Ground Zero and the Children of Kakadu: Book One
Adults Only: (Currently being work-shopped on Scribophile)
Warning: This book contains strong adult themes including intimate sexual activity, implied cannibalism, graphic battle scenes, any amount of lighthearted humor, and a whole bunch of tips as to how to survive a future dystopia that is history yet to come.
Copyright © 2018 Jan Ulf Soderberg Andersen
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted by any means whether auditory, graphic, mechanical, or electronic without written permission of both publisher and author, except in the case of brief excerpts used in critical articles and reviews. Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this work is illegal and punishable by law.
PDF ISBN: 978-0-6487477-0-3, EPUB ISBN: 978-0-6487477-1-0
Set in the year 2093, this 190 page, 60,000 word story is a rollicking yarn about a tech savvy tribe of Home Central survivors of an apocalyptic 30 year mini ice age in outback Western Australia when it rains for the first time in 70 years.
Of the ensuing flood, the story follows the trials and tribulations of two bow and arrow wielding ‘Home Central’ scouts, Rachel Considine and Stuart Hopkins, who: without warning, find themselves surrounded by an entire army of bloodthirsty, machine gun toting cannibalistic ‘outlanders’ with nefarious, somewhat ‘other worldly’ intentions.
A modern day twist on the art of surviving a not so very distant dystopia; by way of introduction, it is thus the story begins.
Introduction, and the entirety of Prologue 1 (Appendix chapter after the end of Book One)
Introduction:
It was Glyphosate, and the advent of broad-acre prescription farming in the early 1980’s when all things old became new; what virgin handmaiden, beautiful and fair the plow could nary dream touch, became whore and more.
As with any new piece of ground, in three short years the humus layer would be depleted. Having killed the mycorrhizal fungi mycelium in the process of wiping out the native pastures; it was with no means of turning back, the farmers, cap in hand, became slave to an ever-increasing reliance on artificial fertilizers and chemicals.
In Australia, what was forty-five million hectares of land under cultivation in 1980 had become 100 million hectares by 2020.
Of the resident mycorrhizal fungi mycelium and its remarkable ability to exclude foreign invasive weeds through its symbiotic relationship with its native pasture host; the multinational fertilizer and chemical companies, and their front-of-house agronomists cared little.
Of the incredibly carbon rich organic humus layer, an upfront cash crop bonanza for the farmers when it came to covering the costs of clearing and opening up new country; the multinationals, and every successive representative department of agriculture from 1980 onward, cared even less.
At the start of the industrial revolution in 1760, global atmospheric carbon dioxide levels were 280ppm. By 1980, the carbon dioxide levels had increased to 340ppm. By 2020, and with no end in sight, the carbon dioxide levels in the earth’s atmosphere had increased a further 80ppm to the dizzying heights of 420ppm, the highest in 3,000,000 years.
Choked in dust, bogged of sand, baked, flooded and frozen; thus did all things great and small, have cause to fall and fail.
Of scorching winds of drought and fire, did ten years of stratospheric dust and sand storms, and four years of fifty degree Category 5 summer hurricanes, target the naked heat and what remaining humus could be had of the 450 million hectares of Australia’s farm, and grazing lands for fuel.
T’was the early morn of the 14th of June, 2034: when the outside ambient temperature suddenly fell from minus twenty degrees, to minus 146 degrees Centigrade and colder, for three days and nights. That the entire event went on to be repeated thrice in a fortnight, what followed was thirty years of rolling Antarctic hurricanes, and continuous ice storms for the better part of nine months of every successive year.
Of cities burned, buried, and frozen solid, did a few, a very few - - - and the even fewer in the know, dig in with a plan to survive.
Prologue 1: The Roaring Forties and the writing on the wall (Previously deleted chapter added to the end of Book One as an appendix)
It was the morning of the 21st of March 2033, when all things ‘climatic’ suddenly took a dramatic deviation from what had been the normal year round ‘day to day’ of dust storms, cyclonic sand storms, and perpetual drought. While the storm came from the west, far from a harbinger of things to come, the morn was notably quiet. Even the ocean, as still as a millpond, was quiet.
Gradually, a warm gentle breeze picked itself up whereupon, over the course of the next two hours, the breeze got hotter and hotter. Having attained the hitherto never before seen sweltering temperature of forty-two degrees Centigrade directly off the Indian Ocean by nine o’clock in the morning; the wind that had been blowing a steady 40kph, suddenly increased in intensity and ferocity.
Within the hour, what looked like a normal, every day windstorm had developed into a full-scale Category 3 event with 160kph winds. Whipped up by the wind and blinding foam, a five metre tidal surge traveled up the Swan River and inundated inner city Perth. From one minute to the next, Hillary’s and every low-lying coastal settlement, was overwhelmed and swept away.
While the initial loss of life of the very wealthy coastal elite in that part of the world was horrendous and shocking, by the time the seventy-two hour event had completed its flyover of the Australasian subcontinent and New Zealand, the early loss of life on the west coast had completely paled into insignificance.
The import of the event and its devastating effect on the eastern seaboard was comprehensively reflected upon by way of a W.U.N. TV interview by Richard Morecroft of the internationally renowned climatologist and soil scientist William Alexander (Bill) Stevens, which aired on ‘A Very Current Affair’ several days later:
“Bill, by the time this storm event was but halfway to the red centre it was a Category 4. On reaching Alice Springs, it had developed into a Category 5 packing gale force winds of 180-220 kilometres per hour, would you agree this particular dust storm is the biggest we’ve seen to date?”
“Wrong question Richard, and the answer is no,” declared Bill emphatically. “It’s as we’ve heard so many times from so many experts over the last ten years, there’s a big difference between airborne dust, and blowing sand. This particular event is primarily a sand storm, where the dust is the by-product, as opposed to the other way around.”
“Bill, if you could qualify what you meant when you said ‘the other way around’?”
“Sand is sand, dust is dust! As with any wind blown dust event, especially if the ground has ever been previously cultivated. That the ‘light as a feather’ organic material is gathered up and sucked into the upper levels of the troposphere, this is what creates the visual back to front ‘rolling effect’ of which we have all become so familiar," Bill replied.
“O.K then,” Richard replied. “Once the organic material has reached the upper levels of the troposphere, having oxidized to become Carbon Dioxide, it’s free to travel the globe to its heart’s content?”
Of wit Bill Stevens cocked his head, and exclaimed. “Insofar as global warming is concerned, I can unequivocally assure you, the upper troposphere is by far the worst possible place that gigantic slugs of pure carbon can possibly end up.”
Bill Stevens, a long time friend and associate of Richard Dodds who died in 2026, was a noted environmentalist and soil scientist who could count among his many accolades, the Nobel Prize for his lifelong contribution to science by way of his algorithmic research into the long term effects of agriculture on climate change.
In his advisory capacity as Perth based W.U.N. TV’s resident expert in all things thermal and organic, that Bill could plainly see his interviewer ‘Richard’ had no intentions of interjecting, it was with a fair wind in his sails that Bill continued expounding his observational commentary.
“The dust, the stuff that floats when it is disturbed, is the soil’s organic base that exists in the form of carbons. In fact, soil organic matter is a measure of the stored carbon that took from the beginning of time to get where they are in the topsoil. It is this very same topsoil, along with its stored carbons, that is the resource our modern day farmers and departments of agriculture are so keen to exploit at any cost.”
Partaking of a sip of water from his glass, Bill continued. “We’ve all seen that dry, fifty acre cultivated paddock as it warms up on any given totally still day; we’ve also seen the whirly gigs, and dust devils wandering around in all directions as the warmer ground air rises up, and cooler air rushes in to fill the void. Well, the hurricane system that is currently ripping the guts out of the entire country is using the same simple thermal dynamics on a much larger scale.”
“Bill, you’ve just described this current event as a hurricane,” replied Richard. “Aren’t hurricanes an anticlockwise phenomena of the northern hemisphere that invariably run out of puff, and dissipate the moment they hit land?”
“Not any more Richard,” countered Bill. “As I say, I’m afraid the current situation is a whole new ball game - - can we bring up the latest global satellite images?”
Momentarily, as the time-lapse images appeared onscreen behind him, the bearded Akubra hat wearing Bill Stevens, turned his attention back to the camera and proceeded to describe the nature of the current situation in such a way that had made him a household name the world over.
When Bill Stevens spoke, he did so personally and directly to the viewer. The kind of guy who could take the complicated, and abstract and put it up in such a way that anyone, young or old could understand. In short, everyone loved and trusted Bill Stevens.
“As you can see Richard, the storm that’s currently lashing our country is not the only one, we are looking at nine concurrent global events, all 4-8,000 kilometres in diameter. Three, six thousand kilometre clockwise events in the southern hemisphere; three, four thousand kilometre anticlockwise events on the equator; and three, eight thousand kilometre wide clockwise events in the northern hemisphere. Given they’re all evenly spaced east to west, and diagonally separated north to south over all the major continents, it goes a long way towards explaining why they are so incredibly destructive.”
“Relatively speaking, topographically they’re traveling at the same speed as the rotation of the earth less a per centum of ambient drag. If my own fractal algorithmic software, that I’ve developed in conjunction with NASA is anything to go by, I estimate these current events will begin to ‘peter out’ in the next 24-28 hours.”
“Bill.” - - - “Yes Richard.” - - - “To what extent does your software explain the presence of so many dozens of intermediate anticlockwise 500 kilometre ‘typhoons’ 10-20 degrees north and south of the equator? And how do they relate to the three 4,000 kilometre evenly spaced anticlockwise cyclones, and the tens of thousands of oceanic tornado based waterspouts that happen to be perfectly aligned around the equator itself?”
“To a greater or lesser degree, water vapor down low and dust way up high, “ replied Bill.
As Bill continued standing in front of the screen and watched as the interactive live feed 3D global map depicting the relationship of the northern and southern hemispheres via the equator came online, he said. “The sting in the tail of their artificially induced anticlockwise rotation that makes them look like conventional, albeit massive typhoons from space, is the bulk of the heat which is being actively redirected from the northern hemisphere into the southern hemisphere by the cooling action of the Pacific, Indian, and Atlantic oceans.”
“Like the chicken and the egg, there are various schools of thought as to why this phenomena is occurring; amongst many other things, they include a far greater overall land mass in the northern hemisphere, and the lack of an equivalent counteracting set of trade winds like the southern west to east ‘forties’ and ‘fifties’, in the northern half of the globe. Irrespective of what comes first or what, the net result is this - - - although the southern systems are substantially smaller at 6,000 kilometres in diameter, they are vastly more powerful. It is this differential in power that is cause of the ‘vacuum cleaner like’ venturi effect of heat into the southern hemisphere via the accelerator effect of the anti-cyclones on the equator.”
“Is this also simple thermal dynamics, Bill?”
“Yes, I’m afraid it is.” Bill replied.
“Bill, specifically speaking - - - what exactly, is the nature of the so called hurricanes in the northern hemisphere which seem to be flying in the face of the polar laws of nature and conventional logic by rotating in the wrong direction, what does it all mean?”
“First and foremost Richard, unlike the storm events on the equator that are all rotating in an anticlockwise fashion. While the northern storm systems are pretty damn far from conventional in terms of known behavior, I can absolutely assure you they’re not defying the laws of anything, let alone flying in the face of logic.”
“I meant, specifically speaking Bill,” retorted Richard. And as if to wave a red flag in front of a bull, he offhandedly quipped. “Not metaphorically.” Of wit William Alexander Stevens cocked his head ever so slightly. As his eyes lit up, he smiled and retorted. “Richard, these are not just any hurricanes, the storm system that is currently sitting on top of us as we speak, is not just any hurricane.”
“Bill, if it’s not just ‘any hurricane’ what the bloody hell is it?”
“That it’s actually, technically an Antarctic anticyclone, I’m calling it an Antarctic hurricane.”
“An Antarctic hurricane? And the significance of this is - - is what - - Bill?”
“While the three southern hemisphere events are smaller, they are all Category 5’s, if not sixes. Not twenty-five minutes ago, the Coonabarabran Observatory in NSW reported winds of 260 kilometres an hour. This is, as opposed to the northern hemisphere events, although they are bigger in size, they’re only Category 4’s.”
Exasperated, as Richard dramatically shut his folder of notes, he exclaimed. “Bill, not only am I listening, I’m all ears, please - - continue.”
“As we can see from the satellite images, that the southern hurricanes are effectively hijacking the Roaring Forties and the Furious Fifties, the moment these trade winds hit land in latitudes 20 and 30 like they are, they take off like a rocket sled on rails. Unlike conventional cyclones which usually form over water, the current storm event we are now experiencing is drawing on the ambient heat stored in the land to create its own internal energy, which in turn is responsible for the 20,000’ high, and higher updrafts we’re now witnessing.”
“Right - - - ”
“Well it’s wheels within wheels, the suction caused by the up drafts of these storm events is like a gigantic vacuum cleaner; not only are they obliterating and stripping bare the low rainfall top soils of the southern hemisphere, they’re also stripping the carbons out of the rapidly thawing frozen tundra’s of the northern hemisphere. North or south, no matter what, the result is always the same. That the lighter organic material is not only rapidly degraded by way of being oxidized at its source, the lighter and finer materials are being drawn into the upper atmosphere, the heavier silica’s are left to play leapfrog across the landscape.”
“In our case,” replied Richard. “How can the Antarctic as cold as it is, support such a process to the point it is self perpetuating and autonomous?” Nodding his head in affirmation of the very question that was always going to be asked, Bill replied:
“Glad you asked Richard, that this one’s easy, I can tell you there’s no need for algorithms, that’s for sure.”
“Ahhh - - O.K?” Richard stuttered, of wit Bill picked up sticks and retorted:
“It’s like a downdraft wood fired hot water boiler of the type that utilizes coils of copper or stainless tube on the bottom half of a closed circuit rocket mass heater to extract the heat of the fire in such a way that the colder, volumetrically reduced exhaust gas, is literally shunted out of the flue by the relatively higher volume of super heated gas pushing down from above. In such a system, the heat recovery is at its most efficient when the spent exhaust gasses are caused to exit at, or below the level of the fire by way of natural convection. Nature’s no different, that it’s perfectly adept at making heat go down as well as up, all it needs is fuel, and not much of it at that.”
“You know Bill, I’m actually familiar with the Outback Hottie principle,” exclaimed Richard, of wit he took opportunity to introspectively expound his thoughts on the matter. “Years ago, the wife and I made one our-selves. We downloaded the plans off the net, and ten years later, the bloody thing still works a treat. Mind you, given the Hottie’s positive to negative air principle of operation, how does this explain the Roaring Forties and Furious Fifties being hijacked by a sudden influx of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere?”
“It’s the slingshot component,” retorted Bill. As he watched Richard’s pennies drop, it was when the apples all started to line up, that Bill Stevens held his hands out palm side up and cryptically ventured. “Created as a result of the venturi effect - - ”
“I’ve got it!” interjected Richard excitedly. “Correct me if I’m wrong here, the equator is the key, as the air makes its way back to the Antarctic and it cools down, that any moisture is immediately extracted - - it’s an energy offset, or payoff in the form of freezing rain, or sleet. Given what comes around goes around, the super chilled air, of a very much reduced volume, creates a vacuum whereupon the air behind it literally shunts the colder air in front of it like an express train. Like an intercooler on a car, the moment the Fifties are pushed into the Forties they can only go north. As a result of the venturi-effect caused by the Forties and Fifties sling-shotting north and east, the process becomes autonomous and self-perpetuating. Eventually, like the chicken and the egg, it is only when the food stops, the eggs will stop. How did I do Bill?”
“Couldn’t have put it any better if I tried,” replied Bill. “That being said, the entire ongoing conundrum is leaving us with a bit of a problem.”
“Which is?”
“The sand and dust,” replied Bill, “What goes around, comes around.”
“Speaking of which,” Richard exulted. “The major cities seem to be bearing the brunt of the bulk of the sand, is this because of the buildings, or is it a thermal thing?”
“Both,” replied Bill, “As with any wind event, the air on the leeward side of any fixed structure is of a lower pressure, in aviation parlance it’s called ‘wind shear’. That 80% of our population lives on the east coast, and 40% of the 80% reside in the eastern shadow of the Blue Mountains that run over 100km north to south. It just so happens, it is on the east coast where the thermal side of things comes into play.”
“Mmmm?” mumbled Richard, as he stroked what looked like a six-day stubble. That Bill Stevens, was also stroking his beard, he continued his parley of all things relevant and consequential. “In the last 24 hours: Melbourne, Sydney, and Brisbane have all recorded sand falls of 0.6 metres to 0.8 metres. While Hobart has recorded falls of 0.35 to 0.4 metres at the airport, Adelaide, even though it’s of similar latitude to Sydney, has only recorded similar falls to Hobart.
“Given the west to east system becomes a massive wind shear event the moment it collides with the Blue Mountains and slows down. That the up-draughts are dramatically reduced by the reverse cyclic cooling effect of the ocean, it absolutely explains why so much more sand is being dropped on Sydney than the other capital cities.”
“Bill, as of last week as well you know, the atmospheric Carbon Dioxide levels in Hawaii have passed 690 parts per million. The levels are now 691 going on 692, what effect do you think the current world wide hurricane events will have on these levels?”
“In the last 24 hours, I figure that Australia alone can expect to contribute to a rise of ten to twelve, say fifteen parts, Richard.”
“And this will do what?”
“Give us more of the same.”
“Until?”
“There’s no heat left.”
“And then?”
“After the northern hemisphere, the Equator will be the first part of the southern hemisphere to freeze.”
“Bill, are you seriously suggesting we are on the precipice of a new ice age?”
“It’s not like the writing isn’t on the wall, I can see it from here.”
“You mean the whole Margaret Kiddle, unknown author, Masonic thing?”
“I do.”
“What used to hang in Richard Dodds office, and has been reproduced god only knows how many times?”
“The one, and the very same,” replied Bill laconically.
Of wit Richard grinned, shrugged his shoulders, and after making a play of looking at the watch he wasn’t wearing as if to confirm that time stood still for no one; it was without bothering to get out of his chair, he extended his right hand and said, “Bill - - As always, it’s been a pleasure!”
“Thank you Richard.”
“Oh! Just before we sign off ‘A Very Current Affair’ for another day, and only if you absolutely must, you can go to our website, and download a copy of the ‘unknown authors’ ode to Margaret Kiddle, and his or her opines on what I personally consider is a very long bow to draw between the 1880’s and now. I’m Richard Morecombe, as always: may I bid you all - - - a very good night!”
The Richard Dodds, Margaret Kiddle document of wit William Alexander Stevens had referred in his interview with Richard Morecombe, included a copy of a line of text from the Hamilton Spectator dated the 10th of October, 1885 that read: ‘in olden days 60 bushels of wheat and 80 of oats were not unusual, but 25 of the former and 40 of the latter are now considered excellent’. In addition to this line of text that happened to appear in a book by Margaret Kiddle titled: ‘Men of Yesterday’ is highlighted a codicil by Margaret herself, ‘The land was being exhausted. As yet, the farmers either did not know it or did not care.’
An accompanying treatise written by the ‘unknown author’ titled ‘The Tipping Point’ found on the walls of Richard Dodds office at the time of his death in late 2026, read as follows:
‘One thing the early explorers, squatters, settlers, and selector’s diaries all had in common when describing the land, and landscape of the new world, was the soil. “The consistency of peasy: the waggons would cut through it six and eight inches deep, or more.” ’
‘The early pioneers, were in fact describing the original carbon rich, organic humus layer, or more correctly the Mycorrhizal Fungi Mycelium. One hundred and fifty years later, with modern day broad acre cultivation techniques being employed on a never before seen, industrialized scale; that an intact mycelium is a rarity, it amounts to no more than a fraction of one percent of what is currently considered viable arable land’.
‘The ‘tipping point’ due to the advent of Glyphosate in the early 1970’s, resulted in modern farming techniques becoming the dominion of the multinational fertilizer, chemical, and machinery manufacturers’.
‘It is of no fault of the mycelium, that after 150 years of net nutrient removal by way of traditional grazing practices, and a total lack of respite from hoofed animal stock compaction; the bio-dynamically diverse, insulating humus layer of the native host pastures have degraded to be but a mere shadow, or facsimile of what they once were. Long gone are the days where the kangaroo and wallaby grass, standing higher than the wagon wheels; brushed the saddles of the horses, and the legs of their riders as they traversed the land’.
‘Nor is it of any fault of the mycelium, that today’s comprehensively compacted unimproved remnant native pasture ground is dominated by a plethora of low fertility native indicators such as spear grass and foreign invasive weeds, a modern-day agronomist’s wet dream come true’.
‘Given soil organic levels are present and tested in the form of carbons, that took from the beginning of time to get to where they are; and cultivation, by nature of its invasiveness, can completely oxidize those same stored carbons in the space of a few short years, the writing is on the wall: ‘Once the mycelium is lost to cultivation, no amount of cultivation is ever going to get it back’.
Preface to Book Two 'Ground Zero and the Tipping Point'
PDF ISBN: 978-0-6487477-3-4, EPUB ISBN: 978-0-6487477-4-1
The Tipping Point
One thing the early explorers, squatters, settlers, and selector’s diaries all had in common when describing the land and landscape of the new world was the soil. “The consistency of peasy: the waggons would cut through it six and eight inches deep, or more.”
Long gone are the days where the kangaroo and wallaby grass, standing higher than the wagon wheels; brushed the saddles of the horses, and the legs of their riders as they traversed the land.
Unknown Author: Circa 2020
Preface Book Three: 'Ground Zero and the Little Green Men'
PDF ISBN: 978-0-6487477-6-5, EPUB ISBN: 987-0-6487477-7-2
The worst of days:
Little green men may or may not among the trees of the forest therein reside.
That fact should wear lipstick, and fiction a dress - - what then the truth?
Stranger than fact or fiction is true, as blind eyes play and heretics burn, such are the games little green men play.
Timotei Leonid Spassky (12/25/49)
Preface Book Four: 'Ground Zero and the Termites'
PDF ISBN: 978-0-6487477-9-6, EPUB ISBN: 978-0-6487477-8-9
Opines of a Dogsbody:
Wrought of iron, set in stone: read the reader, wrote the writer what wreathe all that is ought and aught not. “Well now!” Thought one particularly ‘obsiescent’ and obdurate thought. “The reader having read? A witness and a poet am I not?” Crash bangedly, the thought randomly bumped around and about, among and amongst the company of so many others. Many and varied were the dazed and confused contemplation's of they, them, and those; having somehow managed to survive intact thus far.
Having survived, the aforementioned thought, adrift in a morass-like ocean of discordant imaginings; could only but wonder of the thoughts of so many. Smashed and broken as they were, for thinking as think they did, ‘Bloody Hell’.