Koalas, Lone Pine Koala Sanctuary (Photo: M. Griffiths)
This story, 'Promised Land' is included in the anthology:
A previous set of stories was published in 2012 in a book entitled After Oil: SF Visions of a Post-Petroleum World, available from Amazon (Amazon) or in Australia from Fishpond (Fishpond).
This is a sequel to Robots on Mars.
Promised Land
By Matthew Griffiths
Monday
“Gidday. What can I do for you?” Craig Bowen stood in the doorway of
his workshop, taking in the new arrivals parked outside.
“The garage seems like it’s closed,” said the driver through the open
window.
“Yeah. The mechanic’s away. What’s the problem?”
The man looked up at the large, faded wooden sign above the door.
Bowen the Blacksmith: Smithing, Welding and Elec-trickery.
“Broke something on the way up. Suspension I think. Front left.
Someone really needs to fix that road,” said the driver.
“You’ll be lucky, mate. This is north Queensland, not the main street
of wherever you’ve come from.”
“Brisbane.”
“Ah. Might be able to fix it, depends what it is. Get you to
Townsville or wherever you’re going anyway.”
Craig eyed the car. A ’47 Tesla electric, imported and very expensive.
Then he looked at the driver: suit, expensive sunglasses, soft hands. The woman
in the passenger seat also wore a suit jacket and matching sunglasses.
“Can you have a look?” the man asked.
Craig looked at his watch. It was almost 5.30pm. Home and dinner were
calling. The beef and vegetable stew would be sitting ready to eat on the solar
dish. Still, it didn’t pay to turn away a customer.
“All right. Pop the lid.”
He leaned over the engine compartment and examined the suspension. The
man and woman got out and stood beside the car watching. The woman lit up a
cigarette.
“The rod is busted. I can probably weld it up enough to get you going
again, if you take it slowly and avoid the potholes the rest of the way.”
“That’s ok. We’re planning to stay a few days anyway.” said the man.
Craig raised an eyebrow. “It doesn’t usually take that long to exhaust
the sights round here.”
“We’ll see.” said the man smiling. He held out his hand. “Drew
Mitcham.”
“Craig Bowen.” said Craig shaking it, and then the woman’s.
“Karen Burnett.”
“Nice to meet you.” He turned back to Mitcham. “Leave the car here.
I’ll take it out in the morning. The hotel is just down the street.”
“Ok. Great. Thanks.” The man opened the boot, pulled out their
luggage, and handed over the keys. “Will it be ready by, say, lunch time
tomorrow?”
“Yeah, no worries. Should be enough time for the panels to juice up
the batteries for the arc welder. Grid power will cost you extra.”
The man nodded, glanced at his companion, then back to Craig.
“I understand there’s a Shire Council meeting here tonight. Is that
right?”
“Yeah. That’s right.” Craig looked them up and down again. “You guys
really are short on entertainment.”
The man smiled. “Come along and find out.”
Craig watched them wheel their bags slowly down the main street past
the hardware store, the credit union, the council office, and across the road
to the hotel. Then he turned, locked the door of the workshop and walked home.
Drew Mitcham stood before the Council. “Government policy is to
develop the regions. We might be in a steady state economy but that doesn’t
mean that we can’t increase production in some areas and agriculture is a prime
candidate. We are the Sunshine State after all, and we have high rainfall and
lots of land, we just need to use it better. Government land, like these
underutilised national parks and state lease land, is the perfect place to
start. In this shire that includes Black Top Mountain and Lake Sutherland
National Parks plus considerable lease land nearby.” Mitcham smiled and waved
his hand in the direction of the mountain.
The council sat around the large, oval-shaped wooden table, polished
to a shine as it had been for nearly one hundred years. It matched the wooden
panels on the walls, which recorded the names of the mayors of the shire over
the decades. The rest of the room was less appealing. The carpet under the
chairs of the councillors was worn and the white of the plaster ceiling had
turned a dull cream.
Councillor Martin Thurston-Hawley, his long hair tied in a ponytail,
spoke. “It’s forty years since the global financial crisis and peak oil. Trying
to reinflate that bubble is just a pipe dream. They tried big agricultural
development up north decades ago. The companies pocketed the subsidies, ran it
for a few years and left behind a big mess.”
“Yeah. I heard about that.” whispered Craig, sitting in the public
seats at the back of the room. “And the rainfall is fine, except in a drought.”
Next to him he felt his cousin Alex bristle. “They’ll never get away
with this. And if they try they’ll have a fight on their hands.”
Craig grinned. He knew better than to cross Alex. He could still
remember her cow pat tricks when they were kids.
“Councillor Crawford?” said the Mayor. She wore a navy blue jacket
over a blue knit top, her grey hair cut in a business-like bob. She nodded
towards Joe.
“Thank you, Madam Mayor.” Joe Crawford paused and turned to the
visitors. “Mr Mitcham, Ms Burnett. I am curious as to the status of the
agreements and legal protections of the parks you refer to. I was not aware
that these had changed.”
Karen Burnett stood up. “The new Queensland State Government, through
the Department of Sustainable Development, is currently preparing legislation
to remove the red tape preventing development of state lands. These properties
have been locked up for too long.”
Joe Crawford spoke again. “Some of those agreements relate to the
relationship of traditional owners with their ancestral lands. How will those
relationships be protected under this new legislation?”
Karen Burnett glanced down before answering. “That aspect is still to
be fleshed out. It is too early to say exactly what the legislation will
contain.”
Craig looked at Joe. His face was impassive but it was a fair bet he
wasn’t happy. He was an elder of the local aboriginal people. They had spent
two hundred years trying to protect and then reclaim their lands and
traditional use rights. Fishing and animal hunting in the parks provided food
and income. He couldn’t imagine they would roll over and let them be taken away
a second time.
“Councillor Graves.” said the Mayor, raising her hand in Paul Graves’
direction.
“This should be interesting.” Craig murmured under his breath.
“This shire has been dependent on cattle for too long. We are lucky we
still have the beef export trade. If not for that we’d be back in the Stone
Age. Development of this land for alternative high value crops will be a boost
for the local economy as well as Queensland as a whole.” Graves stopped for a
quick breath. “This shire has been going backwards for too long. It’s time to
move forward and grab the opportunities that are in front of us.”
“Hear, hear.” a couple of other voices agreed.
“Just like his father.” whispered Craig to Alex.
She nodded. “And grandfather. ‘Mr Progress’, remember? The old duffer
would be spinning in his grave at the idea of refrigerated sailing ships.”
“This is not the mayoral election, Graves.” someone piped up. “Save
your campaign speech for next year.”
The Mayor leaned forward in her seat at the head of the room. “Let’s
keep it seemly, ladies and gentlemen. Everyone gets a fair go around this
table.”
She shifted her attention to the visitors.
“The lands under consideration are important local and regional
resources, as is the groundwater you propose to use for irrigation. The
environmental impacts would need to be carefully assessed. Has any such
assessment been undertaken yet?”
“Well, certainly only the lower slopes of the mountain would be
developed. And the groundwater resources are significant. Subject to specific
investigations we believe there is sufficient water for all users. Detailed
environmental impact statements will be prepared on a case by case basis.”
“What about economic analysis?” asked Martin. “Previous studies into
intensive development concluded it was not viable, particularly with the costs
of set up and infrastructure.”
Mitcham answered smoothly, “Our advice, as consultants to the
government, is that the state should provide incentives for development and
that the benefits will outweigh the costs over the long term. The government
has agreed with this assessment and has allocated funding in the budget.
Cutting of timber in the national parks will also contribute significant
revenue.”
Martin Thurston–Hawley shook his head. Déjà vu all over again.
The Mayor looked at her watch. “Well, that seems enough for tonight.
Those of us riding home need to do so in what’s left of the daylight. I move
that council receives the report of the State Government and its consultants on
the proposed agricultural development, and requests the chief executive and the
council’s planner and engineer to report back on this issue in three days. I
further move that we hold a special meeting of council three days from now,
this Thursday evening, to agree on a response. Do I have a seconder?”
After the council dispersed, Mayor Kaye Bowen convened a short meeting
in her office. “Steve,” Kaye looked towards the chief executive. “I would like
a quick update by the end of tomorrow. I don’t think much of their
‘consultation.’ This smacks of a put up job. We’re being rushed to agree to
something with too little information. We need to cover off all the angles we
can, legal, economic, environmental… anything else you can think of?”
“I’ll talk to the other elders. Some of the older ones might remember
something about the land agreements,” said Joe.
“We’ll check the shire records as well,” Steve said.
“I’m happy to go through the environmental assessment with the
planner,” volunteered Martin, “I’m doubtful it really addresses the issues.”
Kaye nodded. “Go through the economic report with a fine tooth comb
too. We need to know how much the shire will end up having to pay for this
scheme. You guys at the Sunshine Co-op farm know more about intensive
agriculture than the government or its high paid consultants.”
“Maybe. Our style is not monocultures anyway. We use smaller scale
multi-copping. A totally different philosophy. It’s labour intensive but yields
are higher and there are less artificial inputs required.” He smiled. “We might
be hippies but we work hard.”
“They talked about jobs,” said Steve, “but it’s hard to see many
well-paid ones. I heard a rumour that the minimum wage is going to be cut
again. I wonder if there’s a connection.”
Kaye pursed her lips. “You know, if this doesn’t come to pass I think
the council should look at acquiring some of those leases ourselves, and
subdividing. Let families lease smaller lots and encourage the kind of diverse
cropping that the co-op does. That will bring more people and useful work to
the shire than this scheme... Sorry, that’s
a digression. Let’s meet again late tomorrow afternoon to see what we’ve
learned.”
Kaye walked out of the council building and saw Craig and Alex waiting
for her. Finding herself mayor of her old home town had been the last thing
Kaye Bowen expected. She had left the cattle farm outside the town for
university and a high flying career in Brisbane, until the global financial
crisis and the oil decline came. She and her husband had survived for years
longer than most but eventually the problems had claimed his job, and then
hers, and they decided the best option was to return to her family farm to help
out and make a new start. Knowing the district and many of the local families
helped them settle in and find a way to make a living. Later, after some
initial reluctance, she was talked into standing for the council and found that
some of her corporate skills came in handy in politics. She hadn’t been back to
the city once in twenty five years.
“Looks like you have a challenge on your hands, Mum.” said Craig.
She smiled and shrugged. “Makes a change from worrying about whether
the composting toilets in the main street are working properly. What do you two
think about it all?”
“Looks like a beaut plan for some people to make money. Not sure it’s
good for the town,” said Craig. “I got a new customer today though. The
consultants’ car needs fixing.”
“My horse breeding business might be better if more people come,” said
Alex, “but cutting the trees down in the national park won’t do much for the
horse trekking sideline. The lake water quality is bound to suffer too, and the
fish and the birds.” Alex had grown up with the lake and the birds in her
backyard, and was fiercely protective of both.
Kaye nodded. “Despite what Graves says, the population of the town has
been slowly rising again over the last ten years, with people moving out of the
cities and the empty houses are filling up. I’m not sure we want or need this.”
Tuesday
“How’s it looking?” Drew Mitcham approached the car, this time casually dressed in an open neck shirt, jacket, pants and shiny brown boots. Karen Burnett was similarly dressed. Craig had his head under the hood and the car manual from the glove box in his hand. He glanced at them and took in their new appearance. Was this a corporate visiting the country uniform? He shook his head. Townies.
He straightened up. “Well, I’ve welded the rod back together and it
seems to work. I took it down the street and back again and it handled all
right.”
“Good, good.”
“Impressive bit of machinery,” said Craig.
“Yes, carbon fibre chassis and panels, new battery technology, built
in solar PV panels…” Mitcham ran his hand over the roof, “…nice to drive too.”
“Where are you off to today?”
“Visiting some of the potential development sites and talking to the
owners. We might need a recharge when we get back. Will you have enough power?”
“Enough to keep you going for a few days if you’re staying local.
Might need a grid charge overnight to get her full for the trip home.”
“Ok, that’s fine.” Drew looked up and pointed above Craig’s head.
“Sign says you do electrical work too.”
“Yeah. I did a diploma in electrical stuff before I apprenticed to old
Bill, my predecessor. I had ideas of getting into robotics once, when I was a
kid in Brisbane, but the world changed before I got the chance and we ended up
here. Decided metal bashing was probably the better option long term. I tinker
with solar PV systems and keep old technologies going with whatever spare parts
I can get my hands on. Would have been nice to play with stuff like this
though.” He pushed the bonnet down. “Enjoy your afternoon. There’s a thunder
storm predicted for later on, so keep an eye out.”
“Ok, thanks. Here’s my card. We’ll fix you up for the bill before we
head off on Friday morning.” Drew climbed into the car and pushed the start
button. Karen climbed in the other side, briefcase at her feet, and waved a
hand as they backed out onto the street.
A late afternoon summer storm threw rain against the windows of the dim wood-panelled office and thunder could be heard in the distance. Kaye looked at her chief executive.
“Ok, so the economic and environmental issues are what we expected.
Potential benefits and considerable risks.”
Steve nodded. “In a nutshell, yes.”
“Now, the legal status. Are you telling me that the mountain and the
lake and the wetlands around it have been national parks for over one hundred
years but there is no record of it?”
“Pretty much. We can’t find anything.” Steve replied.
“There must be something about it somewhere.” pointed out Martin.
“Does the library hold any archives that might be useful?”
“Good thinking. I’ll get on to Claire at the library in the morning.
Anything else, anyone?” Kaye looked around at the group.
“The government office in Townsville might have something.” suggested
Steve.
“Ok. We can consider that if nothing else turns up.”
Wednesday
Councillor Graves knocked on the half-open door of the Mayor’s office.
Kaye looked up. “Yes?”
“Could I have a word?” Graves asked, smiling as he leaned against the
dark wooden door frame.
“Certainly. What can I do you for you?”
“I think you know what I’m here to discuss.” he began.
“I can guess,” she replied neutrally. “Have a seat.”
He sat in the chair directly across the desk from hers. “I would like
to think that we can rely on you to make the right decision. This shire needs
development, more jobs, more people, more ratepayers. With a development like
this we can put this town back on the map!”
Kaye eyed him cautiously. “That is your opinion, Paul. Not everyone
agrees, and there is much more investigation required before we can make an
informed decision.”
Graves leaned back in his chair, his hands steepled in front of him.
“I have talked to some of the other councillors. If you stand in the way of
this there will be a lot of people wondering if you are here for the benefit of
the shire or just a cushy ratepayer-funded semi-retirement. If you can’t bring
yourself to support it, at least get out of the way and let the rest of us get
on and do it. You can abstain from the vote if you have to. Think carefully.”
He gave her a thin smile, stood and left the office.
Claire Crawford-Bowen walked in. “What was he so pleased about?”
Kaye looked up at her. “I think I’ve just been made an offer I
shouldn’t refuse.” She paused to take a deep breath. “Any luck in the
archives?”
“No. Just thought I’d pop in and let you know that I couldn’t find
anything. There seem to be gaps in the records, they may be missing or just
misfiled. It’s all a bit of a mess. I’ll keep looking though. Sorry, that’s not
much help to you.”
“Mmm.”
Thursday
The morning dawned rainy and cool. The showers continued as an early morning meeting kicked off in the Mayor’s office.
“What options do we have left?” Kaye asked.
Steve looked up from his notes. “We need a more detailed environmental
assessment, no doubt about that, and the economics are uncertain. There are
risks to the shire as well as pluses. I think it will be hard to stop it with
just environmental concerns. It looks like the state government wants to push
this one hard. As for the legal background, all I can think of is the
government office in Townsville.”
Kaye nodded. “Ok. Anyone else got any bright ideas?”
Everyone in the room shook their heads.
“What are our chances of getting something out of Townsville over the
phone?” asked Kaye.
Steve shook his head. “With the staff cuts there and who knows what
else on their plate I wouldn’t expect anything in a hurry unless someone goes
there in person.”
Kaye sighed. “Crazy. In the old days all this was online. Ok. It looks like I’d better go to Townsville,
throw my mayoral weight around a bit, and see what I can find.” She glanced at
Steve. “The trip will take most of the
monthly petrol budget.”
“It might be our only chance to stop this thing.” said Martin.
“Ok. I’ll head off right now. Should be plenty of time for me to get
back for the meeting tonight.”
Kaye picked up her briefcase,
walked briskly out to the council parking lot under the protection of an
umbrella and climbed into an old Australian built Holden sedan, one of the last
produced before they shut the factories down. It looked like it had seen better
days and it had, several decades of them, but the local mechanic kept it on the
road with scrounged spare parts, ingenuity and luck. The shire’s budget didn’t
stretch to luxury purchases.
After lunch Drew Mitcham and Karen Burnett came into the blacksmith
shop. “We have a last favour to ask. We’d like to see the lake and the swamp
land adjacent. It may be suitable for drainage and development. Where is the
best access?”
Craig’s eyebrows jumped. “You realise that is guaranteed to get the
locals up in arms?” He had visions of Alex flipping her lid, never mind Joe.
Mitcham shrugged. “We’re just doing our jobs.”
Craig scratched his head. “Ok. Umm, my cousin Alex can guide you
through the area. She’s lived here all her life and knows it like the back of
her hand. Let me give her a call.”
Mitcham nodded and Craig went into his small office to make the phone
call. He came out after a couple of minutes. “She’ll meet you at the entrance
to her folks’ farm. You can take a short cut through there and onto the lake
track. She’ll be on horseback. You should be fine in the car, just watch out
for soft bits. It’s not far, I’ll draw you a map.”
As the car quietly and smoothly rolled out onto the road in the direction
of the lake the phone rang in Craig’s office.
“Hello. Bowen the Blacksmith.”
“Craig darling, this is Mum. I’m on my way back from Townsville and
the council car has broken down on me.
The mechanic who’s looking at it here tells me it’s dead as a dodo. Time
to send it to salvage.”
Craig nodded as he spoke into the phone. “Yeah, well it’s nearly forty
years old now…….. Ok. I’ll get Claire to borrow Dave’s car and head on up. I
can’t leave the workshop for too long. Where are you?......Ok. I’ll go and see
Dave now.” He grabbed his wallet and keys from the office, then hesitated,
retraced his steps, and made one more phone call before heading out the door.
On his way back to the workshop he saw Paul Graves leave the council
building and saunter across the road to the hotel bar. His company ute was
parked outside. Celebrating his victory
already? Or perhaps waiting for a meeting with the consultants to get his story
straight? Craig opened up the workshop and finished off a welding job as
another rain shower began to fall.
Two hours later he heard horse hooves crunching on the gravel outside
the door. He looked out and saw Mitcham and Burnett on the back of Alex’s
horse. She was holding the reins and an umbrella as they dismounted. Karen
shook out her wet, bedraggled hair.
Drew Mitcham was very wet and very annoyed. “Damn thing died on us.
It’s been playing up the last couple of days. Maybe the battery has gone. I bet
that flash new technology is not as great as it’s made out to be. Only three
years old too. Half the cost of the car is in the battery you know. Then it
started sinking into the swamp.” He shook his head. “I took some photos for the
insurance. I doubt it’s worth hauling out except for scrap.”
Craig listened sympathetically. “I can arrange that. It’s not the
first vehicle to get stuck in there. We can organise some transport for you
back home tomorrow as well, no problem.”
“Thanks. We’d better fix you up now. What’s the bill for the welding
and recharging the last few days?”
“Well…” said Craig. “If you’re prepared to leave the car with me, how
about we call it even?”
Drew Mitcham considered the offer for a few moments. “Ok. Thanks.”
Then he turned and nodded towards the hotel and he and Karen Burnett walked
slowly down the street holding matching umbrellas. Craig watched them go
silently.
Alex came and stood beside him frowning. “It just conked out. It
wasn’t the bog I took them through, that was just the icing on the cake.” Then
she smiled. “You should have seen their faces when it started sinking in.”
Craig looked at her sheepishly. “Should be able to get it going again,
according to the manual, it’s waterproof.” He pulled a small plastic box with
electrical ports from his jacket pocket. “It might have had something to do
with this. I, umm, forgot to put it back in when I was charging it the other
day, and I also made another slight modification.” He shrugged. “The council
needs a new car. The old one has done its dash.”
“You!” Alex punched him on the arm. “…are unbelievable.”
Several Councillors around the table looked at their watches and
turned to their neighbours. Where is the
Mayor?
The Deputy Mayor circled the room talking to the councillors to gauge
support for starting the meeting without her. Word of the government’s proposal
had got around the shire quickly and there was a crowd of onlookers in the back
of the room gossiping amongst themselves.
Kaye burst through the doors and walked quickly to the head of the
council table. Claire came in behind her, sat down beside Craig and gave him a
peck on the cheek. “Where are the kids?” she asked.
“At the neighbours.” said Craig. “I didn’t want to miss this.”
The Mayor deposited a pile of papers on the table in front of her,
took a deep breath and began to speak.
“Thank you all for coming here this evening at short notice to discuss
this important matter. Apologies for the slightly late start. I had some
transport difficulties; horses are more reliable these days than old council
vehicles.” She smiled and a few onlookers laughed.
“We are here to discuss the proposed large scale agriculture
development on the national parks and state owned lease land in this shire…”
Kaye Bowen continued and was then followed by the chief executive as
he gave his summary of the economic and environment assessments. Debate ensued
and opinion around the council table was divided.
Finally the Mayor called an end to the discussion.
“It is time to put it to a vote. I move that the council,” she began,
looking around the table, “support the proposed legislation to enable
development of these lands in the shire, subject to more rigorous site specific
environmental and economic evaluation, and prepare a submission to that
effect.”
Joe Crawford and Martin Thurston-Hawley looked at her, stunned. One of
Martin’s eyebrows rose in a sure sign he didn’t agree. Craig recognised that
from long ago when he was a student in Mr T.’s class at the local school. Both
Joe and Martin moved to speak but Kaye raised her hand to silence them.
“Do I have seconder?”
Paul Graves raised his hand, smiling broadly.
“Ah. Councillor Graves.” She paused. “Councillor, government records
show that the Graves Pastoral Corporation, of which you are an executive, along
with your father, has recently purchased the leases to land within the proposed
development area.”
She waved some of the papers in the air.
“You therefore have a conflict of interest which you have failed to
advise the council of, as required under the official meeting rules. I would
ask you to stand down during this vote. We will deal with the transgression
later.”
Graves flushed red and looked around the table before slowly getting
up and retreating to the back of the room.
“That should knock him out of the mayoral contest for another term or
two.” Alex whispered.
“Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy,” agreed Craig, “but what’s Mum up to
with this vote?”
Alex frowned and bit her lip.
“I have a seconder. Thank you Councillor Tan.” said the Mayor, turning
to the secretary to make sure she had recorded it.
“All those in favour please raise your hand.” She gave a faint nod
toward Joe and Martin. They exchanged glances as they reluctantly raised their
hands, along with the majority.
“Those against?” A small number of hands were raised.
“Thank you. The motion passes.”
Drew Mitcham and Karen Burnett nodded to each other, smiling.
The Mayor continued, looking at them. “There is one further thing Mr
Mitcham, Ms Burnett. As part of our submission we will make the state
government aware of the North Queensland Parks Acquisition Amendment Act of
1923, which is the legislation governing the land currently included in the
Black Top Mountain and Lake Sutherland National Parks. It mandates that if the
use of the lands should cease to be as national parks then those same lands
shall return to the control of the shire and traditional owners respectively.”
She waved a piece of paper in her hand.
Mitcham and Burnett cast each other confused glances.
“And the shire, and the traditional owners’ corporation I’m sure,” she
nodded towards Joe, “will fight any attempt to negate those protections to the
highest courts in the land if necessary. We would welcome the government’s move
to return the land to local control, if it should choose to proceed with the
legislation, however it should be noted that we, as owners, may well choose not
to participate in the agricultural development scheme.”
She paused and looked around the room with a small smile of
satisfaction.
“I have a further proposal for council to consider. As an alternative
to large scale monoculture development I propose that council investigate
acquiring state lease land close the town with a view to sub-leasing small
plots to families and other groups to develop intensive multi-crop orchards and
gardens. Such a style of development would promote employment, agricultural
production and the rejuvenation of the shire without the environmental risks.
We already have some local examples.” She nodded towards Martin.
“And perhaps the Graves Corporation may wish to divest one of its
recently acquired holdings since insider trading is frowned upon around here.”
She stared directly at Paul Graves. He looked down at the floor to
avoid her gaze.
“Do I have seconder?”
Martin raised his hand, smiling.
“Thank you. The motion is open for discussion.”
********
My story 'Promised Land' has been selected for the anthology "After Oil 2: The Years of Crisis". Available now in various formats from the publishers.
A previous set of stories was published in 2012 in a book entitled After Oil: SF Visions of a Post-Petroleum World, available from the publishers, Amazon (Amazon) or in Australia from Fishpond (Fishpond.)
For part 1 in the trilogy see Robots on Mars. Set in 2025. A space-mad city boy adjusts to life in the country and tries to solve a mystery. (Note: no actual robots or Martians involved)
For part 3 of the trilogy see Heart of Glass. The year is 2099, high school graduates prepare to step into adulthood and the community prepares to celebrate the turn of a new century.
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Winds of Change – In 2022 a migrant worker struggles to realise his dreams and fulfil his family obligations.
Outside In – It's 2050, the country and economy have changed. A recycler studies for an exam to improve his prospects, and an indentured servant plans her escape.
Seeds of Time – (Sequel to Outside In). In 2055 rural China prospers again after a period of dramatic changes, then things are complicated by a strange visitor and a hidden object.
Stories set in Australia: A North Queensland Trilogy
Robots on Mars – 2025. A space-mad city boy adjusts to life in the country and tries to solve a mystery. (Note: no actual robots or Martians involved)
Promised Land – (Sequel to Robots on Mars). It’s 2050 and development threatens the rural district. Is it what they really need and if not, how can they stop it?
Heart of Glass - (Sequel to Promised Land). The year is 2099, high school graduates prepare to step into adulthood and the community prepares to celebrate the turn of a new century.
Tell me what you think. Constructive comments welcome.
If you like the story share with it with your friends.
If you like the story share with it with your friends.
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