The Last Super
David Boys Taylor
A Note Before You Begin
The Last Super reaches back to a simpler past, beneath the shade of an orchard’s branch, and forward to a sterile, sub-aquatic future where humanity survives by mining its own past.
It asks a chilling question: when a species runs out of time, how far back into its own history will it reach to stay alive?
The writing is clipped and fragmentary by design, and the opening is deliberately disorienting. Stay with it. The threads will draw together.
(Contains scenes of sex, death, and strong language.)
You are about to read the opening eleven of the novel’s 241 chapters. If they pull you in, the complete novel and Samantha Banks’ virtual gallery are waiting for you on Payhip.
Foreword
When I founded Nurture... The Earth Lung Institute’s terrestrial branch eighteen years ago, I believed that saving forests would be enough.
I can still remember standing ankle-deep in the damp black leaf mould of Northland, New Zealand, staring mesmerised at the 700-year-old kauri we had fought tooth and nail to quarantine from the dieback rot.
If we could just keep the soil clean and fence off enough green, the world might hold.
I was wrong. Trees cannot save a civilisation that has forgotten why it should care. Stories just might.
There are moments in history when humanity measures itself not by what it builds, but by what it chooses to preserve.
For centuries we believed progress was measured in taller cities, faster machines and greater consumption. We celebrated invention while quietly overlooking the fragile systems that had always sustained us. Forests became commodities. Oceans became submerged landfill. The atmosphere, a place to hide the gases we chose not to see.
Nature, however, kept perfect score.
The debt always accumulating.
This archive is unlike anything I have encountered before.
Whether you regard it as fiction, speculation, warning or hope is a decision only you can make.
What I would say... Don’t concern yourself too greatly with those distinctions. Throughout history, imagination has often reached tomorrow before science could explain it.
This is not simply a story about artificial intelligence, climate change or humanity’s possible future. It is one of inheritance.
What do we leave behind?
What do we choose to carry forward?
What deserves to survive us?
Those questions are no longer philosophical. They are ecological, technological and deeply personal to every one of us.
As founder of the Institute, I have devoted much of my life to restoring damaged ecosystems and protecting those still capable of healing themselves. Every forest regenerated, every coral reef restored and every species recovered begins with that remarkably simple act: someone deciding that tomorrow matters.
What follows explores that same decision through the extraordinary journey of one family whose roots appear to stretch through time itself.
Acquaint yourself with scientists, artists, dreamers and engineers, explorers, lovers and the most unlikely of prophets. People separated by centuries yet connected by ideas. A tangled web. You will surely become lost from time to time.
Do not be discouraged
Some galleries are not designed to be understood from their entrance
Walk slowly
Observe carefully
Allow each room to reveal itself before moving to the next
Like all worthwhile journeys, understanding comes not in a single revelation, but through accumulation. Seemingly insignificant details return generations later. A forgotten object acquires profound meaning. A simple tree becomes something far greater than just leaves, roots and a trunk.
If this work leaves you with one lasting thought, I hope it is this:
The planet has never required heroes in great numbers
It has always required enough ordinary people willing to care
Welcome to the gallery and collective works of Samantha Banks.
Art cannot repair a dying world, but it can persuade someone that the world is worth repairing.
Take your time
The exhibition has been waiting for you
Dr Elias Thorne
Founder
The Earth Lung Institute
Early 20th Century — Steam & Industry
Mid-21st Century — Sub Oceanic Pods
Thermal Crisis / Heat / Exodus
(Note for e-reader users: - On monochrome screens, time-period colours will appear as distinct tonal greys)
GREETINGS FRIEND
YOUR VIRTUAL PRESENCE TODAY IS WELCOMED
YOUR INPUT IMPERATIVE
APATHY IS NO LONGER AN ETHICAL AVENUE
THIS PRIVATELY FUNDED HOLOGRAPHIC FEED WILL STREAM LIVE INDEFINITELY AND SHOULD BE EMPLOYED BY LIKE MINDED INDIVIDUALS AS A TOOL TO FASHION CHANGE
SUBJECT ENTITY AND COORDINATES
PLANET EARTH
LONGITUDE: 179° 56′ 39.4″
LATITUDE: +0° 2′ 46.2″
DISTANCE: 7,940 ± 420 PARSECS (25,900 ± 1,400 LIGHT YEARS)
LET ME INTRODUCE MYSELF
I AM STAR...
THE GIVER OF LIGHT AND THUS OF LIFE
WHO GIVETH THE SUN FOR A LIGHT BY DAY
AND THE ORDINANCES OF THE MOON AND OF THE STARS FOR A LIGHT BY NIGHT
WHO STIRRETH UP THE SEA THAT THE WAVES THEREOF ARE TUMULTUOUS
JEREMIAH 31:35
I AM FEMALE... CHROMOSOMAL
A FIFTH GENERATION VIRTUAL BLEND AND AS SUCH DESCEND HEREDITARILY FROM THE ORIGINAL T.E.S.P PROGRAMME CANDIDATES
MY LINEAGE CAN BE TRACED BACK CONCLUSIVELY THROUGH THE BANKS FAMILY DNA SEQUENCING TO PRE-ARTIFICIALLY INSEMINATED CONCEPTIONS... CIRCA EARLY CENTURY 20
MY GRANDMOTHER TO THE POWER THREE IS (DS42111BBB) THE FIRST FEMALE TO BE EXPORTED
THE FOLLOWING TRANSCRIPTS ARE A TRUE AND AUTHENTICATED ACCOUNT OF MY ANCESTORS’ UNYIELDING STRUGGLE AND DRIVE TO RE-FASHION THEIR ONCE BLUE WORLD
ALL TEXTS WITHIN THIS FEED HAVE BEEN VALIDATED
IN NO WAY HAVE ANY OF THE FOLLOWING ACCOUNTS BEEN FABRICATED OR EMBELLISHED TO GARNISH THE TRUTH
THIS DATA HAS BEEN RECOVERED FROM DEEP PARKED STORAGE ARCHIVAL RESERVOIRS HELD WITHIN CRAFT VOLT FOUR
INDIVIDUAL CONSCIOUSNESS DOWNLOADS, VINTAGE RECORDINGS, DIGITAL MEMORY RETRIEVAL AS WELL AS PERSONAL RECOLLECTIVE MATERIAL HAVE ALL BEEN ACCESSED IN THE MAKING OF THIS TRANSCRIPT
ALL ORIGINALLY ENCRYPTED DATA OF A SENSITIVE NATURE REMAINS LOCKED
YOU ARE STRONGLY ADVISED TO CONTINUE FORWARD ALONE, NEGOTIATING THESE COMPLEXITIES AS MY FOREBEARS ONCE DID UNAIDED
MAY GOD BLESS YOU ALL
SALVAGE OUR SEAS
SALVAGE OUR SKY
SALVAGE OUR SANITY
STAR
TO PROCEED PLEASE PRESS THE LINK BELOW
ENTER
WARNING
WARNING
WARNING
The following unidentified download has been classified restricted and is thus deemed in breach of standard colony parameters
Your drive will be terminally disabled if accessed
Reparatory software pending
Risk assessment... Critical
File Violation Tagged Below
Do Not Open
(Penalties apply)
Quadrant 18 : Year 2426 : Radiation level 7
Dear visitor you are cordially invited to view
the retrospective works of Samantha Banks
2005–2037
-----Cross World-----
(Restricted virtual collection)
Code frequency 9 - activate lobe zone 14
Encrypted entry
MESSAGE ENDS
2087
Jack flinched as the cold restraints pulled his torso hard against the synthetic docking cup
The Triple “B” helping to position his stem at the pre-warmed receptacle as if working a robotic rotary cow shed...
The same for Kate, emotion numb... The pained probe quick to source
Strapped apart, blank stares straight, all notions of intimacy lost
“Oh perfect... That new lube sure hits the spot...”
“Maybe just a little warmer next time, matron”
Raised voice as the orderly passed with sarcastic grin...
The human ribbing failing to lift Kate’s mood as she flinched in pain
“I know... A tad short on the foreplay again hun... I’m sorry”
“Guide and slide babe... Just like a bought one”
“Shut up Jack... I’m fucking cold... There’s a dozen sets of eyes looking at me down that bloody camera feed and a 21st century turkey baster with about as much finesse as yours truly doing its best to deflower me”
“Shit... You always have the fun babe... Let’s not forget who’s got to perform here... Talk dirty to me”
“Fuck off Jack”
“Yes Kate, that’s more like it”
The Triple “B” swiped the screen oblivious to the human banter, initiating the rhythmic pulses below, dimming the lights and retreated to the next insemination booth
“Root and shoot hun... Who said romance was dead?”
“Fancy going out later... Dinner date maybe... How’s about we take a stroll up top in the great outdoors... Snaps for the family album... For old times’ sake...”
Kate rolled her eyes, trying to ignore the foreign object approaching her cervix
“What do you suggest Jack... The Park... Beach... A bit of star gazing from a picnic rug maybe”
“Yeah, why not hun... I’m so done with this whole coded coitus thing tonight... Just not feeling it...”
“Brings a whole new meaning to “input” though, don’t you think”
“How’s about we go all old school one last time”
“We could take a little Neil Diamond for company... Still got that old vinyl 33 somewhere”
“What Jack”
“Neil Diamond... You know... Feeling nostalgic”
“I’m thinking a little “Red red wine” maybe followed by some “Love on the rocks”
“Piss me off any more and “Solitary man” would be more appropriate”
“Come on hun... Just trying to lighten the mood”
Jack scanned the ward, already fully resigned to his upcoming fate, deactivated the implant to his rear neck and deftly twisted free
Tucking himself in, he moved to help Kate disengage from the probe
Gripping hand tight, the two slipped from the booths
Level 6 exit... The air lock hissed behind them
1
“Deep breaths... Ready babe?”
“One... Two... Five... Go”
Determined grip he dragged her through... Protective doors... Now quickly breached
“This way... Up top”
Brutal heat flowed instant blind... Kate’s senses screamed
Palm raised... Skywards... Fingers parted, desperate shield... Eyes from smog-wrapped star
Saliva’s leak down perished lip, fast dry from source... Metallic words struck structures case...
“Jack please no... This is nuts”
Wrapping frame... Thermal vest... Of little use
Wrenching arm plus pleading stare
Too late... Too far... Earth-like wants trumped instincts run
“Come on hun... It’s OK... Swallow the tablet”
“Jack no... Get inside... This is so fucking stupid”
Pulling back
Lust-fuelled last... One final thrust... “Babe”
“No way hun...”
“This way... Come on... Out here... Now”
Vintage Vulgar Vain
Dragged down fast through fumbled flesh... The earth rushed quick
As gas burnt star fluxed brutal heat...
Seeped ozone’s choke... Seared lungs leaked life
In his mirrored dream flashed nightmared end...
Cremation live
96 95 94...
Diodes pulsed...
Threw metered blink... Screamed plastic panic... Restrained on wrist the withered burn... Shot warning glare
Hands ripped deep... Stained painted stone
Dried blood mad fried... His salt palms stung
Torso’s close... In warmth remembered... Scents inhaled... Covers wrapped... Whispers soft... Their bed abandoned
Back engulfed... Though pain suppressed
89 88 87...
Retreat to shelter immediately...
Thermal breach imminent
Warning...
82 81 80...
Retreat to shelter...
Chill within... The B’s observed... Distorted horror... Unfolding through acrylic lens... Preparations readied for an imminent extraction
At full stretch he grasped for strap... Removing hardware
“Fuck...
Concentrate...
Come on Jack
Fight it...”
Dredging depths... Not this way... Can’t leave blank
Shit... Now... Quick
Please
Neck drive jammed
Work
Work
“Fuck you”
Knuckled slam... Connecting case... Frustrations broke
Reboot drive
Now...
“Work... Work... Work you cunt”
Forced
Mains feeds jolt... As disc spun free
Instant
Viscous visions... Memories stored... Life’s lucid lie
Download fast
Crippled sear...
The virus beat...
Still deep in wife
“Prepare the suite for a hematopoietic reboot... Have stem cell spray matrices readied”
“I’m pulling them out now... Whose idea was this... Fucking idiots”
“Not sure ma’am... His I think... Yes ma’am”
55 54 53...
Coupled grasp... Swam carnal rage
Intimate
Imminent
Intense
Rides relived... Replayed... Now robbed
Rhythmic race sped spinal jolt... Flushed creeping warmth...
Endorphins coursed
Fed male’s flesh weak... Anger twitched pushed blood gorged swell
Ecstatic...
Numb...
Then still
Afterglow...
Abandoned suit on charcoal’s bed led soft withdrawal... His work complete
“Jack”
Her desperate stare
“Jack... Please”
“Give it up”
“Come inside”
“Come inside with me”
“Jack”
“Please”
“Now”
“I love you”
“Played your part”
“Jack”
“Get the fuck inside”
Words dissolved as death watched still
Flowed mumbled rhyme locked one with pain as life uncoiled
In whispered prayer he mouthed
Delirium...
Above loves sweat
Thy Earth’s sun scorn
Pupils leak at smog’s burnt dawn
Left those beneath
Our final near
Atmosphere Spawned Atlas Fear
Forgive our greed
Let cool we sleep
Torched world of fire
Now wasted reap
Help us steer
Life’s journey slow
Unrelenting
Afterglow
Closure close
Soul with mate
Tasks fulfilled... That simple plan
Rough through dust...
Consummated
Race near end
Debilitated
IDENTIFICATION - (DS42111bbb)
GENDER - Female
NAME - Discovery
Coding’s logged though last to list...
Their gift a girl
Kate slumped... Broke...
Emotions raw... Sinews taut through desperate frame
Strength for Jack this final phase
Space seeds sown, fast lab to dad
The real fertilisation... Initiated earlier
Sperm counts shot now not the time... Not nature’s choice
Too close to zip
Odds stacked high so loveless life
Lest heaven help
Soft
Instinctive care her lips touched nape... Brushed blisters raw
Through ruptured split then midriff stroked, and laboured rise
“Jack...”
Choked wordless part shrank vapoured tears... She turned
Retreat to bunker
Ushered quick to cool within...
Oasis calm...
The airlock hissed
Alone
Face at ground spat pasted dirt, his lip split deep drooled mad man’s foam
Demonic talk fought fading burn
“God don’t care coz God aint there”
The download raced
17 16 15...
2
2030 LOG - I0
dot dot dot
dot dash
dot dot dot dash
dot
dash dash dash
dot dot dash
dot dash dot
dot dot dot
dot
dot dash
dot dot dot
The pencil’s head struck the composite desk with audible clicks
Covert conversation... Character coding
Telegraphically transmitted
Words through rhythm...
Morse
Derailed... His thought train seized... Trapped in tunnel
S O S
Save Our Seas
Shit... Focus... Thomas
Muttering scandalously to himself
Five weeks and counting
35 days... 24 hours... 60 minutes... And yet another...
60 excruciating, non-refundable seconds wasted
Bollocks... Come on man
Go with your gut...
“CRUDE”
“Was definitely that”
“Just maybe”
Toying with an idea, a title for his upcoming presentation... Tom rolled his eyes... Then the antique toy... Forwards and back across the desk
Frustratingly blank
Today’s topic
Saving the species
No biggie
“Christ man... Stay on task”
Samantha glanced over
Irritated... Struggling with her own sub-surface roadblock
Her latest work... Much like the oil, had not flowed smooth
Brazil on the brink, the Gulf still burning, Europe fractured, it was, if nothing else, topical
“You know what... Crude just might do it... What d’you think?”
“I think you need to pull your finger out of your proverbial”
“Yes but... Dictionary definition... Look”
Origin Crudus:-
Raw or rough
Offensively coarse
Rudimentary or makeshift
In a natural or raw state
Not yet processed or refined
“That’s it”
Semi satisfaction... The file saved... Though progress pained
Eyes elevating Tom drifted, relished ripples... Imagining the waves they’d yet to generate...
Beyond the sphere... Above his stupor... Liquid slipped... Pulled past pod
Displaced weed in turbid flux... Terminal tense... Pre epic voyage...
Her ripping tides betrayed
Mesmerised
Adrift in thought...
Fluid
Festering
Frustration...
Fuel... Family... Futures flawed
A toxic bouillabaisse... Symbiotic stew...
Inextricably linked
Political snakes down well-greased ladders
Moral climbs
Flowed oiled slides
Inseparable...
Back to black
Forever reasoned... Excuse met lies
Means to that end...
Greed... Desperation... Patriotism... Poverty
Direct or not... Oil pumped his ancestral heart
Father... Uncle... Grandfather... Back
Petrochemicals... Auto assembly lines... Steel mills
The vein ran deep
Returning presence, he summoned a flush, adding a grin... Smug heat...
Crude...
Yes... Of course
Well judged
A not-so-subtle finger to his insufferable dad, somewhere a world away on the surface
Slick stuff
Like father... Unlike son
Fuck him
Stretching for the table he slid the worn bookmark from between creased pages, warmth through familiarity... Blank like stare at the surrogate marker
“Take Only Photos, Leave Only Footprints”
Times less complex
That summer vacation
A distant memento... Youth... Some lazied land... Pacific
Tuvalu
Submerged... Engulfed... South’s saline suicide
Innocent speak or visionless verse
Fluxed reckless rhyme
His new world’s version... Pressed hard on chest
Carbon
That lethal print
Across the lab Sam straightened... Agitated... Eyes wide through the protective lens... Green
Out to the acid bath beyond... Transfixed
A cerebral jolt
“Tom... I’ve got it... It’s perfect”
Painter’s block spontaneously evaporating... Scribbling notes
Trance broken, falling back... Now focused mind
“Hit me Warhol”
“Go”
“Combine the two”
“Sure babe... Whatever... Eh... Combine what exactly?”
“Your thesis Einstein... Your thesis and the expo... My exhibition”
Tom snapped a caffeine pouch
“Sorry hun, lost me... Explain”
“Tom... For fuck’s sake... Wake up man... You don’t have this luxury”
“Time’s ticking”
“Nobody’s visualising this demise... Expose their greed... Challenge positions”
“You know that words alone are futile... CO2... Just more hot air...”
“Never galvanise...”
“Let alone portray the enormity”
“Look”
“We’re sat here in this toxic paint stripping vat... This underwater shit tank... Planting useless coral gardens while...”
“Got it... Of course”
“Create a secure entry... Encrypted... Keep the suits out”
“Sam, Sam, slow down, the connection, the point?”
“Hit the fuckers at the faculty with pictorial stimulus... You talk, I paint”
“Christ you know how these things go... Same Shit... Different Bay”
“Jolt them into realisation; into action, smash them with a melting berg they can’t ignore, a Titanic moment”
“We’ll hide the work in a virtual gallery, oceans deep... Unfathomable...”
“Invitation only”
“Babe, course they fucking know, they don’t give a toss, the sea’s rooted... As long as those dollar bills keep rolling in”
“Anyway, I kinda like synthetic sushi”
“Shit Tom”
“Look at us here... You know what”
“If this whole drama’s too hot to handle, drop it now... Go get a fucking virtual assistant’s job up top”
“We both know which way the mercury’s heading down this tube”
“And there ain’t nothing cool about it”
“Honestly pal... This is your final warning... I’ve got three words for you... And guess what... They all start with C”
“Courage... Carbon... and Cunt”
“Stop acting like one, get some of the second and sort the third”
Sam spun pissed... Cutting him dead... Kelp seeds sown, the first three works already exploding to her liquid consciousness
3
1914
The fall was inevitable
Half blind then losing traction, stretching for the rail, his useless arm failing
Grease under boot like low tide slip on slip, his performance began...
“The Cancan of Cripple” Atop the edge of some beast
Losing Pearl’s outstretched grip while dropping the plans, gravitational shackles momentarily evaporating
Pasts flashed... Fighting flight
Lever engage... Twitched piston woke
Command... Forward... Tempting the machine age giant to task
Nonchalant ease...
Flowed strangled scream...
Demonic... Drowned... Dismembered
Sickening...
Baffled by the press’s ferocity
One man’s murderous terror... Brutally extinguished...
As once again... The mighty revolution of industry marched onwards
Unstoppable
Car number 10,000, a moment for history
Cameras flashed
4
Self-control Samantha... Chastising herself
Anger trumped artistry
Cool it girl... Calm down... Not his dream... Nor demise... Not this way
Her breath stroked the hard acrylic casing... Condensing fog then back to clear
Blood’s slow retreat
“Better... Relax girl”
Fingered title to the lens ahead... Hard-fought forays
Centimetres away... Huge pressures at play... Crushing the sphere
Within the same... Forces immense... Weighted down on her
Smothering dreams in a blanket of blank
The artist on block...
Starter’s block taut...
Yet juices still blocked
Painter in pod
She stared at its curves
Inspiration abandoned
Studied LOG - I0
Her plastic prison... Comforts confined
Home for the last 14 months, a fluorescent capsule, groundbreaking in design...
She and Tom... Amongst the first
Positioned strategically around Earth... Coastal waters and reefs
Synthetic domes
Prototypes for the masses...
“A Saline Suburbia”
Brave new worlds...
Depths precise at fifteen metres, optimising sunlight... Filtering through
Dark... Unassuming... Silent
Cocooned from the cancerous light
Web-footed guinea pigs had duly been selected... A two-year secondment
Qualities required... An inquiring mind... Desire for change, and field expertise...
Preferably PADI
One of Tom’s worst...
Forever the Squid...
Damp
Amphiprion melanopus... Their resident clownfish
The prospectus read well...
Cutting edge research conducted on site...
Their main focus... Green
Renewables...
Those much-mooted movers
Tom grimaced; eyes rolled to skull
In brief... “Progressing the Eight”
Aquatic crusades...
Sub-surface grail... Pre unfathomed fail
That last desperate roll of a well-shaken dice
Above... Outside... Beyond
Aggregating...
The masses now nervous
Landlubbers restless... Turning of tides... Evolution or Revolution
Sea change required
And fast...
Anger apparent... Their shoaling in shock
The media primed
Facts fast to press...
Fabrication faster
Too Little... Way Late
Squandering funds
Where now our fish
Useless pricks... Swimming in a sea of irrelevance
Progressing the eight...
Mind-numbing numeracy now filled their days
Solar
Hydro
Geothermal
Biofuel
Wind
Wave
Tidal
Biomass
The company’s motto...
State Of the 8
Correlate. Investigate. Debate. Initiate
Upbeat enough... Belying the truth
Corporate dross...
Reality grim... Tween fact, fantasy n foolhardy... An oceanic void
Both knew... Pondered their fate
Futility beneath... Wasting in wet
Where now?
Where after eight
What then...
Futures foreseen yet failures not fathomed
Ultimately...
What...
Outlandish perhaps...
“No land at all”
Finito
Game over
The End
Humanity overboard
Tom shoved another chocolate mint to his cheek, flicking the wrapper... Treats from up top
Third strike...
After Eight...
“Fuck it... Mental note... Diet tomorrow”
“Sam... Grab your fins... We’re done here for today”
For the young graduates, also on the agenda, the re-introduction of Pacific corals
A much-needed distraction
Brutally depleted, through bleaching and acidification, the battle continual
Funded primarily through ACRO... The Alliance for Coral Recovery and Oceans
Together with other more discreet donations the project stayed buoyant
The brief...
Further develop and reinstate large-scale in-water coral nurseries, restoring reefs and seagrass along affected coasts
As always... Tackling problem, not cause
Sam would see scarlet... Always... Dinner party dynamite... Ructions
Don’t challenge her on it... He never did... Battles lost
Acid tongue re acid rain provoked animated debate
LOG - I0 their own home... Perfectly encompassed the current predicament... Magnitudes faced
An unfortunate anagram
Their submerged dwelling, similar in shape, though not hewn from ice, coexisting with the sun
Tom often pondered the irony, his adopted abode, and those of his heroes
Aleut, Yupik and Inuit...
The mystical Snowshoe-Netters... Iconic on ice
Melting to memory
Slipped from the shelf
The dive had delivered
Discord defused
Cosseted below... Relaxed on their ledge... She slipped quick to sleep
Tom lay taut... Trance-like in tank... Figuring futures
Night moods advancing... Stealth light to black... Watching his wife
Darkness fast... Creeping through base... All but the monitors
Above...
Rampaging heat... Falling from earth... Curvatures cool
Moonless black... Vivid escapism... Electric crackle...
Arcing through dark
Sam groaned... Under yet fighting... Sweat soaking through
Her canvas drought broke
Visions exploding
Pristine islands
Ruined by greed
Title Encrypted
Gouged across surface
CRUDE
Half-hearted Eden... Now hellish Hell
Desperate search... Squeeze every drop
Race but no winner
North of sleep the surface stretch broke... Collisioned through chaos
Rupturing high above arched capsules cool
Deepening troughs cast shadows on skin
Still, her night currents and the acrylic paint danced
Three wind turbines... Seized... Silhouetted against a toxic sky... High on an outcrop... Useless crosses in a now windless world
5
1911
“Stop”
“Benjamin”
“Please”
“Benjamin... No”
Ben’s eyes leaked, sharp wind stinging, Molly behind, burying her face in his shouldered tweed, excitement palpable as the tandem flew
Single stroke whine as the rubber left earth, sending them skyward...
Momentarily
Belled vibrations and abrupt fall from space
Affectionately christened ‘Thumper’
Today was the bike’s first real outing
Several test runs... Starter’s orders from the shed... Then fast through the allotment had suggested much promise
But the first double carry... Exhilarating
Molly squealed
Of course, there was talk... Inevitable envy
Whispers at the club
Six months ago... Their enrolment... The first tandem bicycle
That once preserve of the single saddle brigade, bastions breached
Ructions for sure
Introducing a handlebar-mounted engine to the rogue machine would have no doubt caused an emergency session
Heated debate
Benjamin not caring a jot... Loving the infamy
“Silver Spokes”... Evolve or Perish
Molly’s warmth, addictive speed... Plus carburettors suck...
The club could go pedal
Out of fuel, hysterical laughter, bike under tree, their secret place, a hot sun banished
6
Tom hit Hibernate, the presentation pedestrian, coral beds secured, he lay at her side
Sandwich... Steinlager... Sam
Heaven under Earth
Tuna on Rye... His favourite fish fix
Mariner Sub for Starving Submariner
Unease underneath, he eyed the telemetry, plotting its course
Isobars packed, showing erratic barometric pressure
Recent reports... Historical data rendered redundant
2028... Iceland... The Katla event, culminating in a huge methane hydrate release, climatically catastrophic, resulting in the current global destabilisation...
Heating accelerated... Patterns now changed... Chaotic
Tonne for tonne... Over 80 times more potent than the old enemy carbon dioxide... Its fiercest years still ahead
The meltdown on speed... Spewed mass from vents
Seasons unstable
The meteorological feed was predicting a biggie... Sell out at sea...
The weather model monstrous... Blockbusters beneath...
Tracking from North... His countdown began
Two graduates... Just watching waves... Tension wound tight, expectant intrigue
Eyes elevated, sipping his beer
Silent... Rigid... Transfixed to the stars
Gripping each close, the matinee rolled
“Ready babe... Hold tight... It’s going to be a biggie”
Ripples of breeze signalled the start... Light puffs and shifts
Liquid low chop...
Scuffs...
Windward slapped roll, the initial plot slow...
Gentle yet rhythmic...
Coaxing... Natural force built, through rippled applause
“Nice...”
Fuelled by warm waters, sucked to its core
Advancing...
Stronger...
Dramas delivered
Aquatic Anger... Audible
Hostile
Cold foams first... Flotsam... Floating... Fast free to sky
Surface breaks
The liquid’s skin stretched...
Wrenched
Currents once calm... Now mad smashed confusion
Darkening shadows... Brushed walls of pod... As carnage ensued
Eternal battles... Fury live... November’s niceties
Gone
Shattered mirrors... Walls of hard white... Tumultuous fight
Cyclone surreal... The season arrived
So near the equator... Unheard of
Upon them... Literally
Sam held close... Last night’s work foremost in mind...
Vivid... Still raw
Anticipation of creation... Challenge of reality
Tom’s palms ran... Brutality above... Constant wonder... True tests for his nursery
Ruptured Seas
Rapturous Cheers
Fisting the air
“Wow babe look at that”
Amazing... Glance to each other
Then breathless to break
Intermission
The eye of the storm... Aloft... Silent... Centred above them
Tracking its fury
Calm in the chaos
“Shit... Sam quick... Sit down”
Second act... Instant
Approaching with menace
At distance out east... Sucking...
Insane... Raw building force... Vacuumed... Like giant through straw
Quick overhead
Ear popping pressure... Wrenching the pod
Distorting pure form
Light smashing silence... Singular burst... Blinding the grads
Excruciating pain forcing lids shut
A hot star’s glare biting at shell
Greetings a gas
Tom reeled, computing the situation... Stunned by the bright
Filters above... Overhead screamed... Fighting raw air
Like fish tossed on deck... With fire in their gills
Exposed...
A sea’s sheath gone...
Trough cutting deep
“Count Tom... One... Two... Three...”
Darkness...
Back to the womb... Familiarity...
Shadows then cool... The sea falling shut
Trench swimming west
A cyclone’s ferocity... Stunning reminders...
Mountainous storm exposing the cell
A 15-metre cut... So close to shore... Unprecedented...
Tom’s mind raced... Considered implications
Positioning paramount
Depths so precise
Cool for protection... Dappled in light... Facilitating growth
Critical for propagation
With levels rising... Useful life span... Guesstimated at a century
Sudden exposure raised worrying questions
Soggy scenarios
Studying screens... Tracking the beast...
Relaying data to pods in its path
Samantha stared... Bound in some spell... Scene visualising
Biblical works
Parting of seas... Revealing the dome... Hot star centred... Searing her reef
Mad surging tides... Filters a choke
Spitting dead gas
7
Town was a throb
The auto factory’s success could only bring cash
Grumbling guts... Bellies now silenced... Futures were mobile
Molly burst... Happiness theirs... Ben’s new posting... The terrace soon vacant... Baby due spring
Sacrifice for sure... Short-term pain... But a few nights extra... For that life of well... Perfect... An easy trade
His thinking inspired
Like Otto, Diesel and Daimler before... A genius spark
New lighter casings revolutionising performance
Twin burn system... 30% more efficient
Plus, lighter to boot
Rivals clamouring... Colleagues in awe
Funny thing that coin dropping... While riding their bike
“Penny for them Ben” she’d smiled
He’d mused... The club’s change of heart... “U-turn” complete
Sudden acceptance... His mad new contraption... Molly and motor
Stance surely swayed by Saturday’s newspaper...
Headlined print screaming...
“Money in Banks”
“Brilliant Benjamin...”
“Builds Bright Spark Success”
Under their tree... Molly and motor... His hand on their future
Hiccups of love...
Baby inventor...
Restless with youth
8
Alone in her studio Samantha’s mind raced... Charged inspiration...
Drawn from that storm
Canvas 2
Encryptions complete
WALKING ON SHELLS
Four cubes adrift... Silica seas
Each with its footprint... Carbon... Black
Underfoot... Downtrodden... Calcium dreams
Shell re the fuel... Company blazing
Fractured in sand... The S falling foul... Hell
Shell re the shrapnel... Dictator’s disgrace
Shell crushed extinction... Dodo... One nest from oblivion
Shell for the shock... Coffin afloat
Finality
Swirling in sulphide... Splintered wood sign... Strangled by kelp
Bitterness sprayed
Venom like hate
‘Take only Photographs, Leave Carbon Footprints’
A collaborative masterpiece... Tom’s well-loved bookmark and her...
Well...
She had seen sea shells
The power now palpable
Grinning
One for the wall
Definitely
A virtual vision
Twenty-five and riding the wave, technical leaps, she’d swum with the net
Last year’s implant though... A mind-numbing jolt
Consigning state of her art to history
Literally
Changing the game
Mastering still
New ASI technologies... She pressured her neck... Locating the gland and loaded the drive
Mind to Material... A tricky transition
Fixing her vision, the hard edge formed, components in flux, as imagery pulsed
Finessing raw tones... Perspective... Form
Her thought process sparked
New art... Modern art... Straight from the Soul
Medium through medium
No brush to wash
What would he think?
Warhol would trip
Satisfied subject she pressed on her neck
Where to... Casual mode... Relax... Done
Creative collapse
“Yes...”
State of the Art... Nice
9
Tom eased from the hatch, the storm’s fury passed, pull drifting free
Reconnaissance initiated
Limited visibility... Pressure valve checked... Depth gauge recorded
He glanced at pod... Debris noted
Distracted
Life lost below... Comfort contained... His demons suppressed
Isolation... Safe structured world
Not so for Sam
Her struggle continual... Missing dad desperately... His holograms hollow
Cold
Craving his touch
He lived with that guilt... The posting was his
Wrenched quickly back
Reality shot
Pupil dilation... His friend had arrived
Aggressive
Adrenaline
Coursing through veins
Harsh vacuumed pull... Sucking at flesh... And sped to the surface
Air quality 6
Breaking through skywards
Spinning to beach... And manoeuvred ashore
“Wow... Wow... Wow”
“Fuck me”
“Wild”
Cataclysmic welcome
Bashing to end bashes
Some party
Devastation
Everywhere
Shattered plantation... Uplifted coral... New powder beach
Shit
The power to change
Climbing the ridge
Deserted
Silent
Abandoned
Left long ago
Indigenous drafted
Sweet wet to salt
The giving back started
Ashes to Ashes... Dust to Dust... Atoll to Ocean
High to his left... The tar stumps stiff... Beckoning dark
Chest working hard... Neurons alive... Justify visuals
Petrified forest... Beautifully brutal... Exposed by the storm
Fossilised masts... Battalions out wide... Broken by surf
Cogs crunching quick...
Computing
Petrified... Petro
Greek
Rock or the stone
Hurried... He sketched...
Structures... Some to the sky... Some laid at rest
Delicate tree rings, captured in coal
Silent ebony... Black pawns submerged... The queen long defeated
Demise horizontal
Fins reattached he slipped back beneath
Unnerved... Unnatural... Underwater...
Playing... Calculating... Manoeuvring
Gliding through seagrass
Be defensive...
Check
Careful
Capture the Bishop
Methane permeating
Mate
Returning to pod... Samples in tow
Descending
Behind
Unwanted... Archaeology... Abandoned
Left at the reef
10
2087
Sun or Supplement
Decease Death Die
Simple enough... Maybe it was... The vial would trump
Jack always knew
Like sex or insemination... For him the choice easy
This very moment... Lectured... Rehearsed... Now here for real
Click...
With downloads complete, right to the last, his moments retained, captured for kids... For daughter on disc
His Katie now gone... Slipped back to core... Cool... No need to turn... Their futures begun
Canvas for kinship, he crouched for the end
Raw heat searing... Weakened resolve
Familiar images talking of hope
Five scenes... Abandoned skies
Lost below blue...
Landscapes
Ocean... Sand... Soil... Forest and Ice
Through the terrains... Silent... A Pipe
Pressured hot black
Turning to sky... And high to the stars... Morphing to cross
The metal wind beast
Seized
Title there sprawled
PIPE DREAM
An inquisitor’s past
Jack felt her close... Grandma... Her spirit through paint
Moisture sucked from now sallow flesh
Perish in heat or bite on the vial
The “supplement” quick, three minutes flat, a coward’s demise
His way longer... Valiant... Heroic... Bloody stupid
Determined the end
With last moments logged
Eyes blank... Rolling in cold... Sucking at snow... Life racing fast
Hallucinogenic burn
Crackled like tinder
Corpse copulated...
Crisp
Just as he left, the canvas combusted
Fire... Ice... Gone
Peace...
The Jack now unplugged
11
Ben beamed... Eyes wide to his beautiful wife... Summer love... Loving summer
The magnificent “B M T”
“British Motor Tourer”
Benjamin Banks Triumph
Adopted by the press... The people’s new darling
If only they knew... Were in on the joke
The true acronym
“B M T”
‘Ben & Molly’s Tandem’
Laughing through breeze
Pear dew on chin, laid towards skies
Sweet with the fruit... Sweet for the other... And with success
Lovers dreamt
Futures promised... Heat of the sun... Molly nuzzled
At full stretch, Ben’s boot teetered on the tip of the saddle, trunk for support, he reached for the branch
Higher still, lungs filled with breeze, hay fever nose, sap sticky grip
Molly giggling on grass below... Toe to the rim... Thumper for balance
Bees stupid, drunk on the dew
Plus-fours at stretch... Ascending the canopy
Up bark, leaf and fruit
Peering at pear... Right, left and front
Every direction... Regiment straight
Planted en masse, row after row, fruitwood the crop
Tightness in grain
Timber that turned... Wood meant for wheels... Beauty plus strength
Yet ultimately flawed
Brittle when pushed
Splintering wrecks
The new choice now elm
Redundant as rims
Put out to pasture
Pear free
Ben held close...
Hob boot locked... In studious task
Cutting his verse
Precarious prose
Penknife gripped... Emotions now flowing
Benjamin, Molly, Thumper and Pear
Fruit, Bike and Lovers
A Summer so rare
June 14th 1912
Benjamin Banks
Stretched for the mirror... Reflections of love... Signalling bride
There for eternity... His world
Wedged high... Limbs dangling... Message to Mol...
Drifting in warmth
Molly dozed... Summer’s sun... Warmth in long grass... Meadowed bliss
Time slipped... Molly dreamt... Benjamin braced... Sensing the worst
Pins and needles sparking dead limbs
Sick sixth
Here before... Or so now it felt... Staring down, his world below
“Goodbye Molly... Take good care of him”
The whisperers had mocked...
A hopeless pear...
Limb for a limb...
Why...
Fruitless endeavours...
The gossips spat worse...
Act of the gods
Maybe
Some act
Why
Why now
Bitter cruel
Indistinguishable movement... Indistinguishable noise
Dead wood compromised shot sudden crack...
Splitting the air
Breaststroke frantic...
Temporary flight
Swiping at nowt
Then smashed ripe race down
Shit
Motions slowed
Molly slept
Sickening force
Engine block strike
Ben’s skull misshapen...
Like soft fruit on stone
Instant...
Crimson... Flowing from the grips
Sleep... Startled... Heat... Baby... Terror
Wife now awake, frantic... Fighting
Bloodied stream through forced silent scream
Help me... Somebody please
Episodes from hell
Sobbing
Ben limp in arms
Time travelled slow... Swimming through treacle...
Floating in numb...
With them... Gone... Hope pushed despair
Respect from the papers... The same from the club
Silent in grief
The story continues…
A century of Banks family secrets, through orchards, oceans and outer orbits.
The Last Super, the full novel, $3.99 (PDF and ePub)