Good Luck Earth

By John McKenna

A powerful and hypnotically beautiful time manipulator known as the Siren sends a huge comet hurtling towards a defenceless Earth. In total defiance of all logic a huge neon sign is attached to the comet, pulsing a message towards the Earth as it approaches - Good Luck Earth. Flip is a time traveller from the 36th century. Nelson is a public servant from the late 20th century. In an unlikely turn of events, just as Nelson’s mundane life is about to come to a sudden and violent end, Flip rescues Nelson and takes him on a wild ride through time. Flip and Nelson find themselves the unwitting defenders of the human race. Can they foil the Siren’s plans and save humanity? Are you up for a delightfully mind-blowing trip through the Cosmos? How many pop culture and historical Easter eggs can you uncover? More seriously, can the real world escape its modern day malaise of wealth inequity, environmental destruction, religious extremism and political stupidity? Good Luck Earth shows the way – utopia is within our reach.

• Language: English
• Publisher: John McKenna
• Release date: Sep 14, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370782031

John McKenna

John McKenna is a scientist and a retired medical doctor who has been practising natural medicine for 25 years. He is the bestselling author of Hard to Stomach, Natural Alternatives to Antibiotics andAlternatives to Tranquillisers.

Book preview

Prologue

3510 A.D – Deep Space, 5.7 Billion Kilometres from Earth.

Shuttle 6 of the deep space cruiser Tombaugh glided gracefully into position, following the curve of a massive structure in space that was only a finishing touch away from completion.

At the helm Flight Officer Robinson sang along with gusto to the music that was bouncing around the cockpit. Every little thing the reflex does leaves you answered with a question mark. He fired the reverse thrusters and the shuttle came to a stop.

Hunter had to raise his voice above the din. That’s enough of the music, he said with more than a hint of annoyance. We’ve hit out mark, time to get the job done.

Hey, I always get the job done, watch the master craftsman at work, replied Robinson. He flicked a couple of switches and the music turned off and the shuttle’s extendable arm sprang to life. Okay, let’s go. Out’ve 152 stabilizers how’d I know that just one had to get tangled?

It was calculated as a 17.63% probability, said Hunter.

Well it’s a 100% probability now.

The stabilizer in question was a solid metal disk about a metre in diameter. Once in its correct position, with its attached cables taut and tight, it would be an immovable object, but in its current state it was like a balloon bobbing in the wind.

Robinson spent the next minute or so grappling with the extendable arm controls, attempting to grab hold of the elusive stabilizer, bouncing around in his seat in the process as if riding a bucking bronco. As he chased the stabilizer it ducked and weaved as if deliberately avoiding capture.

Come on ya bissa, he said through gritted teeth as the clamp on the end of the extendable arm snapped at the stabilizer once more without success. Keep still will ya? Bloody solar wind this far out, it’s ridiculous.

It’s just like the simulations we did, scenario 3B, do you want me to take over? asked Hunter.

Get serious! I’m almost there. Robinson took a deep breath and said to himself, ‘Patience you must have.’ With a renewed sense of purpose he brought the extendable arm to a stop and waited. As if lured into a false sense of security the stabilizer performed a perfect parabola and wedged itself into the open mouth of the clamp.

That’s it! yelled Hunter. You’ve got it.

Take this ya slippery bastard, said Robinson. He pulled back on the controls, pulling the stabilizer’s cables tight like a slingshot.

Hey! This isn’t scenario 3B, said Hunter in a panic.

No, watch this for a manoeuvre, replied Robinson with a manic grin.

In a dramatic move the extendable arm thrust downward and the clamp let go of its catch. The stabilizer took off at high speed and looped around the cable it was snagged on and broke free, coming to a stop exactly where it was supposed to be.

Yes! yelled Robinson. He held up his right hand and Hunter gave him an exuberant high five.

You’re the man, said Hunter.

Too right I am, replied Robinson.

Hunter made a final check of the coordinates and the onboard computer beeped in a satisfied tone. Perfect, he said before calling back to the Tombaugh. Final stabilizer in place Sir. The trap is set.

Good work, replied the Commander, who had watched Robinson’s antics without intervention. He knew that Robinson would arrive at an unconventional but quick solution, which is exactly why he had sent him out there. "Report back to the Tombaugh immediately. It’s a three day trip back to Pluto (three standard Earth days – actually about half a plutonian day) and I’ve had just about enough of floating about in deep space."

Very well Sir, said Hunter, keeping the thought to himself that you could hardly complain about floating about in deep space if you lived on Pluto.

Robinson looked out the cockpit window at a point of light off in the distance, as if sizing it up. He gave his partner a nudge. Right on target, this is fair dinkum gonna biss those earthlings right off.

It’s not supposed to biss them off, it’s supposed to encourage them, said Hunter.

It’d biss me off, replied Robinson.

I thought you were an earthling?

That was a long time ago.

Let’s get back like the Commander said, sounds like he’s in a hurry, said Hunter as he reached for the controls.

Don’t hit the forward thrusters, the cables on that thing will snag us like a spider web.

I’m not that stupid, said Hunter. It’s right in front of me, I can hardly miss it…not miss it I mean, no, hang on, I am going to miss it.

Good, said Robinson with a raised eyebrow. The comet’s not gonna miss it though, I wish I could be here to see it. We do all the hard yakka and then a survey team takes over, it’s a bloody liberty.

It’s only going to take a few seconds. Once the comet hits the back sensor the sphere is just going to snap around it.

Robinson rolled his eyes. I know, I was at the briefing. He proved his point by snapping his hands together. Like a Venus fly trap.

Hunter shook his head and regurgitated an idea for the umpteenth time that had driven his crewmates mad during the mission. I still don’t think the Woman from the Future would approve. Maybe she won’t allow it?

Robinson wolf whistled in appreciation. Oh, the Siren. As I keep tellin’ ya mate, don’t talk about her while we’re on duty. The mere thought of her ruins me concentration. Don’t worry, she’ll allow it alright.

I suppose so, after all she probably doesn’t even know that we’re out here, she’s long gone and this is a top secret mission.

You’re kiddin’ aren’t ya? She knows about everything, that’s why she was here. And she’ll come back again if we stuff things up.

Robinson flicked a switch and the music fired up once more. I'm on a ride and I want to get off, but they won't slow down the roundabout.

Hunter sighed as he turned the shuttle around. Why can’t you just use a sound bubble like everyone else?

A sound bubble, sacre bleu! replied Robinson incredulously. Ya can’t listen to the classics with a sound bubble.

The Hubble space station comet observatory room – 42 days later.

Space Station Officer Jones opened his eyes with a start, having just completed his 21st episode of micro sleep in the last 10 minutes. He sat up in his chair, told himself with steely determination to stay awake, then promptly drifted off on his 22nd episode. It wasn’t a particularly efficient way of performing his duties, or catching up on his sleep debt for that matter.

A flicker of red light hit his eyes and he awoke yet again. What was that? he said as he shook the cobwebs out of his head. He zeroed in on a red glow emanating from the comet tracking screen, but before his eyes could focus the red light disappeared. He looked over at his colleague, who had his head tilted back, mouth wide open, and was half way through a long and loud snore.

Dean, wake up, snapped Jones.

What’s up Jonesy? asked Dean with a snort.

I think I saw a red light from the tracking screen.

Dean looked at the comet on the screen. The bissing thing looks fine to me, worse luck.

He tapped away on his computer control pad, interrogating the system for any warning signals that may have produced a red light. No, everything’s fine. It’s been a long night, your eyes must be playing tricks on you.

Just as Jones was about to say ‘sorry’ they were again bathed in red light. They both turned to the tracking screen and opened their eyes wide in surprise. GOOD LUCK EARTH, they said in unison. They looked at the screen in stunned silence for another couple of seconds before once again the red light disappeared. Jones rewound the footage and hit the pause button at the offending moment.

They both stared at the screen and tried to take in the scale of what they were witnessing. A huge sign on two posts was sticking out of the top of the comet. The sign was blasting out a message towards Earth - GOOD LUCK EARTH, in gigantic neon red letters. It was made up of two lines, with GOOD LUCK on top and EARTH below.

Jones shook his head in amazement. It’s huge, each letter must be two or three kilometres long.

What cheeky bissa did that? said Dean.

Jones was totally nonplussed. Well it wasn’t there five minutes ago, it’s like some kind of giant space monster has just shoved it in there.

Dean leaned forward and unpaused the image and the sign disappeared. He grabbed the controls and zeroed in on the comet and quickly got a result. He ran his fingers across the screen in a criss-cross pattern. See this? There’s a thin lattice pattern all over the comet, looks like some sort of cable. He then started pointing at the screen. And look at all these black nodule things, each one has four cables attached to it and they’re stuck onto the comet like octopus suckers. He finished off by running his hand across the comet image. And there’s a seam of black disks running all around the middle.

The comet was roughly spherical in nature and from a distance looked like a small planet. Up close however it told a different story, it was a disorganised collection of ice, dust and rock. The comet had remained frozen and inactive of centuries, but now as it neared the sun it was slowly heating up. It was starting to outgas and had a thin tail of gas and dust trailing behind it.

As if vindicating its own existence the sign pulsed back to life. Bright beams of red light shot off from the nodules at the top of the comet and converged at a central point above it. The sign reappeared and flashed off its message towards the Earth in a display of dazzling light. Dean took in an eyeful of the blinding spectacle at close range. He flung himself back in his seat and looked all around the room blinking furiously. All he could see for a few seconds was GOOD LUCK EARTH superimposed over everything.

Are you okay? asked Jones.

Dean gave his eyes a rub and looked back at the comet, which had resumed its dormant state. Yeah, yeah, my eyes are okay but my brain is struggling a little. He checked the latest data and continued. Ingenious really, the comet rotates very slowly, so the system only fires the nodules required to keep the sign facing the Earth. Whoever did this has gone to a lot of trouble.

Pluto is the nearest settlement, said Jones.

Dean grunted dismissively. Sounds about right, they think they’re so avant-garde out there.

The sign’s not wrong though, some luck would come in handy for a change.

Dean turned his head and looked at the Earth through a porthole. It was a majestic sight, but it didn’t bring him any joy. That’s for sure, I’m planning not to be down there when the comet hits.

Jones was a little more optimistic. The Woman from the Future has guaranteed that it won’t, the time field will be ready when the day comes.

Dean shook his head, he fancied himself as an amateur time engineer. The Siren! How did I know that you were going to mention her? The time field isn’t going to be ready, the mathematics is screwed up big time. The Siren has bewitched us all, drowned our logic in a sea of devotion. She’s leading the Earth to oblivion.

No, how can you say that? She gave us a kick start before she left, and we’ve got another 16 years to work it out, surely it can’t go wrong?

That’s what she claims, she never told us the whole story. She brainwashed humankind big time.

Jones decided to quit while he was behind. Even though he would defend the Siren to his death he had a nagging feeling in the back of his brain that Dean was right. A few seconds later the red light hit them again.

It flashes on about once a minute, said Jones.

Dean let out a sigh. Shit, this is going to get very annoying, very quickly.

CHAPTER 1

23rd of June, 1314 – The Battle of Bannockburn.

Nelson stood sword in hand and watched at the side of the battle as the Scottish and English went at each other. It was a brutal scene as blood, guts and expletives flew through the air with a gay abandonment that didn’t really suit the term. His best mate Marra was in the thick of the action, swinging a huge battleaxe above his head with manic delight. Nelson winced and took a step back as he witnessed Marra expertly bring down his battleaxe and lob an Englishman’s head clean off. Nelson preferred to watch from the sidelines as he wasn’t much of a fighter. In all the commotion no one had seemed to notice him standing there, it was as though his lack of action had made him invisible. He had heard that the best way to survive a confrontation with a dangerous beast such as a bear or a lion was to stand perfectly still, and to do the same now seemed strangely appropriate.

That quickly changed however when a timid looking Englishman approached him. Nelson’s heart skipped a beat and he lifted his sword in nervous anticipation.

The Englishman lowered his sword and raised his left hand. No, no, I don’t want to fight, he pleaded. I’d rather be out here with you than in there with them.

Much relieved Nelson lowered his sword as well. I know what you mean, he replied as the blood from a freshly severed head splashed over his face. He paused to wipe the blood from his eyes and continued. I wouldn’t last five seconds in there.

Let’s have a pretend fight, we look a bit suspicious standing here together, suggested the Englishman.

Nelson nodded his approval and they started banging their swords together in a manner no more convincing than two kids re-enacting Skywalker vs. Darth Vader.

Another Scot approached the Englishman from behind with his sword raised in a menacing fashion. Nelson felt like yelling out a warning to his new found friend but quickly came to the conclusion that such an action wouldn’t go down all that well with his fellow countrymen. He lowered his sword and took a step back, the best he could offer his English friend was a suggestive raising of his eyebrows.

What? inquired the Englishman with a nervous laugh. Sensing something was up he turned around only to be greeted with a flashing blade. His let out a little squeak and a second later his head was on the ground and Nelson was again splattered with blood. The Scottish vanquisher dramatically drove his sword into the ground and lifted the grill on his helmet. To Nelson’s amazement it was Robert the Bruce himself. Nelson felt honoured to be in the presence of the great Scottish leader. He looked quite old, past middle age, but obviously he could still mix it with the best of them.

Thank you for that young man. I don’t like to kill a man from behind, I like to see the fear in their eyes, said the great man. That was the last of them, the battle is won. He grabbed Nelson around the shoulders. Does this make you proud to be Scottish son?

Nelson surveyed the countless bodies that littered the battlefield. I s’pose so.

I suppose so! What sort of an answer is that? Don’t worry, before too long you’ll be prouder to be Scottish than I am.

Nelson didn’t quite see how that was possible. Robert the Bruce took a knife from his belt and gently ran the tip of it down the middle of Nelson’s chest. Well I suppose only half of you will be.

Only half of me? What d’ya mean?

I mean half.

That’s rather cryptic isn’t it?

Not from my point of view it isn’t, said Robert the Bruce with a cheeky smirk. He then got super serious and raised his arms and looked all around the battlefield. This is all a pretension, it’s time to get the real show on the road. Your future is in my hands as mine is in yours. When the time comes remember to ask me what I am about to tell you and the circle will be complete.

What’re you about to tell me? Haven’t you told me already?

Robert the Bruce ignored the second part of Nelson’s question and answered the first. Did you let the woman I love free?

Did I? No I didn’t, what?

Robert the Bruce pointed to himself. No, did I? Which is did you if you’re the one asking. It’s for you to forget, remember, and then ask me.

I ask you? I thought you were asking me?

All will become clear in time. Well for me it will, not for you.

Why am I asking then? said Nelson in total confusion.

So I can find out the answer.

You don’t know the answer?

Of course not.

I’ve forgotten the question already.

Good.

Nelson paused to interpret the conversation but drew a blank, which he decided was for the best.

Robert the Bruce shook his hand. Goodbye for now young man, enjoy the ride, it’s going to blow your mind. You will soon enter a chamber of so many doors, nowhere to hide. If you give me your dreams, I’ll help you…find the right door. He leaned forward as if to whisper into Nelson’s ear but did exactly the opposite and yelled at the top of his voice. WAKE UP.

Nelson opened his eyes and the universe inside his head flicked back into consciousness. Bloody Principal Loney, not again, he mumbled to himself. Nelson’s school principal, Mr Loney, haunted his dreams by constantly impersonating figures of authority in them. This time it happened to be Robert the Bruce. The night before it had been Nelson’s dreamtime nemesis since early childhood – Giant Andy Pandy. Nelson never noticed Principal Loney’s incursions until after he woke and found it most annoying to say the least. He had no idea why Principal Loney felt it necessary to invade his dreams, or more accurately, why his subconscious found it necessary to cast the Principal as a leading role.

The dream quickly faded from memory and the hope we’re born with every morning was brushed aside by reality. Nelson sighed as he remembered that today was going to be the worst of his life, a feeling that most teenagers have on a regular basis. Having recently turned 16 he was no exception. He got up and with no enthusiasm at all made his way to the kitchen for breakfast.

Looking forward to the big day ahead Nelson? asked his mother in a chirpy fashion.

Nelson stared despondently into his cornflakes. Yes Mum.

His two younger brothers and sister just giggled. A short time later he reluctantly put his fate beyond doubt by stepping onto his school bus.

Today was going to be a very special day for the Casterton High School, and unfortunately for Nelson he had been asked to play a minor part in it. Casterton is a small town in country Victoria, Australia. Not all that much happens in Casterton apart from the occasional success of the football side. There was something to celebrate all this week though - the fiftieth anniversary of the high school. There had been a school reunion, a dance, a fete and a parade. The week’s festivities were to culminate today in the burying of a time capsule on the school grounds, scheduled to be reopened in 100 years.

Principal Loney thought that the time capsule was a great idea and was very pleased with himself for having thought it up. Mind you, time capsules were all the rage in 1984. The principal was a consummate professional, effortlessly balancing the needs of the students, teachers and parents. He was such an accomplished politician that he had been approached several times to run for town Mayor, but the very idea sent shivers down his spine. He was ahead of his time and introduced special programs to assist both gifted and struggling students alike.

The parents loved him and he was well liked by everyone, even the students, although they did give him the nickname of ‘Loony Loney’, a name that he did not appreciate in the slightest. As with most great thinkers he was a little eccentric and forgetful of the more mundane necessities of daily life. He didn’t have much idea of what a comb was, and would quite often report for duty in odd coloured socks. Team that up with an appalling wardrobe of cardigans and corduroy trousers and he looked more like a mad scientist than a school principal.

Naturally all the kids thought that the whole time capsule thing was lame in the extreme. Who cared about burying some stupid box? Old people were weird. The only good thing about it was they got out of class for the 6th period, the last of the day. Nelson wasn’t so lucky though, to his horror he had been selected to place an item of his choosing into the capsule at the burial ceremony. In the two weeks since this had been announced by the principal at assembly (called ‘Looney tunes’ by the kids) he had been continually teased and ribbed about it. His best mate Marra had delighted in tormenting Nelson with a constant stream of suggestions as to what he could put into the time capsule. Recent suggestions included his sister’s pet cat, a fart in a bottle, the scab off his knee, a playboy magazine, a cow patty and a bag of raw prawns.

Nelson wasn’t used to being teased and certainly didn’t like being the centre of attention. He was a fairly quiet sort of a kid and was a conscientious student. In fact you could say he was an out and out nerd, a perfect candidate for bullying, but no one ever laid a hand on him. In fact he was treated with a kind of reverence that he found a little unnerving. His saving grace was that he was a jock as well, the star of the football team. He had only received the honour of placing an item into the time capsule because he had kicked the winning goal in the big footy match against Monivae College. He now wished that he had kicked the ball out of bounds on the full. It was an unusual combination being a nerd and a jock and indeed it went against every stereotype in every stereotypical Hollywood high school teen movie ever made. The kids who would have normally bullied him respected him as a colleague, indeed he was a better athlete than most of them. He was one of the boys, although he never really saw himself that way.

The only regular teasing he received was about his surname - Kincade. The only other Kincade his mates could think of was Ruben Kincaid from the Partridge family. He received many a request to sing ‘Come on get happy’, which of course he never did. As Nelson always pointed out Ruben Kincaid’s surname was spelt differently and he wasn’t in the Partridge family band anyway. He was the manager or bus driver or something like that Nelson would say, trying to pretend that he didn’t watch the show. He did of course, to say that he had a crush on Susan Dey would be an understatement.

Nelson didn’t put much thought into what he should put into the time capsule, he just wanted to forget the whole thing. His suggestion of the day’s newspaper was rejected by his mum as being extremely unoriginal. Then suddenly the day before the ceremony the perfect idea popped into his head - the new Duran Duran album he had recently purchased with some of the earnings derived from a stint of school holiday roustabouting. It was perfect, all the kids at school would love it. Surely Hungry like the Wolf would go down in history as the greatest song of all time. He still dreaded having to take part in the time capsule ceremony, but at least now he wouldn’t look like a total fool.

He ran the idea past his mum and she told him to go and grab the album. Upon his return she was ready with her Polaroid instant camera, which was the bane of his life, for which she used on a constant basis to take embarrassing photos of him and other family members. Nelson groaned as she instructed him to hold the album up in front of his chest. He stood there like a bored criminal getting yet another mug shot as she took the snap.

She gave the photo a vigorous shake and wrote Nelson’s name, date of birth, and address on the back. She didn’t even notice that his eyes were half shut in the photo. I know, what do you like most in the world? she asked.

Cricket.

Was there any need to ask? she said, rolling her eyes. Likes – cricket, she mumbled to herself as she wrote it below his address.

Dislikes?

Peas.

Perfect, she said as she wrote it down. She then walked over to Nelson and slid the photo inside the album cover. Now the people of the future will know who owned the album.

Nelson’s reply was purely perfunctory. Yes Mum.

I’ll buy you another copy of the album next time I’m in town.

Thanks Mum, said Nelson with a big smile.

His dad was engrossed in the daily crossword, but like most husbands he became instantly alarmed at the word ‘buy’ coming out of his wife’s mouth.

He put the paper down. Buy what?

Oh I’m glad you’re finally showing some interest dear. Nelson’s going to put his Duran Duran album into the time capsule.

Never heard of them. Pop rubbish now doubt, he said as he lifted his paper back up. He then realised that she hadn’t answered his question. What are you buying again?

Another copy of the album.

With some relief he wrote this off as a reasonable expense. Righto then. A few seconds later he took the conversation in a direction he quickly regretted. Duran Duran? He was a character in that sexy Jane Fonda space movie I reckon.

What? said mum as she elbowed him in the arm. Jane Fonda’s sexy is she?

Dad became somewhat lost in his reply. Yes…ah hang on, no. Well yeah, you know what I mean? The movie is sexy.

Nelson shook his head and walked away as the argument continued. Jane Fonda? Space movie? he said to himself. Dad must be on drugs or something.

Nelson’s bus pulled up in front of the school and he jumped out. He quickly opened his school bag and double checked the contents - the Duran Duran album was safely secured within. Principal Loney had ordered that all time capsule items remain a secret until the ceremony took place. As he made his way through the schoolyard he was greeted by Marra, who was swishing a long stick about exuberantly.

I had a ripper dream last night, you were in it too, said Marra. With an effortless flick of the wrist he knocked the head off a dandelion with the stick and continued. We were in a huge battle and I was cuttin’ people’s heads off with a huge axe. There was blood everywhere, it was awesome.

Nelson’s mind’s eye gave him a perfect image of Marra doing exactly as he had just described, which gave him a strange sense of déjà vu. Sounds gruesome, he said.

It was, replied Marra with enthusiasm. After it was over a bloke in armour came up to me. You’ll never believe what he said.

None shall pass?

No, said Marra with a puzzled expression. He told me that the solar system is a wondrous place. What d’ya reckon he meant by that?

That the solar system is a wondrous place.

Marra nodded in agreement. I s’pose so, I’ve never really thought about it. I saw the same knight bloke talkin’ to you earlier, what’d he say?

Are you serious? laughed Nelson. It was your dream idiot, I have no idea.

Oh yeah, replied Marra without a hint of embarrassment. Like many of his fellow Australians Marra had a talent for cutting straight to the chase with a combination of total naivety and rat cunning. He could quite often be momentarily confused, but rarely out witted. He changed the subject by whacking Nelson’s school bag with the stick. Today’s the big day hey? What have ya got in there to put in the time capsule?

Nelson half spun around to keep the bag out of Marra’s reach. Never you mind, you’ll find out soon enough.

As the fifth period drew to a close Nelson became transfixed by the clock on the wall, each tick bringing him closer to the dreaded time capsule ceremony. His attempt at stopping the second hand through mental telepathy just gave him a headache. He cringed in dread as the bell rang. The time of reckoning had arrived, the ceremony was only minutes away.

He made his way to his locker and took out a plastic bag containing the Duran Duran album. He slammed the locker door shut and forlornly exited the building and began walking across the schoolyard towards the ceremonial area. He had his head down in an effort to remain inconspicuous for as long as possible as he mumbled to himself about the unfairness of life and the implacability of the arrow of time.

On his way he bumped into a man, or maybe the man bumped into him, he wasn’t sure, but the collision was enough to stop them both in their tracks. He looked up to apologise and immediately noticed a strange expression on the man’s face. The man seemed confused and alarmed and was looking around frantically, perhaps trying to find someone. Nelson didn’t recognise him, so he wasn’t a teacher. Nelson came to the conclusion that he was some sort of town official here for the ceremony.

The man held out a piece of paper and said in an awkward stuttering voice with a strange accent, Slip this note in, in, int, into th-e album sleeve an-d put it in, in, into th-e time capsule.

Nelson took the note from the man and read it, written on it was the message - If you have developed time travel in the future could someone please come back in time and get me?

That’s not a bad idea, said Nelson. He looked back up at the man only to find that he was gone. Nelson quickly scanned the schoolyard but the mysterious man was nowhere to be seen. It was as if he had disappeared into thin air.

Oh well, may as well do it, said Nelson to himself with a shrug. He shoved the note into the album sleeve and continued walking. He didn’t dwell too much on who the strange man was or why he had given him the note. As most pre-occupied teenagers do he was far more concerned about his own immediate future and as a rule never tried to interpret the strange behaviour of adults, most of them were so uncool.

The centrepiece of the ceremonial area was nothing more than a three foot deep hole in the wing of the football oval. Nelson found himself hanging about with a group of people he wouldn’t normally be caught dead with. There was Principal Loney, a couple of the senior teachers, some other people he had never seen before, and a girl from the next grade by the name of Teresa Green, an unintentional truism if ever there was one. She was holding some sort of pottery. It looked horrible.

Nelson gave her a nudge. What’s that, a teapot?

No, it’s a vase, she replied sheepishly.

A vase! How can it be a vase? It’s got bits pointing out of it everywhere. That’s a handle isn’t it? he said, pointing to a particularly ugly blob on the side of the supposed vase.

No it isn’t, oh just shut up. I hate art class, bloody pottery.

At least it will be an antique when it comes out, said Nelson, trying to be positive.

He didn’t ask her any more questions, like him she seemed somewhat put out by the whole experience. When she made the vase her art teacher asked her what it was but she had been too embarrassed to say.

The teacher decided that it was abstract art and said, That’s brilliant, you can put that in the time capsule.

The time capsule was sitting on a table next to the hole in the ground. Principal Loney asked for attention. A murmur could be heard amongst the students, ‘Looney Loney’s going to make a speech’. And sure enough, off he went. It was a long and boring speech. Going on and on about the school, the past, the future, blah blah blah. Nelson stopped paying attention after the first 30 seconds or so and shuffled to the back of the group so as not to be seen. Eventually the speech finished and everybody started to place their items into the capsule. Principal Loney kicked things off by putting in a speech written by him to be read out when the capsule was re-opened. The vase got a great laugh from the crowd and Nelson’s Duran Duran album received a huge roar of approval and a round of applause. He went from being an object of ridicule to a legend, but kids being kids it was all forgotten after a few days and he went back to being his normal low profile self.

However, much to Nelson’s chagrin, about 10 years later Marra did remember the Duran Duran album. The era of glam pop was well and truly over and as a result Nelson was now once again an object of ridicule. Duran Duran! What were the people of the future going to think of us? Although Marra did have to admit that ‘Girls on Film’ was the best video clip he had ever seen. Nelson’s friends now had the perfect nickname for him - Duran.

A few days after the ceremony Principal Loney was hard at work in his office gathering all the time capsule paperwork. He checked off the list he had prepared.

1. Photos of the time capsule and the burial ceremony taken by the local paper.

2. Descriptions of the capsule contents and their relevance to 1984 society as prepared by the

Year 12 students.

3. Location of the capsule and instructions for re-opening 100 years later.

Happy that all was in order he placed the paperwork in a large envelope and sealed it closed. With a black texta he wrote on the envelope in capital letters - TIME CAPSULE INFORMATION. DO NOT THROW OUT. OPEN IN YEAR 2084. He placed the envelope in the bottom draw of his filing cabinet and never thought of it again.

When the principal retired 10 years later he was well and truly past his prime. He had become increasingly forgetful as the years went by and like Ronald Reagan with his finger poised over the launch button it had become a problem too big to ignore. The school board had forced him into retirement. Turning up late for morning assembly and addressing the students dressed in his pyjamas had been the last straw. In many recent mornings he had quite often attempted to leave the house clad in his pyjamas. It had always been up to his wife to suggest that a change of attire might be appropriate. Unfortunately for him she was becoming quite forgetful as well.

On the sad day of retirement Principal Loney packed up all of his belongings from his office into a couple of boxes. Whilst emptying out the contents of the filing cabinet he paid no attention whatsoever to the time capsule envelope as he threw it into a box. His wife paid no attention to the envelope either. She threw both boxes straight into the garbage bin upon seeing them sitting in the hallway.

I haven’t got room for this sort of rubbish, she said to herself. He won’t miss it.

She was right, he didn’t.

Seven years later they had both gone downhill to such an extent that their carers had no choice but to arrange for them to be moved into a retirement home. A month later they disappeared. It was quite common for residents to wander off, but they were usually found close by. Mr and Mrs Loney however were never seen again, it was as though they had vanished off the face of the Earth. About a week before their disappearance they had received an eccentric visitor. Eye witness reports of the visitor were somewhat vague and his identity remained a mystery. The fact that he had signed the visitor register as ‘Bichon Frisé’ didn’t help clear up matters any. Foul play wasn’t ruled out, but a police investigation led nowhere.

When 2084 ticked around the time capsule envelope was turning into peat at the bottom of a land fill. A good percentage of the people who had attended the ceremony were dead and buried (average life expectancy in 2084 was 120) and for all intended purposes the time capsule was too.

CHAPTER 2

1996 - The Bureau of Statistics

Nelson looked at his watch and sighed, his usual knock off time was still 30 minutes away and just like he was at the centre of a black hole, time had seemingly come to a standstill. He was hard at work pretending to be hard at work at the Melbourne branch of the Bureau of Statistics. His career hadn’t exactly taken off since school but at least he could boast that he was a Grade 4 public servant, which was better than being a Grade 1, all they did all day was photocopying. As a 10 year veteran of the department he was an expert at stretching out a job. He had finished his task of tabulating the median wage of men employed in the building industry residing in the suburb of Bentleigh for the financial year ending June 1996 by 10 o’clock, but had impressed his supervisor (a Grade 5 of course) by seemingly slaving away at the project for the entire day.

The previous day senior management had been called away on a junket (officially known as a conference) and Nelson had compiled a stylish innings of 52 in a game of office cricket, before being controversially given out one hand one bounce off the water cooler. At the previous year’s Christmas party Nelson’s promotion prospects took a dive when after a few drinks the regional manager decided to partake in a game. An innocuous delivery from Nelson hit a ridge in the carpet on a good length and reared up alarmingly, knocking the RM’s glasses off. It was only a furry old tennis ball but the RM was less than impressed. He picked up his glasses and gave Nelson a verbal spray on the merits of his bowling tactics that would have made Jardine blush in 1933.

Nelson had many plans and ideas about his life and what he could achieve but he hadn’t actually followed through on any of them. Too much thinking and not enough action was his problem. He had loner tendencies and was fond of isolation, but had a solid circle of friends who made sure to drag him out into the real world. Occasional attempts to woo the opposite sex left him romantically perplexed, and thus his love life had been unspectacular.

Plenty of fish in the sea, his mates would tell him.

Yeah, but I’m not a very good fisherman, he would reply.

His promising football career had been nipped in the bud a few years earlier when during a game his right knee had attempted to go in two directions at once, resulting in his anterior cruciate ligament doing just that.

The following morning he was flying out on a two week holiday to Hawaii. He couldn’t wait to get out of the office so he placed the completed median wage file on his boss’s desk, gave her a sigh of relief and a knowing nod in a job well done, and snuck out quite a few minutes earlier than his flex sheet suggested.

The trip was going to be his second one overseas. The year before he had travelled to Fiji with Marra, which was short for Bone Marrow. Marra had been given his nickname years earlier after a particularly nasty incident during an under 18’s football clash between Casterton and Hamilton. It was a rainy winter’s day and the Melville oval was a complete mud heap. In some places on the field the mud was ankle deep and would ooze up over the players boots as they ran along.

The incident occurred when Nelson picked up the ball about 50 metres out from goal. Upon seeing an empty goal square he booted the ball long, hoping to skid it through for a goal. It almost worked. The ball hit the ground about 10 metres out and with a splash of water it skipped towards the goal, only to stop about a metre short, just inside the right hand goal post. Marra (or Robbo as he was known as then) was positioned in the left forward pocket and was the closest player to the ball, so he sprinted towards it with his opponent right on his tail. Having a flair for the dramatic he launched himself at the ground and with a huge splash of water and mud he slid on his back towards the ball. After sliding about five metres he reached the ball and tapped it through for a goal with his right boot. There was little time to celebrate though, as legs akimbo he careered on towards the right hand goal post. Not wishing to receive a crushing blow to his ability to re-produce he twisted his body sideways at the last second and hit the goal post hard, leading with his left arm. His opponent had taken the same path as him and made things worse by sliding into the back of him as he hit the post. The post was made of steel, had no padding around it, and as a result had absolutely no give at all. Robbo started to scream in pain and players and umpires alike ran to him to see what was wrong. His left arm was broken below the elbow and bone could be seen protruding from the skin.

Chopper, the team Captain, pointed at the arm and said, Bugger me, ya can even see the bone marrow.

The goal umpire took one look and fainted half way through waving his flags, landing face first in the mud. The man in white’s dramatic performance received a huge cheer from the crowd that wasn’t bettered for the rest of the day. Robbo spent the next few days in hospital, didn’t play again for the rest of the season, and was called Marra from then on.

Nelson and Marra made an interesting pair. Nelson was quiet and careful with life and Marra was brash and over the top. They got on famously though and as a result Nelson got up to many an adventure that left to his own devices he would have never even contemplated in his wildest dreams. Marra was a very relaxed character and took life as it came but never missed an opportunity to cause some mischief.

Nelson and Marra’s trip to Fiji was an eye opener for both of them. As young country raised lads their experiences of foreign cultures and foods was limited to say the least – they were meat and three veg Aussies. As a kid Nelson always though it exotic when his mum occasionally served up rice. Mind you it was only ever as a sweet, boiled in milk and served with honey. The one time she did serve up rice as a main resulted in his dad giving her a 20 minute dissertation on the exploits of the Japanese in World War II.

Nelson and Marra complemented each other perfectly in Fiji, which much to Marra’s annoyance Nelson liked to call Fuchal. Nelson dragged Marra on sightseeing tours during the day and Marra dragged Nelson out to bars at night. It was a life changing trip for Marra in that it enabled him to meet his future wife. When he got home from the airport he opened what he thought to be his suitcase only to be confronted with a smorgasbord of frilly knickers and bikinis. Almost salivating he pulled out a black leather mini skirt that was barely 30 centimetres long.

Yes, he yelled with glee as he found a tag around the bag’s handle with the true owners name and address written on it. Marra couldn’t believe his luck. She was from Moonee Ponds, just down the road from his place. I reckon I’m in, he said. He snapped off the tag, gave it a kiss and shoved it in a pocket. Charlene, I love you already.

The next day Marra pulled up outside Charlene’s house in his Ute. With her suitcase in hand he made his way down the footpath and pressed the doorbell. He was dressed resplendently in shorts, thongs (flip flops to the less cultured reader) and a singlet. She opened the door clad in her dressing gown and pink moccasins, after all it was only one o’clock in the afternoon. Marra’s heart skipped a beat. She was an absolute stunner with long blond hair, blue eyes and curves that not even her dressing gown could conceal.

She pointed at her suitcase. I’ve got one just like that inside, Tom Robinson I presume?

Marra smiled in response. Charlene Ramsey I presume?

She noticed a small piece of shiny blue material sticking out of the top of one of his short pockets. Quick as a flash she plucked the object out of the pocket and held it up. It was one of her blue panties.

She gave them a sniff and him a suspicious look. What’ve ya bein’ doin’ with these ya dirty bastard?

Nothin’, he replied with a cheeky smirk.

She opened her dressing gown to reveal a tight fitting night shirt, a bare midriff and another pair of blue panties. She pointed down at the panties and said, How d’ya like these ones?

It had the desired effect, Marra was lost for words and almost fainted on the spot.

Charlene looked him up and down. Come in and I’ll show ya more if ya lucky, she said with a knowing look.

Marra went in and floated out again the following morning with a smile as wide as the Grand Canyon. Six months later they were married and three months after that they had their first kid.

Nelson threw his bag for Hawaii in the boot of his car and placed a cage containing his beloved pet rabbit Nog (short for Caerbannog) on the passenger seat. On his way to the airport he dropped Nog off at Marra’s place.

Be careful, that rabbit’s got a vicious streak a mile wide, warned Nelson as he handed over the cage containing the innocuous looking ball of white fluff.

Marra sighed with frustration as he took the cage and began a well-worn routine with his best mate. Why d’ya always say that every time I see this bloody rabbit?

As I always say, it’s a test. Work out why I say it and I’ll stop saying it.

And like I always say, ya say it’s because ya a tool.

Nelson raised an index finger and Marra mimicked him. They both said together with a laugh, Incorrect.

The raised index fingers turned into a high-five. Have a great trip ya lucky bastard, said Marra. And remember me advice, drink lots a beer and talk to lots a women. I hear those Hula dancing girls are somethin’ else.

Okay, replied Nelson, who hadn’t bothered to tell Marra that he was planning to spend most of his trip trekking through the jungle and climbing up the sides of volcanoes.

Some 14 hours later Nelson was enjoying taking the flight sans Marra. He was used to Marra force feeding him Bundy and coke so it was a relief to still be sober. He had even managed to read a good portion of a book, something Marra had never done in his whole life and certainly wouldn’t have approved of. The plane was making its final approach and was only three minutes away from landing. Nelson had a window seat and could see the ground fast approaching. He didn’t like landings but told