you're right Zak; I'm getting old and forgetful." He puzzled again, "I can't remember the seventh colour of the rainbow, guess we know what tomorrows school work is going to be," he said with a mischievous grin.
"I don't want to wait till tomorrow, is there a picture of a rainbow in my books?"
"I don't know. I don't think so, but I have something better." The old man rummaged once again in a tattered old box and pulled out a small triangle of glass and looked at it like it held so many childhood memories and secrets. "Look through this Zak, hold it up to your eye and look at the candles."
The boy held it up cautiously and peered through the scratched glass, his mouth fell open in awe. "There's like two flames, a red one and a blue one, it's like they're on top of each other but not quite. But shouldn't I see seven flames?"
"The light's not strong enough, you can't expect a rainbow from a small candle compared to the brilliance and power of the sun; remember the sun was so bright you had to squint at it with dark glasses, you don't do that with candles, you could just see them and no more with dark glasses."
But the boy was not put off; he gazed on in amazement at another world, a different dimension, a world more beautiful than today's horrors. A dream world to escape to, a place where magic comes true, where animals don't just live in books but for real, a place with yesterday's colours shining through today's grey.
"This is going to be gorgeous," called Mother, and they all came eagerly to the table. The meal did look good; maybe not what you'd expect at a restaurant of days past or from a cookery book, but in today's world you worked for your food and were glad to have it. You didn't nor couldn't follow any rules of cuisine, what you had went in, and what came out you ate; and ate they did, heartily.
After the meal Zak watched Grandpa through the prism. "You have seven eyes!"
"Shouldn't I have fourteen?" queried Gramps. The boy giggled, school was over for one day.
"It sounds like dark now," said Father, "shall we?"
The four of them left the table and went outside, the storm had gone, the winds subsided, the black sky shone with a million stars, more than were ever seen in the days of cars, planes and industry. A full moon shone down on everyone and they held their faces to it almost believing it was warm.
Mother and Father held hands, "Ironic isn't it that the sky can be so beautiful at night and so wild during daylight," whispered mother. They breathed in the crisp fresh air like it might be their last time. Zak was looking at the moon through the prism, a boy with a new toy.
"Tomorrow we'll do rainbows, find out more, try and find the seventh colour, and duck billed platypuses."
"Platypussies," shouted Zak.
"If you insist," smiled Gramps, "I don't think the platypus would mind. Who knows? They're so odd there might be a bit of cat in there too."
They gazed on at the clear night sky not wanting to give it up, just about the only normal thing left on the planet, hard to believe in a few hours the sun would come up and ravage the earth and weather for another day. What disasters could it punish them with next?

ultrawhite infragrey

The moon lit the apocalyptic wasteland. Dead vehicles littered the foreground, pillaged factories distorted the horizon, and the toasters scavenged and danced through the debris like primeval animals. But these weren't creatures of history, they were humanity's future, this was evolution.

You could be forgiven for thinking of the toasters as punks, goths, no-hopers, rebels and anarchists, and they were amongst them, but many were once well respected business men, powerful executives, successful industrialists, and once loving family members; and when their worlds collapsed around them, they lost their belief, their direction, and their reasons to be; psychotherapists would've had a field day, except they were top of their own queue. And this is the world now, or a part of it, the fighting survivors of an insane landscape, lost souls scratching amongst the rubbish for what animal life was left in these conditions, mostly underground vermin, insects, some fish if you were lucky, a few night fliers, owls or bats, the latter fitting in appropriately, very little plant life, even cacti were struggling in shaded areas, just some roots, some mutated fungi and algae, sea and pondweed.
Even the most resourceful struggled. A bus with blackened windows had hotel status, an old wheel-less transit van was a penthouse, but most outsiders, or 'toasters' as they had been branded, made shelters from waste shaped into a box and secured, or dug into the ground and covered themselves from the sun and weather till night came. The earth had become an out-world of vampire like scavengers, ghouls and zombies who survived post collapsed society, shopping malls replaced by refuge, litter for bedding, rodents for food, insanity for logic, and survival for purpose; though some had their doubts.
The governments had provided them with food, water and some clothing, in weekly deliveries for a while, but as global supplies diminished it was reluctantly decided the sane should be prioritised, and so the night people led their separate lives against the odds. Occasionally some altruistic person or group would gather some small pickings together and leave it on the outskirts of town as a charitable gesture or possibly in hope of some lost loved one still being alive, few were.

"Kill," screamed a toaster who disturbed a rat when he overturned a box, they jerked at it violently with sticks and knives but it got away.
They fashioned weapons with what they had, made nets and traps from the spoils of their forages, there was even some ammunition left, but so little it was saved for desperate days. These four runners eked out a kind of survival beside a lake several kilometres from the city. It wasn't too bad in early days but edibles were running thin all around. After a few weeks their real names seemed to fade with their pasts as they metamorphed into subhumans and they adopted pseudonyms, the leader of the group was called Crash as in his past life he had worked on the Stock Market; one thoroughly miserable guy was called 3:40 to resemble the hands of a clock as he never smiled, but after a few days of this they conversely started calling him Smiler; well, with the number of fat country singers called Slim it didn't seem that odd; and one that was always talking about food got labelled Steak, with the fourth called Brackets, he never said much, was with them in presence, that's about all, no one could remember why that name was picked, it just seemed to suit him.
"We should raid the city's greenhouses," demanded Smiler, eyes violent.
"You know they're too strong and well protected. They would shoot us down like dogs," was the emphatic reply from Crash.
"We will perish soon, there's not enough food to go round. Maybe we should move on."
"How far could we travel in one night and still have time to build shelter? This is it. This is us. We make do with what's here or we perish."
"But more and more you know that will happen, every night yields less. If we raid the city we will either succeed or be terminated, even the latter would be better than this."
"I am not ready to die. If you are, go on, one less yapping mouth to feed." Crash turned to another, "What do we have?"
"Five fish and three mice," was the pathetic reply from Steak.
"OK, prepare them," he ordered.
The food was sliced and skewered, embedded on rods pushed into the ground; it hung hopelessly in the air like a warning. No predawn glow, just an instinct, and the toasters smeared their bodies with mud from the lakeside, caked it thick, effectively sunscreen factor k. One wrapped rags around his eyes, one even had scavenged welding goggles, and the other two chose not to look, smeared their backs thick. And they waited like devils for the sacrifice of the sun god, it never disappointed. Its fiery white ball cut the horizon into the black sky, the heat was instant, even by half disc. Those who chose to keep their backs to it watched their infinite shadows, raised their arms like Jesus crucified, or if you chose face on you screamed in defiance as the mud dried you into a statue. The fish sizzled and twisted, the rodent fur charred, and then the steam rose as the lake surface bubbled.
All around solar panels went blinding white, soldiers of deliverance, raging batteries of power for the surviving cities. Megawatts of intensity that burnt for several minutes before the panels automatically reclined flat or subsided into the ground. Then the turbines kicked in, howling jets as the winds increased, giant silver tubes that jerked from left and right to catch the direction. There were still a few of the early tower turbines left but most had perished, the jet jenny had proved more robust and efficient in this new climate.
Dark grey clouds gathered like fast forward video and the sun was lost for another cycle. When the toasters heard the turbines moan they knew they had beaten god yet again and cracked off the baked mud in celebration, shrieked like pagans, grabbed their cooked food and ran for cover. The sky darkened like an evil foreboding, soon the lightning would be raping the needles oblivious that the needles were really raping it. Every available method of weather harnessing was now used to generate power; the thermal converters sat quietly, almost redundantly it seemed, anything but, in these temperatures they provided the most.
Inside their makeshift penthouse the toasters devoured the food, cleaned every bone of meat twice and still their bodies ached for more.
"If we threatened to sabotage the generators they would start the food and water deliveries again," insisted Smiler.
"Or they would send the force to wipe us out or move us on, whichever would be more efficient."
"I can't go on living like this. I'm going to return to the city."
"And will they accept you? Will they welcome you back with open arms, like a prodigal idiot, after you shunned them, rejected their non commercial ways? As if they're bursting with food and shelter to take on more, they too are running on empty. Your memories are fading of how it was. We are as damned as they are."
"I could integrate. I could hold up my hand and admit my mistakes. I have family back there."
"Family you lost faith in. Family you walked away from when they needed you most. We all did. Families or social structures that we couldn't believe in, the changes were too much for so many of us. The out-world looked attractive initially; we could take our precious money and live on the outskirts of society when it was still relatively lush, the best of both worlds. Now we can make our beds with all that money, stuff our mattresses with our accumulated wealth and lie comfortable on it, but can we buy a sandwich, a cup of tea?" Crash smiled at his own irony. "We have two choices. Stay here and die. Go home and die."
"The Blue Project could work, I remember them talking about it, there was excitement, hope. They might save the planet," added Steak to the argument.
"I'm sitting it out," yelped Brackets between manic whimpers. "When the weather gets fixed I can return with my wealth, no one knows where it's buried but me." He looked around at them for assurance of this secret. "While they pick up what's left of the business quarter I will be rich again. I'll make a killing easily, quadruple my assets it in a month."
"In your dreams, this is no reality TV show that you get out of in a few months. We," Crash hesitated, "yes, me as much as you, I know I am as guilty," 'as sin' he was thinking but didn't say it, "know how to do two things, make money, which is as much use as a diamond pie, and, running away from our mistakes," he looked at them despicably. "They see us as crazy people, they won't take us back. They see us as entrepreneurs, the destroyers of civilisation. Global and personal wealth were inversely proportionate to Mother Nature, and anyone who doubts that truth should step outside for proof." He paused looking around at their grim faces. "No takers?" No takers. No one spoke, Brackets fidgeted awkwardly and Steak stared at the ground, unseeing. "Now in the small interest of what little is left of my sanity, could you all give my head peace and stop your whingeing, get some sleep. Tomorrow is another night; we need three times as much food. I may have a plan."
Sleep as always was restless, fighting against hunger and the incessant drone of generators and wind, metal working loose and tumbling around, wood banging like a judges hammer, not to mention the pains and physical complaints of hunger. Abstract dreams of insurrection, forgiveness and happier days gone came to no solution; the silence woke them like a mistake.

Even those as mad as toasters could appreciate the calm, still, beauty and peace of the night sky. Evening, or morning, depending on your point of order, consisted of overturning stones or empty containers looking for insects and worms to eat, digging for a root or finding some pond weed to chew; an executive lifestyle on the Costa del Suicide. With the small energy boost received from these meagre pickings they went about the serious business of catching that one big dream fish that would fill their stomachs properly, maybe this was that day.
Smiler with his mad crazy staring eyes was restless, mutiny was mounting. Of course he was free to go in any direction anytime he wished, back to the city, or, hardly 'pastures' new, but location new, but the latter wasn't exactly beckoning as the further from the city, or what was perceived as the civilised world, the less there seemed to be in amenities, food and survival, and sometimes what little you had seemed a lot compared to what little you might have, or might not. If anything, the return to the city seemed the lesser of two failures. But once you've turned your back on the governing powers when they froze all assets, business and financial enterprises, to concentrate the whole modern world infrastructure on producing freely the fundamental basics of food, clean water, power and most importantly the restoration of the ozone layer and reversal of the severe weather black out, or as some called it, wipe out; if you rejected that directive and ran into hiding with, quite literally, a sack full of money, then you aren't exactly going to be flavour of the month or Mr. Popularity on returning, with your tail between your legs and your bills and plastic, which are as good as Monopoly money these days. In fact it's been rumoured some have even burnt theirs in sacrifice or insanity, or maybe even a ritual apology.
Two small fish after several hours didn't ease the tense situation.
"You promised us food. You said you had a plan," Smiler complained bitterly.
"Is there anything we could use as a boat? We need to go deeper with the net," was Crash's reply, but he knew it was more excuse than solution, for he was getting desperate too. They looked around at the flotsam and jetsam; nothing seemed safe enough to venture out on water but with desperation and hunger safety was less of a concern.

And then like an old fashioned movie a solitary figure walked towards them. They had been attacked before but never like this. Most watched him slowly get closer but Crash looked around for others thinking he was a distraction, a decoy, to catch them off guard; no others where about, or if they were, too far away to be an immediate danger. The figure was old but walked proud and strong, unwavering in his direction straight to them; almost instinctively he walked up to the head of the group.
Crash stared straight into his eyes assessing him, perhaps they both were, and almost simultaneously they outstretched their hands. "We haven't seen many around these parts these last few weeks," he greeted.
The stranger smiled. "I'm just taking my dog for a walk, getting some air," was his cordial reply. He lent down a little and stroked the air at knee height, "He's a little shi tzu."
Steak and Brackets looked at each other confused but it didn't bother Crash, he was either eccentric or mad, out here there wasn't much difference. "Yes, aren't we all at the best of times? Where are you from?"
"I live about 2 kilometres west of here, not far."
"You survive there ok?"
"Oh definitely, me and my family and friends; things weren't going too good in the city and we set up our own little village, so to speak, sort of an annex, built a small dome from blue polymer to shelter us from the weather and morning sun, our own little ozone layer I like to think of it as, works a god damned treat. You must all come along for dinner some time, I have a restaurant, the folks in the city love to come out, it's very successful, we're going to expand and build another three."
Steak was desperate enough to believe the stranger, could this possibly be what the Blue Project was all about? Was there some civilised hope kindling?
"You have your own restaurant? How positively glorious, what an excellent enterprise," humoured Crash.
"Yes, yes, in the days past I had a whole chain of restaurants in the city, throughout the country actually, 'Burger U'," and he drew a 'U' in the air just in case they hadn't caught the abbreviation, "It's computers, everything gets abbreviated these days."
"Yes, doesn't it just," Crash smiled at the pun. "We're having our own little banquet tonight, you must join us."
"Are you both mad?" screamed Smiler, "We have two miserable fish between five and an invisible dog, some bloody banquet. At least if it was a real dog we'd have something to eat. You said you had a plan, we're still waiting. You've let us down again you moron."
Crash sighed. Is this what they had become, a pack of bickering wild wolves? He looked into the quiet charming madness of the stranger's vivid eyes, then the manic demonic eyes of his hated associate and reached into his pocket. There was a small, sharp crack and Smiler smiled no more, fell to the ground dead, the 3:40 clock had stopped. "Please forgive my friend, it's been a long night and his manners are a little lacking. Now I really must insist that you… and your dog stay for some dinner. It's the least we can offer."
"How positively civil of you sir, we'd love to," replied the stranger completely unperturbed by what had just happened.
He turned to the others. "Prepare him," he ordered.
They looked at each other unsure of what to do, confused, shocked, frightened.
Crash glared at them when there was no response but didn't have to ask twice, the gun was still in his hand. They stripped the body and faced him to where the sun would rise, it would soon be time.
"Oh turn him over, rump is tastier," he snapped, and turning to his new friend with a more polite tone, "Now my friend, it is maximum factor time, please, help yourself to our mud, dawn is almost upon us." And turning to the imaginary dog he said, "You too you little shi tzu, and I do assure you, none of our cosmetics have been tested on animals."
So wide eyed Smiler fried in the first cosmic rays of the sun god and the others screamed again part defiance, part pain. From early Neanderthal beginnings, savage ape like creatures took the first steps towards civilisation, through thousands of years of evolution, to this - madness, murder, cannibalism, apocalyptic Armageddon and failure on a simply global scale. Humanity had come full circle.

to build an ark

But not quite everyone.

In the city a gathering of politicians was growing like a culture of bacteria; (I should point out there are good bugs as well as bad bugs). For the last eight months governmental formats had been suspended in favour of a world party not unlike the United Nations. If any good could possibly be imagined from these dark days it was a unification of humanity at a leadership level. Two significant wars, one in the Middle East and another in the Balkans had simply fizzled out apathetically. What good is claiming another territory when like your own it is on the brink of extinction? Armies had not so much been made redundant but redirected to reinforcing police forces in tackling the anarchy, public disorder and insurrection of the initial reaction to the freezing of banks and business enterprises in the effort to stop the pollution causing ozone depletion, and redirecting manufacture to more important life preserving projects. But even anarchists soon came to realise that complaint and violence was futile in a society about to starve, burn, freeze, die, outcome as yet unknown, those that couldn't accept a world without money fled society. So unification at a public level soon grew, albeit servile, but in the cities and towns at least awaited instruction, and eager to work and serve for no more in wages than the basics of food, clothing, supplies, and power rations.
The leadership of this new structure was the Green Party, once the novelty joke party not far removed from the Monster Raving Loony Party, (the latter incidentally, did for a brief period win some leadership themselves, but relinquished it a few days later declaring that they weren't fit to govern as they were in fact what they had always claimed to be, totally mad). The Green Party however won leadership not only from electoral choice but quite simply because no other mainstream party wanted this unenviable, Herculean job of global restructure and resurrection from an almost certain doom, and most rival parties were quite happy, if not eager, to vote for the Greens themselves; it was indeed an election that never took place, and with an irony that few noticed, the paper saved from voting slips and administration would have contributed in at least some small way to saving what little was left of the tree population.
The Greens did embrace the task in hand with gusto, and after a few shaky days of an 'I told you so' attitude with others, got down to what they'd always wanted to do, save the planet. It would've been too easy, and a fruitless attitude anyway, to start spouting 'ten years earlier maybe, but now it's all too late,' but a ballsy, no nonsense, head strong leader of the Greens, who preferred to dispense with grandiose titles and be known simply as D, had both vision and determination.

"People, I address you all today with a heavy heart. Blue Project has been working tirelessly and relentlessly for several months now, to try and affect repair of our severely damaged ozone layer. Success has been great it can be claimed, ozone is being created, and, most importantly, is reaching the stratosphere, but at an insufficient level to have any reparative effect. We are pouring water into a leaky bucket. Our total manufacturing scale would be something like a factory akin to the size of Paris, what we need is a factory the size of France.
"However, all… is not lost, we will soon be implementing Plan B, and this is why I have called this assemble and why my heart is heavy. We must prioritize and localise. It is no longer a viable possibility to save our world, what I must now put to the House is plans to save, part… of the planet, and, part… of humanity..." There was a long and silent pause from the speaker. "In long and painful consultations with my Blue Project staff, I now sadly must announce, - and this will of course be open for discussion and debate, nothing as yet is written in stone, but, as we all know, time is of the essence, and I think a conclusion must be reached today, - to save part… of both humanity and the planet, and by planet I include both the flora and the fauna… that are left, it will be necessary to choose… some… of our children, and a select few adults to guide them.
"I was hoping, under this dire predicament, that we could manage two or even three percent of global population, but even that would be both optimistic and ambitious, and to stretch that far would jeopardise success. It is therefore proposed, that sixty children and ten adults, from every country, should be relocated on an ocean island yet to be chosen, with as many animals, seedlings, portable plant, vegetable, fruit and tree life… and to construct an artificial protective double canopy around this island, and fill its upper layer with ozone at a safe and controlled height, in the hope that current weather conditions, will abate with time, and a world fit for habitation will await them in months, years, decades, whatever may be.
"And in an effort to maximise basic resources, food and water, power, clean air, for these children, these future leaders of humanity, all our resources must go with them, it is therefore necessary for the rest of humanity… to be humanely culled."
An audible gasp of disbelief ran through the large hall. Several members tried to object but failed to coordinate speech and breathing sufficiently. Disbelief was rapidly followed by horror and outrage, and then pandemonium, many shouting their objections hysterically.
"Please… please… please. People, some order, please." But pandemonium was quickly becoming bedlam. Security was introduced to settle the anguished politicians and slowly, eventually, panic became complaint, and complaint became reality, and reality returned them to disbelief and finally numbness, as members returned to their seats no longer thinking of outrage or objection, but their loved ones, their partners, relatives, but most of all, their children.
"Please, if we had an alternative, but do believe me, every sensible, practical, and even some impractical options, have been tried and tested again and again. The hard reality is, we have destroyed this planet, and what we have turned it into, is now destroying us, quite simply fighting back, in an effort that 'it' itself can maybe survive the ravages we have inflicted upon it; we have raped this planet, it was arrogant to believe we could escape sentence, the hangman cometh.
"I do not take these steps lightly, desperate problems require desperate solutions, and in the next few hours I hope we can find a better one. But I think we all know by now, the true reality of our methods past, we had so many warnings at the end of the last century, and the beginning of this one, and we chose to ignore them, instead passed them on to successive governments who did the same. But this is not the time to proportion blame, but to embrace the harsh future, and either perish, or construct some minimal solution.
"I propose, that within this meeting, tough decisions should be made by all of us, logistics will be set up to implement Plan B. The best young minds need to be tallied; the best leaders for these children need to be chosen, and with a very slim success possibility, the macrocosm of planet earth needs to be relocated to the microcosm of island earth; Genesis version two begins. May our Gods, and Mother Nature, be generous to us, for I'm not sure if we deserve a second chance, if we do get one, let's get it right this time. The House is open to debate."

The House was open to debate, but what could one say? All over the vast chamber faces were blank, stunned, drained, bewildered, faced with the end of more than ninety nine percent of global humanity, wanting to scream 'No' but empty of options. One lost soul did say it, but in a whisper. And after four minutes of painful silence one empty politician rose to his feet.
"How do we choose the few who live?"
"Tentative proposals suggest the best method would be not just the children with the highest IQs but a good cross section of diverse talents. The adult minders should be from education and medical backgrounds, it is expected such upheaval and responsibility levelled on such young shoulders cannot fail but to produce some psychological trauma by such immediate removal from their families. The future depends on them, creation of a new world will need to be thought out, these children will need to show academic inclinations towards science, architecture and construction, management, medical care, agriculture, future education and care of their own children, all religions and faiths need to be catered for, all this has to be reflected in their young minds."
"How will such a mass cull of the world… no, let me rephrase, how will such a mass murder of humanity be implemented? And what is the expected reaction by the populous? How do we police the madness that will inevitably unfold?"
"I sympathise with your anger, believe me, I wish there were alternatives, however, there are none available to us. We do this to save humanity, not to destroy it. In answer to your question, it is proposed there will be three stages of termination, voluntary, advisory and mandatory. It is proposed that suicide pills should be distributed and at a fixed time of celebration, and I am advised that if this event is heralded as the celebratory dawn of a new era rather than the end of an old, such belief will make the cull, in some small but necessary way, less drastic and more acceptable, tragic and callous as that may sound. Rebellion and anarchy are expected, they will be allowed to run riot outside the secure areas, after all, what more damage can be done? Then security force mediators will advise them once more of their requirements and it is anticipated that common sense will prevail, and they will follow the directives. Finally mandatory culling will follow, much as such a statement abhors and revolts me, security forces will exterminate, by whatever methods are deemed appropriate, all that are left. Following this, all members of governments and security will take their pills. Anyone at any level that escapes termination will have a much more painful and prolonged death."
There was a very long silence.
"How do we tell them?"
"We are still in radio communication with most parts of the world. The proposals have already been relayed to the authorities there. Different faiths and religions obviously have to approach their Gods and leaders as this may well contradict all they believe in and hold holy, and they only have a few days to embrace this new directive. When the children and guides are chosen, and the construction of their new island is under way, and the scientists and engineers doing this are happy they have all the materials required for successful completion, the Genesis children will be delivered under complete secrecy.
"It is proposed that reaction to the cull be tested locally at this city. If this motion is passed, the announcement will be made later today and people will be given forty eight hours to make arrangements with loved ones and faiths. The drugs will be distributed. I have said time is running out, I am however being economical with the truth here, time is out, time has gone, world resources are running on empty. I cannot stress the importance of a speedy implementation of this."
One very sombre and painfully slow deliberate man stood up to address not so much the House, but its leader. "I, have one simple question… no, let's make it two. These are dark, and it would appear final days, I would like to know if the leader of this morbid, grey gathering, who, so very… individually, has condemned us all to death, and in fact almost everyone else, will be going to this… ludicrous Genesis island, which in my humble opinion, is the stuff of science fiction? And the second part of my query is… will any of the Greens be going too?"
A murmur of disorder rumbled through the House before the leader stood up to reply.
"Before I answer, I should point out, that in doing nothing, we are all going to inevitably die, and I don't mean from old age, which I believe the speaker realises, only too well. As to the question, my answer is an emphatic no, I will be terminating my life too, and possibly one of the last to go, but go I will, as will almost definitely all in this House. We have fulfilled our long hard days, and our jobs will be done, the future, if there is a future, will be for the young. None of my party, at a political level, will be going either, however, seven, possibly eight, Blue Project scientists, to be chosen globally, will be sent to the island to construct the ozone filled canopy. I have put this to them recently, for them to apply for these scarce posts, and with great pride and humility, I must tell the House, they all chose to work on at a local level, until the very end, unless ordered by me otherwise.
"Is there any more questions or suggestions?" asked D, "I think we should retire for deliberations soon."
"Yes. I have a question," shouted a loud boisterous voice from the back of the room. "I have a query on the proportions. This eh…" he hesitated constructing the words in his head, "weighting, for want of a better word, of sixty children and ten adults I believe the figures were, correct me if I'm wrong, is rather impractical in my view. When one thinks of the might and size of a country such as the U.S.A., and another; and with no disrespect may I please add, of a country such as say Cameroon; and I do sincerely apologise to whichever gentleman represents this country, it is just a random choice for a comparison; but surely it would be madness that these child proportions should be equal? Would it therefore not be more logical, to have a more proportional representation of the present world, with child numbers selected from each geographical area reflected by its population and global status?"
Again a rumble of discontent ran round the room.
"Had the speaker taken the time to look beyond his nose he would in fact have observed Cameroon's representative is female. However, in answer to your proposal, this idea was considered initially, but the equality option proved to be more… not so much attractive or popular or favourable, all very practical and descriptive words, but the one best word suitable to describe how we felt about it, was beautiful."
"All very honourable and admirable and gorgeous," was the quick response from the same loud voice from the back, "but perhaps, realistic, responsible, workable, would have been better adjectives to consider, when creating this 'Brave New World,' this Utopia; and it should be noted, Aldous Huxley's book did not paint such a beautiful picture. I would propose, a more constructive and functional solution, one that will not be favourable with the House, but, with days to live I am certainly not here to make any new friends, I propose, that in the interests of success, and with the all too real lessons that history continually reminds us of… that the Genesis children should ALL be white and Christian, and a single denomination Christianity, AND if time and tests allow, heterosexually inclined."
To say the House exploded would be an understatement. People were off their seats brandishing abuse verbally, and almost like schoolchildren, physically, as they protested with anything at hand. Security stepped forward but was given no order to arrest the situation, instead the fury was left to continue its natural course, and as abuse slowly ebbed away, sanity and realisation of occasion returned, and they angrily sat down still muttering. D waited for silence, and then prolonged it before speaking, more for composure than effect.
"And all of them blue eyed blonds?
"It would be too easy, and… rude of me, to call this attitude Hitlerian, and I would prefer no one else did. I do realise the pains of history, the intolerances of humanity, and the ugliness of apartheid, sectarianism, oppression, racism, sexism, the list is unfortunately, almost endless. So I do know where this attitude, this proposal, is coming from, abhorrent as it may be to most of us here, it is indeed a very practical, workable and safe option. But, it is not a very… human option.
"We have an opportunity ahead of us, not just to right the political and scientific mistakes made by our predecessors, but the human and social mistakes made too. We have a second chance. We do not have time, for a third, or alternative chance. I therefore propose, we put Blue Project Plan B, or as some seem to have adopted, the Genesis Island, to a vote, a show of hands, and if passed, implemented as quickly as possible. I cannot emphasise enough how little time is left, according to my advisors.
"And if it is not passed, then I and my party must stand down, and may God have mercy on our souls; I do not state this for effect."
Blue Project Plan B was passed almost unanimously. The House was recessed for one hour while rapid arrangements were put into operation. Governments around the world were notified of their duties, the selection process, but not the culling of humanity, this was immediately implemented locally, and reactions were a lot more subdued than expected.

"Is anyone making alcohol, legally or illegally, I care not which?" was all that could be asked by a leader emotionally drained.
"I'm not sure," was the secretary's reply, "I'll look into it. I doubt if there's much more available than a basic medical alcohol, and that would be more for rubbing that consumption."
"It was a rhetorical question John, forget it. How are things moving along?"
"World governments have replied and Genesis is moving at a steady rate, there have been some selection queries and they have been answered, in fact almost every government queried the selection methods. Local plans for culling have been released publicly and reaction has been numb and sober to say the least. People are gathering outside but not in protest of a verbal or violent kind, it almost seems like they're saying, 'Look at us. We're real. Do you know what you're suggesting?' They just stand outside as if they want to be counted."
"I will address them shortly," was the heavy, almost deathly reply.
"Do you think that is wise?" John queried.
"I have passed sentence, what is worse than that? I have a duty to my electorate however painful and unpleasant, but I think, I hope, they realise that mine and all our hands are tied. If only there was another way."

Rested, the House was due to resume. Politicians were gathering, no longer like a culture of bacteria, but a colony of worker ants, busy with purpose, and ready for self sacrifice, for the queen's survival, Mother Earth, a feeling of purpose was brewing, a job was at hand, undoubtedly the most important of jobs since Noah, and they were part of it.
"Ask them to wait; I need ten or so minutes. I need to know the thoughts and feelings at public level."
"Not without security," insisted the secretary.
"Definitely without security, I am not above their opinions. I am no more important than they are."
Not a lot was said. There was no immediate response from the throng. Just a quiet resignation, everyone knew it was the only option available, you die and save a chosen few, or everyone dies, life for some time now had been frugal.
"Take my boy, he's very bright," called out a desperate mother.
"I'm sorry; selection is out of my hands. A cross section of children is being compiled from education files, it is fair, varied and secret, other than random it is the only right method, and random cannot guarantee success. I wish there was more I could do for you, we have worked relentlessly for several months now, this raging planet has beaten the best scientific minds available. Almost all is lost. Please forgive me for these awful decisions I have been forced into, have forced upon you. I wish there was another way."
Some turned and walked away slowly. Some prayed, others nodded, for they knew no malice was intended. It was another dark step in humanity's long and problematic history. An old man and a boy stepped forward.
"I'm sorry sir. My hands are tied, I don't make the selections."
"It's ok, he understands. He's a smart precocious boy. He just wanted to meet you, see a world leader. As for me I would gladly end my life this very moment if it could help arrest this desperate situation. Who knows? Maybe his name will come up in the selection, I'm positive he's eligible but to select so few from so many, it's a small hope indeed. Really, we have no ulterior motives here; he really did just want to say 'Hello.'"
"What's your name child?"
"Zak," was the hesitant reply in awe more than anything, "I just wanted to meet such an important person on my birthday."
"To tell you the truth I really don't feel that important today, quite the opposite. I hope you are having as nice a birthday as is possible; I'm sorry if all my… commands have overshadowed your celebrations, as you know these are bad times we live in. What age are you Zak?"
"Twelve."
"Is there anything I can give you for your birthday? I don't have much in the way of possessions with me, to be honest I've been too busy for such things, but I promise if anything you want is available you can have it."
The boy hesitated and glanced at his Grandfather, who in returned nodded, "If it were at all possible, and not too much trouble, I'd like to see a rainbow."
The world's leader, decider of all humanity's fate, was dumbstruck, and it took several seconds to compose a reply, "Oh sweet child I've been so lost. For a few moments I thought rainbows were the stuff of fairies and unicorns. I have forgotten all that is beautiful in this world in the pursuit of my heavy objective."
And with one simple request a small boy had brought a great world leader, probably the most important leader in history, quite literally, to her knees. "Oh my good Jesus," she sighed, "how could I ever have considered destroying anything so beautiful? Could you please give a silly woman a big hug? I've been so very busy I've lost sight of what's important."
And outside the great doors of power, in a crowd of ordinary people, without security guards or police, a small boy and world leader embraced unashamedly, and the imminent course of history was changed.
"If I can make you a rainbow will you look after it?" she asked. Zak promised he would. "I then make you the honorary guardian of rainbows. Now if you will forgive me, I've an awful lot of work to do, and undo."
She stood up, and looked at the crowd all around. "I promise, I will do everything I can, and if at all possible, everything that up to now cannot. I will not rest till this destruction is stopped." She turned to Zak's Grandfather and paused searching his face. "I suspect there's more behind those eyes than you let on. I thank you, and hopefully in time the world will thank you."
"It just did," was his quiet unassuming reply.

of fairies and unicorns

"I must inform the House of some immediate changes, undemocratic as this may sound. Genesis will still go ahead; it will have our total backing and support, but, I am damned if I am going to be the first world leader to be reflected in what little might be left of history, as a failure. And fail I almost did. In the pursuit of the answer I forgot the question, and I almost committed the most heinous of all crimes, genocide, the mass slaughter of almost all our children, and for this I most humbly apologise. Blue Project Plan A will continue in parallel with Plan B, even though fruitless so far, a broader spectrum of approach will start immediately, call it Plan C if you want, I personally don't give a damn what it's labelled.
"First things first, I have ordered the immediate withdrawal of all suicide pills circulated locally, and this directive will most definitely not be passed on globally. Within the hour I will speak with world faith leaders, the Pope, Dalai Lama and Arch Bishops, it would seem contradictory to attempt Genesis without their direct help, but I also want to speak with them about prayer. We all turn to it in times of tragedy and desperation, no matter how irreligious we might individually be, it therefore must be considered a tangible force, I want this force to be elevated to a mass instrument rather than a quiet private one; I will propose a collective unified church, it might only be for these last few days, but in these last few days no stone, no matter how bizarre, strange, magical, ridiculous or unscientific, will be left unturned.
"If we go down we go down fighting, it is our way; I want your ideas, if you don't have any I want you to go out on to the streets and find some, spread the word, people are an imaginative lot at all levels, tell them the world is fighting back by every method possible, and we need their help. Humanity has survived global wars, plagues, diseases on a nightmare scale that initially seemed insurmountable, we beat all those; we will beat this; humanity will survive. I want solutions, and I want them now, be back here in an hour with them or have a damned good reason why you're not."
They fled the House with an exhilaration and enthusiasm they hadn't felt for years, after all they had just been relieved of a death sentence, as had their loved ones. A few stayed to confer with each other, some even questioned the sanity of it all, but sanity was a word that had been redefined.

"We have radio communications with the Vatican," announced John to a much revitalised leader.
"Excellent, do we have a translator?"
"They have one their end."
"Good, remind me, how do I address him?"
"'Your Holiness,' but it's not important, most translators correct lapses in protocol unless otherwise instructed."
They hurried to her office. "Update me."
"The suicide pills hadn't been fully distributed. Those that have are being retrieved. There are no reports of any premature usage. Some countries are willing to support Genesis at a local level, they have no methods of transporting children and minders to these shores if these shores are the closest to the island; they are suggesting that their race be supported at a local level if possible, even if it is at a reduced number, as long as the ethnic children meet required criteria. If this isn't possible they're asking photographs and a script of their history be placed on the island in memory; they all send their blessings and prayers for success."
"Do we have enough power and flight capabilities to affect transportation from these countries?"
"I sincerely doubt it, but I will consult with the military on this possibility."
"Let's pray it doesn't come to that." She took a long deep breath to compose herself before speaking. "Your Holiness, my warmest greetings; forgive my haste but I have a few days to attempt the impossible; have you been briefed of my proposals?"
Reception was intermittent to say the least on this old shortwave transceiver, electronic bird whistles and outer space crackles faded in and out as if God Himself was trying to have a say, but through it all dialogue was established, translated, and on the whole successful. Confusion about a United Faith Church was explained as not a new faith, more recognised religions standing side by side in united prayer to all Gods. This message was relayed to all religions and faiths across the globe and not a single one had problems with the proposal.
In three hours all beliefs would unite in prayer. Where geographically possible physically side by side holding hands, if not then side by side in thought, at a spiritual level the world was united.

The House not so much reconvened but busied itself in small clusters of politicians proposing, relaying and discussing ideas. Security was low level as members of the public wondered almost freely in the main areas, some with ideas, some just in curiosity, and some with small children and hope. On the whole there were no problems, occasionally an over zealous or eccentric person had to be ushered out discretely, one in particular protested loudly, claimed he really did have a solution.
"Wait, what is the problem?" asked John.
"Everything's under control sir, he's just a little mad."
"With no disrespect may I be the judge of that?"
"Sir, he's proposing time travel. I think the House is busy enough."
"Let him speak."
The young man angrily released himself from the guards grip, glared at him as he redressed his dishevelled clothing, turned to the secretary. "Time travel exists; ask the leader, it is a fact that I know, the military are notorious for suppressing such information. I don't know the specifics but if we can send someone back, or if that's not possible, send back evidence, photographs, records, current data, who won the 2006 world cup, whatever, but communicate with the past in some way then we might be able to arrest these past blunders and rewrite history."
The guard rolled his eyes, but the secretary was deep in thought.
"Ok, let's just think about this, we send back a message assuming we can, and assuming they correct the historical mistakes we suggest, why are we having this conversation?"
"Oh man, have you never watched a single science fiction movie in you life? There are parallel time lines. We are somewhere else right now sitting in a park listening to the birds sing."
"Come with me." The secretary brought the man to the office leaving the bewildered guard shaking his head.
"Does time travel exist?" John asked D.
"I am not aware of it, or any project working on it." She looked at the young man and had the situation sussed. "Wait," she asked pressing a button on her desk, "Get me Franklin… I don't care how busy he is, get me him now."
There was a short pause with all three lost in imagination and credibility before she reacted to a reply.
"Do we have time travel capability...? Damn you, you bastard don't laugh at me; I'm trying to save the lives of your wife and children." There was a long one sided conversation at the end of which she thanked him.
She turned to the young man. "I can most definitely assure you that time travel does not exist within my government, or, to the best of our knowledge, any other power, much as I wish it did at this moment. I do however thank you for your idea. Is there anything else we can do for you?"
The young man nodded, but not in affirmation, mumbled some thanks and left a little awkwardly.

"Update me."
"No pertinent developments," the secretary stated.
"Do I need to address the House?"
"They seem quite busy."
"Good." She paused as if it were needed to switch off some enforced high level of concentration. "Not even one of those small plastic bottles of whiskey you used to get on flights?"
John smiled, "I'll find you something if I possibly can."
The door knocked and a guard entered. "A young boy wants to speak with you?"
"Zak?"
"I'm sorry; I don't know."
"Show him in."
It wasn't Zak, but a red haired boy a few years older. "Do come in. How can I help you? Or, hopefully, how can you help me?"
"I know how to regenerate ozone," was his simple reply.
"Go on."
"Salt," he stated with an air of arrogance as if further explanation should not be necessary.
"I'm open to more information."
"Have you heard of salt lamps?" the boy enquired.
"Are they those orange rock lamps you sometimes see in peoples' homes?"
"Yes," replied the boy raising an eyebrow in unexpected surprise at the expanse of her knowledge. "They ionise the air, I believe an increase in negative ions could assist the oxygen ozone regeneration."
"Well as this may be true I fail to see how table lamps at a ground level are going to generate enough ionised air to reinforce the ozone layer 20 kilometres up."
"10 to 40 kilometres up actually," asserted the boy, "and I'm not foolish enough to suggest that lamps could possibly do enough. But, what about the Himalayan salt mines? Turn the whole mine into a lamp. Light a bonfire in the heart of the mines, the effect won't be immediate, but keep it going and it will certainly affect the ozone layer, after all, they're high enough to be in the stratosphere."
"The peaks are but are the mines?" The boy fumbled, raised an eyebrow, he wasn't used to being cerebrally outgunned by a female. "Come, I want you to talk to my Blue Project staff. I feel your idea a tad fanciful, but I have a 'no stone unturned' policy, if you can convince them it could help you have a go ahead, a bonfire isn't going to exhaust resources, and if nothing else it would be a hell of a sight. I have an inside man in the area too, the Dalai Lama, you don't by any chance speak Tibetan?"
He returned her glance, raised an eyebrow, "Which dialect?"
She left him to put his theory to a Blue Project scientist, another red head, perhaps if the idea, surreal as it sounded, could convince her, and produce positive results, the two would become the Adam and Eve of the new Bible, appendix 2; although playing Cupid was really just a momentary whim. The leader left them together and talked deeply with the Project leader, still only a state of erratic balance was being monitored in the stratosphere; they even had a name for it: leaky bucket syndrome. The situation was exasperating; it was becoming a question of which would happen first, exhaustion at a political and scientific level, or global wipe out. D left engaging a gear that wasn't in the gearbox, running on empty had reached a higher level.

"There's a rather dishevelled, once famous I'm reliably informed, rock star wishing to see you. Something about a concert I believe. Shall I show him in?"
"I haven't had time to play an mp4 in ages. Which one is it?"
"He goes by the name of Dog Biscuit I'm informed," claimed John rather uncomfortably.
"No stone," she stated. The secretary gave her an enquiring look. "Show him in, there's nothing left to lose."
Her thoughts had time to wonder only long enough before an unshaven Irishman wearing dark glasses greeted her, not so much verbally but with the broadest smile she'd seen in a long time.
"Thank you for your time and visit Mr. Biscuit, please forgive me, I haven't had a lot of time for the arts, and I must confess I'm unfamiliar with your music."
"Please call me Dog, and it's me that should humbly thank you, saviour of the planet."
"If only, if only; I will not insult your intelligence with false hopes, it is not looking good... Now, what can I do for you?"
"A concert, the healing power of music, I am sure it will have great and beneficial effects for our mutual desires, the world whole again as one, in harmony."
"If only it were as simple as another massive benefit concert, no disrespect intended to you or your co-performers, but wonderful as past concerts have been for the young I fail to see how music can correct the weather. And quite simply Mr. Dog, we just can't spare the power you would require for such an event."
"Who said massive?" he replied. There was something intoxicating about his irreverent smile, something mysterious about this rock star, the dark glasses indoors, the way he held himself, leaning back proud; days before Armageddon anyone who could smile must have some ethereal quality. He picked up on her thoughts, "Sometimes the image overtakes the reality, and when that happens in my business, the image becomes the reality; I would feel incomplete in public without my shades, it would only disappoint my fans; like yourself we have our duties to the public... I don't need your valuable power; that can be better addressed to other needs; but I do need your permission."
"You have me at a loss."
"The concert can be acoustic, no power required, except that of the artists, their creation, the power of their song; and the power of belief, that of the audience; and the power of nature, Mother. I would like myself and some fellow artists to perform an 'At one with nature, please forgive us' concert, in the only way possible left to be close to nature, in the city green houses. I am positive that if we are at one with Mother Nature, we can all benefit, we can unify as one, and correct this madness. I'm informed that soon there will be the power of prayer, then why not the power of song, for the benefit of mankind?"
"No disrespect to your gender Mr. Dog but I prefer the word 'humanity,' and… 'cool,' if that is the current hip term, as your idea might be to you, I cannot in anyway endanger the green houses to a mass gathering of… well what is basically a party of well doers. No, it's out of the question. By all means do have your concert some starlit night, your acoustic gathering, enjoy what might be your last days on earth in the ways best fitting to your pop culture, but do not ask me to risk our last vegetables and flowers, and let us be perfectly frank here, concerts, youth concerts, do not have the best behavioural records."
"Dog, not Mr. Dog, and humanity, you're right, please forgive centuries of my sex oppressing yours. But a concert outside, near or beside will have no healing power whatsoever, it has to be 'as one with nature,' nothing else will work, can work, or come close. I am not talking thousands here, ten or twelve musicians, twenty five, thirty select, sensible, beautiful people, organic farmers, faith healers, druids, complimentary therapists, naturalists, just some new age people in love with nature, Mother will hear them; we just want to hug some trees; we just want to say 'Hello', maybe even 'Goodbye', but most of all, 'Forgive us'."
"You know I can't risk this; I can't authorise this."
"At the first sign of trouble let a guard shoot me down dead. That is how confident I am of the pure peace intent of this project."
"That is one mistake I most definitely will not be ordering again," she sighed, rubbed her temples, fatigue was taking over.
"With your permission," Dog stepped closer, behind her, gently supported her shoulders and neck, took her weight upon his body, massaged tense tortured muscles, absorbed her pain, tried to take away the tragedy ripping through her head. It was a long, long time since anything had felt so natural, good, useful, so comforting, maybe it was against all rules of protocol, but just for a few moments she let herself fall to his bohemian touch, just melted away from this impossible job for a few seconds, let the insanity of a hundred years of governmental blundering, dumped, upon her shoulders, disappear, or at least, appear to. The door opened like an axe.
"Ten minutes before the united faith prayer, I'm sure you'll want to address the House beforehand," said the secretary. If there was any surprise at the intimacy of the situation he showed no outward sign of it.
"Two minutes, I'll be there," D replied, followed by a sigh. Dog didn't stop, just slowly eased his touch, and softly kissed the top of her head as he let her return to reality. "Mr. Biscuit, are you flirting with a world leader?"
"Do you want me to?"
She smiled, "You should be a politician, always return a difficult question with another question. Are you a religious man?"
"I have some Gods I answer to."
"And Mother Nature is one of them."
"As is one of yours," he proposed.
"Please, take off your glasses," she asked. "Can you assure me not one vegetable or plant will be damaged?"
"With my life," he insisted.
"That much won't be necessary. You can have you concert tomorrow in 'one' green house. Do all you have to do but do it gently, and with respect, it is a finely balanced ecosystem, do nothing to upset it; twenty people, that includes both artists and audience, no more."
"I need thirty," he gently insisted.
"Twenty."
"Twenty five and it might work."
"This is not a bargaining situation here."
"Please, I need their energy, what harm will five more do?"
She paused. "You really do believe you can commune with Mother Nature?" He nodded. She looked deep into his eyes at his truth, there was so much powerful self belief inside this rough exterior, could it just be ego? "Ok," she replied, "Thirty. And I wish you every success. Now," she said, composing herself for another world, "shall we pray?"

And in the large governmental hall, a frantic historical twelve hours, ended quietly, reverently, apologetically. Most held hands with heads bowed, some chose to kneel, a few embraced, and a lone voice recited The Lord's Prayer; 'Amen's echoed in sympathy and some pondered the last line; three Buddhists sat on the carpet and chanted, some none Buddhists came and joined them in solidarity, elderly politicians are not renowned for their fitness but managed to cross their legs rather than attempt full lotus; heads of state and ordinary public stood side by side, old and young together, a world leader, her secretary, an enigmatic rock and roll star holding hands, praying to Mother, asking for a second chance.
And all across the world religions unified, Arabs in Synagogues, Christians in Mosques, Protestants and Catholics holding hands in Vatican Square as the Pope blessed them equally, there was nowhere in the night world in a populated quarter that you couldn't hear the ambient drone of a prayer coming from somewhere, and although drowned out by the storms in the day world, reports did come in from some parts, that the raging planet, did appear to ease, if only a little.

the fixer song

"You're doing it all wrong!" she screamed.
The Blue Project leader shook his head defiantly, "We are making progress. We have increased ozone density by three percent. I have the finest brains in the land working with me and we are constantly sharing information globally with our counterparts in other countries. Who the hell are you?"
"Who I am is of no importance. What you are is an asshole. You cannot repair a goddamned stratosphere with synthetic ozone, it's too unstable."
"The whole oxygen ozone cycle works by being unstable, it's inherent. You're just talking bollocks."
"And a good morning to you too," greeted D with a sigh, part resignation, part surprise, if such a mood were possible. "I see we have a conflict of ideas here. Who are you, and how did you get into a secure area?"
The woman shrugged, "No one stopped me."
Again, another sigh, this time with a rolling of eyes, "I'm going to have breakfast. I think it might be fruitful if you two joined me, is it day or night?" Simultaneously both informed her it was night time and glared at each other for actually agreeing on something. "Ok, let's have it in the observation lounge," and turning to the woman added, "There's no steps."
The observation lounge was no more than a room with a glass roof for observing the weather; the rising sun would never blind anyone as there were no windows in the walls. Breakfast was brought to them consisting of coffee, bread biscuits, cheese, sliced tomato and some grapes.
"Cheese?" enquired the woman, "I didn't know it still existed, and is that 'real' coffee?"
"Being the boss has a few perks, not many, but a few, we didn't totally annihilate all animals and plants; in fact we've successfully bred nineteen calves locally with four more due. I'm sorry, I'm forgetting myself, call me D, and this is your new best friend Winston. You go by?"
"Holly," she replied accepting a cup of black coffee, "Thank you."
Her bald head and bony frame gave her an androgynous look, if it wasn't for her fiery temper she could almost pass as other worldly.
"Update me," she asked, handing a cup to Winston.
"It's difficult to tell without satellite communications, we can only monitor the stratosphere locally. I would tentatively estimate a two to three percent increase in ozone, possibly and optimistic four, but with jet streams and turbulence it quite impossible to be exact."
"Not enough, but let's be positive, we're moving in the right direction." Holly fidgeted agitatedly in her chair anticipating her turn to trash this. "And you would like to add?" asked D picking up on this.
"As I told this… man, earlier," she stated, with disdain, "ok wait, wait, a truce, deep breaths… Let's be constructive here and thrash this out together. I have an idea to boost the natural generation of ozone; synthetic will only work for a short period. If we can saturate the sunrise with oxygen it will be converted into its atomic state by the massive bombardment of ultra violet, and as we all know, atomic oxygen wastes no time becoming ozone. Ultra violet in the direct sunlight is probably a thousand, even ten thousand times higher than normal at ground level now. Has it been measured?" she enquired looking to Winston. But he didn't answer, not through any rudeness, just seemed lost in mathematical calculations; on another planet might be an apt description of him, a man who could do mathematics quite freely in binary or hexadecimal.
"But isn't this happening every sunrise?" asked D.
"Yes, of course, but we need to increase levels, turbo charge it if you like; we need more oxygen. The sunrise is happening somewhere on the planet as we speak, the planet is continually being bombarded somewhere with high energy ultra violet. Harness this energy. Use it to do what used to happen in the stratosphere but at ground level."
"But how does it reach the stratosphere, and how do we affect a saturation of oxygen?"
"We have to do it manually. Nature is doing it with waves at sea level. It used to do it with plant life but that's too depleted to have much effect anymore. We quite simply have to physically release oxygen from cylinders before dawn all over the planet. How it gets up is another prayer. Hopefully there will be enough thermal vectors from the sun itself heating up the air and land to carry it high enough. The physical process itself generates heat at an atomic level which should help. Even being released from the cylinders is a jet effect, point them skyward."
Winston spoke briefly, "In theory this works. In practice the storms will disperse the ozone."
"I know," sighed Holly, "I'm just hoping the massive updraft can have an effect before the winds hit. There are six, seven, sometimes even fifteen minutes before they kick in, although the latter is unusual."
"Hospitals, factories, oxygen cylinders are everywhere, all over the planet; almost every manufacturing industry will have some. They're probably just sitting there; they'd be no use to toasters. This could help, if it, or part, could reach the stratosphere; its success is proportional to the amount of oxygen available and the amount of ozone that gets there, but the raw theory of the reaction is viable. This idea could buy us some time."
"Get your facts right, coordinate this," announced D slapping her thighs, "relay it to all Project leaders. I'd like to say I want this happening by the next sunrise but that's already happening somewhere; I want it happening in that somewhere next sunrise. Get the military in on the manual implementation of things, manoeuvres close to sunrise can be dangerous, keep it professional. Find that oxygen, and where it can't be found, get industry manufacturing it, increase their power quota. No stone unturned." She downed her coffee and set off to address the House glancing back at 'the new best friends' and thought - 'Sarcasm? How wrong I was.'

"Update me," asked a busy John.
"Isn't that my line?" she retorted. "We're winning. It's a miniscule win, but we are beating this. All methods must continue, and I'm still open to new ones, I see no reason unified prayer should not be constant, that was an enormous sensation last night, day, whatever, I've lost track of time."
"That opinion seems to be reflected globally, there's no need for any further directives on it, it will continue until the err… end, either way," assured John. "There was a new idea came in, the ritual sacrifice of virgins to the sun god, but it was dismissed due to a lack of virgins locally, most decided at the announcement of a mass cull to go out with a bang rather than a whimper."
D stopped in her tracks and looked at him, "I'm hoping this is a joke."
"Yes, I'm sorry," he admitted, "not in very good taste."
"Apology accepted," she said, looking at him curiously as if previous assessments may have been wrong, but as she resumed pace she couldn't help but smile; and cautiously, even slightly rebelliously, John did too.

"I see a small light at the end of a long and dark tunnel," announced D to the House. "Ozone is on the up, albeit ever so slight, but if we keep the graph ascending then we have hope for the future. One third of the children and minders have already been delivered to the Genesis Island, I cannot tell you of its location, that has been deemed by the authorities as classified, top secret; I'm sure I could find out but I think this method is best, I see no benefit from this knowledge, just the knowledge of its success is enough.
"Blue Project engineers have relayed a few components that have been overlooked, these needs will be addressed soon with the delivery of the final children, animals, fruit, vegetables and plant life, and when this is complete; and hopefully unnecessary I cautiously add with our current ozone status; Genesis should be fully self sufficient.
"But I do feel our own global success is imminent, so Plan D, or whatever further new dynamic name you pick, will soon be implemented, the regeneration of our wildlife, both flora and fauna. Initially the empty space generated in the world's city green houses produced by the creation of Genesis Island will be utilised. Hopefully next, as ozone increases to more favourable levels, this drastic weather will abate, the regeneration of our barren lands will be addressed. And anyone who doubts the propagating powers of plant life should be reminded of a thirty thousand acre farm in South Africa that was created in three years, from a single spider plant.
"People, I cautiously and optimistically thank you, and the whole of humanity thanks you too. Now if you'll forgive me, I need to don my tie-dye t-shirt and holy jeans, unconventional as that may sound but it is only metaphorical. Even the boss needs a break; I'm taking thirty minutes off; I have a small but quite possibly important concert to go to."

Unless you lived in the green house or were one of its many gardeners, you could never but be totally bowled over by its beauty, its sheer lush fullness; how could we ever have considered destroying anything so powerful, so full of life? For two kilometres an otherworld kingdom stretched in magnificence, this was just one of so many domes, each had its own environmental settings optimised for the plant life and animals that dwelt there from whatever global region, huge lamps and humidity jets controlled a fine eco-balance, compared to the raging planet outside it was a humbling experience for any human who dared put self success above nature.
As promised musical activity was low key, a collection of artists and followers of whom it was hard to tell which were which so integrated was the feel of this group, together they recited poetry, sang songs and danced in harmony, in celebration, at one with nature.
No damage was caused, not a flower picked, and some really were simply just hugging trees as equals. Even the wild life seemed to sense the beauty of what was happening as birds and butterflies lighted on heads and shoulders, as undomesticated animals sat beside humans happy to be stroked.
"Thirty?" D queried.
Dog smiled. "Would I be a credible rock and roll star if I didn't rebel against the shackles of authority? I promise you with all my heart there will be no damage. I feel you know this, sense it in all you see, these are beautiful people. We are as one with Mother; can't you feel her presence too?"
She sighed, but not from his irresponsibility, from lost wonder, if ever she had doubts or misgivings about her duties they were all reinforced by this sight, and her purpose for the next year, the next natural cycle, was clear; the world must become like this once more. "There's a naked man over there, I sincerely hope he's not going to start smoking any of the plants."
Dog laughed, "I think I should sing a song."
"Please do," replied D, "and when all this is over; and I know it will be successful, I can feel its power too; come back and see me. Perhaps I will bestow some title or honour upon you, although that might lose you all your street credibility, but would I not be a worthy world leader if I did not keep in check a rock and roll rebel?"
Dog laughed again, and in keeping with all that was him, took her hand and bowed to kiss it, then returned to his guitar.

"This is an old but beautiful song, a song for Mother, an apology. I'd like you all to sing along."

"Well, I dreamed I saw the knights
In armor coming,
Saying something about a queen.
There were peasants singing and
Drummers drumming
And the archer split the tree.
There was a fanfare blowing
To the sun
That was floating on the breeze.
Look at Mother Nature on the run
In the nineteen seventies.
Look at Mother Nature on the run
In the nineteen seventies.

"I was lying in a burned out basement
With the full moon in my eyes.
I was hoping for replacement
When the sun burst thru the sky.
There was a band playing in my head
And I felt like getting high.
I was thinking about what a
Friend had said
I was hoping it was a lie.
Thinking about what a
Friend had said
I was hoping it was a lie.

"Well, I dreamed I saw the silver
Space ships flying
In the yellow haze of the sun,
There were children crying
And colors flying
All around the chosen ones.
All in a dream, all in a dream
The loading had begun.
They were flying Mother Nature's
Silver seed to a new home in the sun.
Flying Mother Nature's
Silver seed to a new home."

'After the Goldrush' Neil Young 1970

D marvelled at this beauty and quietly left, somehow with her position she felt a little out of place and guilty, if not her, then maybe her kind, were responsible for all the wrongs in this world, all the political calamities, all culminating in the state of the outside, this inside was not for a politician, a politician's place was outside, and to fix outside. She had endless work to do; she doubted if she would ever see Dog again. As she left the merriment faded behind her…

"…They took all the trees
And put them in a tree museum
And they charged all the people
A dollar and a half just to see 'em
Don't it always seem to go
That you don't know what you've got
Till it's gone
They paved paradise
And put up a parking lot.
"Hey farmer farmer
Put away that D.D.T. now
Give me
Spots on my apples
But leave me the birds and the bees
Please....!"

'Big Yellow Taxi' Joni Mitchell 1970

ifuture

Winston's face was ashen.

D instantly knew there were problems. "Update me." Her whole body emptied of feeling.
"It's collapsing, rapidly, the ozone is falling; we've lost two point seven percent in hours. I've confirmed these figures globally, it all checks out."
"Do we know the cause?"
He shook his head. He was baffled. He tried to speak but couldn't add more data, nothing made sense; all his instruments coldly calculated for him, the layer was disintegrating.
"It could be a glitch, a dip in the graph, not everything's linear, it could turn and climb," demanded D desperately.
"Not a two point seven percent dip, look, if I increase to three decimal places I can see the figure falling, normally at that scale figures are very erratic, this is not, this is very much non erratic and negative, at this rate the layer will be nothing in 48 hours."
"And the weather?" she demanded, not really wanting the answer.
"Unlimited, relentless, there will be no meteorological mercy, you might think this is bad now but it will be nothing compared to the nightmare that's imminent."
She fell back in a seat that she didn't even know was there. The dream had ended. She had failed. All their hard, frantic work was displayed on the face of a machine that couldn't give a damn, without feeling it beeped away all hope of humanity's existence as the numbers counted down to zero hour. Empty, exhausted, she knew she had one last duty to perform, like gravestone she dragged herself to her feet.

"People, if my heart was heavy a few days ago then now I can only describe it as gone. I must with regret as heavy as sin, inform the House of Blue Project's failure, the ozone layer is collapsing, within a matter of days, two, possibly five at extreme optimism, though optimism is difficult to conjure with these hard facts, we will be thrust into meteorological chaos of a scale as yet unimaginable, mass humanity, flora and fauna, will be totally annihilated, our only hope, our prayers, must solely be for Genesis.
"With this in mind, I would like to add some hurried amendments; now more than ever, I feel the addition of some minority races that have not yet been represented on the island, through the problem of logistics and location, should receive our full attention, and with all that is left of a failing transport structure, be prioritised in one last island delivery. And I state the great importance of this island as a multi culture future world, even if original IQ level and criteria requirements are not satisfactory, it must I believe go ahead; perhaps if everyone on the island is not as smart as we thought we were, they will not grow up to make the same mistakes we did.
"Also, a small boy who recently opened my eyes, a boy called Zak, he asked if he could one day see a rainbow, and I promised I'd do everything I could to make this come true; I would like to keep that promise; and if there are no House objections, I would like him to be sent to the island too; he's bright; he has vision; he has dreams; perhaps someday he will be a leader, and succeed were I have failed.
"Now if the House will excuse me, I am very, very tired. I thank, respect, admire, and love you all."
There was a desperate hush as D left the podium; politicians of all nations were dumbfounded. One woman at the back stood up and started applauding, three men stood up too, and finally the whole House were on their feet praising her for her endless unfaltering leadership of past months, her global crusade.
D didn't even hear them.

"I don't want to go," cried Zak as he sobbed in his Grandfathers arms.
"You must Zak, you must. It's such a wonderful opportunity; if you stay hear you know you will die."
"But I won't leave you, only if you and mum and dad can come too; who will teach me?"
"There will be teachers on the island much smarter than me, you know that. I have lived a full life and my years are numbered, it wouldn't be right me taking some young child's place. Now sit up and dry those eyes, be a brave boy, you're going on a great adventure."
Zak sat up and did as bid. Deep inside he knew Grandfather was right; it was just hard for one so young to understand this cruel world. But understand he did, and with a hollow feeling inside he knew his duties. They had come to say thank you to the leader and were waiting in the observation lounge till she was rested. Mother and Father were packing for him and soon he would return for some tragic goodbyes, and the crying would start again in earnest. But he must be brave, he had a job to do now, a purpose in life; he was now a pioneer, and pioneers don't cry.
"I can't even write to you in heaven. I'll be all alone."
"No, but you can pray, it's the same thing, we will hear your prayers. And we will be happy in heaven knowing you are alive and happy here, you know that's how we would want things if we had the choice, and now the choice has been made for us so we must embrace it. I feel you're a very special boy Zak, I think you're going to grow up into a very special man soon."
"But we never seen the rainbow together."
"We never saw the rainbow together," smiled Grandfather.
"We didn't even find out the seventh colour," he sighed.
"It's indigo," answered Gramps.
"How did you find out?"
"I don't know, it just popped into my head, sometimes it happens that way."
"What colour's indigo?" asked Zak.
"Oh it's kind of all the dark blues and dark purples and navies rolled into one; it's so dark it's almost black, but not quite. I think if magic had a colour it would be indigo."
"Like the colour of the sky," said Zak.
"No," sighed Gramps, "unfortunately that's just black."
"No it isn't, look, it's an indigo."
Grandfather looked up at the night sky, only to realise it was the dawn sky. But not the usual dawn of the sun cutting into the black, this was different, this was like a sky that hadn't been seen before; this was a new sky, a new dawn.
"Why does it look different Gramps?"
"Ozone," answered Grandfather, in his quiet unassuming way. "It has to be ozone, nothing else could cause it. Ozone makes the sky blue so what does it mean if the sky's indigo?"
"Quarter ozone," answered Zak with a squeal.
"I think we'd better tell someone in case we're the only two who can see it, although to be honest Zak, I'm finding it hard to take my eyes off it, I just don't want to look back and find it gone. I'm afraid to blink."
"Can I tell D?"
"I have a feeling that she might like to wake up to a sight like this. We'd better hurry; if it clouds over they'll think we're mad."
A single guard stood outside her private quarters. "We have an important message for the leader," said Grandfather.
"I'm sorry sir; I have my orders."
"This boy wants to tell D the sky's fixed. Do you really want to be the one to deprive her of that information?"
"With all due respect sir, the sky isn't fixed, quite the opposite."
"I think you should come with me young man, I have something to show you."

For the second time in a week D and Zak embraced unashamedly. Then hand in hand they went to the observation lounge where a guard was standing looking skyward with tears running down his face. It was a site for the whole world to wake up to and rejoice.
A rumpus was heard from a corridor nearby and difficult as it was for D to pull herself away from this spectacle duty brought her to investigate. One would have thought the guard would accompany her but he was quite simply lost in amazement.
"Get off me you bastards I need to see Winston," screamed Holly as she outran them in her wheelchair crashing through doors.
"Winston! Winston! We need to recalibrate the instruments from synthetic to natural ozone; the readings will all be up the left!"
"Up the left? Is that a technical term?" he queried. "It's ok," he said turning to the two exhausted guards, "she's a friend of mine." He threw a few switches and changed a plug on the back. "Hmmm," he declared, "twenty three percent, it hasn't been that high for a few months. You do know what this means?" he asked of Holly.
"Yeah," she answered, "it means we're both assholes."
She started laughing loudly and Winston smiled, in fact after a few seconds he felt some awkward sounds in his breathing, they were clumsy spasmodic burst from his throat, almost so difficult he had to concentrate to make it work; Winston was laughing; it had been so long he had forgotten how to do it, and all things considered, he quite enjoyed it.
"Nice to see everything is under control," said D watching from the doorway, "I guess you'll do anything for some free cheese and coffee," she directed at Holly, "even save the planet."

"It is with great pride and pleasure that I must inform the House of a small turn in events last night. The sky is fixed."
A great roar of celebration filled the hall, everyone, who of course already knew as the news had spread through the city like butter on hot toast, rejoiced, hugged and patted each others' backs, shook hands, and beamed.
"Let us not make the same mistakes twice.
"I propose sweeping new reforms, money and greed almost killed us, if it wasn't for drastic actions implemented over the last eight months, the world would surely have perished. Let us learn from this, let us take a step backwards from so called progress. Let us continue with this non profit making structure, there is so much work ahead of us, so much rebuilding, growing and breeding, let us use this need to build a world where we work together, as much for our neighbour as ourselves. I want you all to put your fine heads together and create a workable barter system at a local and international level. It won't be easy and it will feel very alien to many but I do believe it is viable. I want your ideas by tomorrow, and if you don't have any, I want a damned good reason why not."
The House simultaneously rose to their feet to applaud and cheer her, and this time she heard them.
All over the planet the military continued to release oxygen before dawn, even toasters joined their ranks to help, and within a month ozone had recovered to seventy two percent and rising. Pesticides were banned; an organic policy was implemented to great success.

"It's gorgeous," Zak told Gramps.
"Yes," said Grandfather, "even to an old man like me. You know Zak, I think that rainbow is smiling at you."
"Don't be silly Gramps; it looks more like a frown."
"It's a metaphor Zak, maybe you should've gone to that island; I seem to have been no use to you at all."
"Don't be silly Gramps, without you I wouldn't be alive.
And the two stood hand in hand and watched till the last colour faded and Zak hesitantly worked up the courage to ask for a pet platypus.

Back in the House politicians of all parties worked together to implement all the new reforms, there was an air of well being, happiness and direction, some thought of a return to the old political structure, but no one mentioned it; if it's not broke don't fix it.
"Did you get it?" asked John.
Dog showed him the contents of the package, "Yip, I got it."
"Wonderful, wait in her office, I'll go and get her." He went off to look for D.
"There's someone waiting for you in your office, I feel something important has come up," said John.
"Who is it? What's happening?" queried D.
"Someone called Jack, I thought you wanted to see him," answered John shamming confusion.
She looked at him suspiciously, he was never good at lying to her, but curiosity drew her to her office, albeit a little apprehensively.
"Dog, what a surprise to see you again, is Jack really your name?"
Dog smiled one of his long, irreverent, mischievous grins. "I think that's a reference to this," he admitted pulling a bottle from his coat pocket.
"Oh my good Lord, Jack Daniels, where on this earth did you get a bottle of whiskey?"
"I have some Gods I answer to, and sometimes they answer me."