Garth Dutton

Cold Wind From The South (Part 3) – A Short Story

Cold Wind From The South (Part 3)
© Garth Dutton, 2007

    A few months after the dream, their ‘Church of the Feminine Earth Spirit” had its
first doctrinal split. The issue involved was whether the fossil fuels used in the Industrial
Age were meant to be used to stabilize the climate for the whole of Earth’s benefit, or
whether they were laid down specifically to enable humanity to survive a long Ice Age.
In a way, the argument was completely irrelevant, because there was not much left of the
fossil fuels. No-one had any idea how people were going to survive an Ice Age
without fossil fuels for heating, and there was no oil left to raise the CO2 levels to stop
the Ice Age. Many people were starting to put their trust in the ‘Church of the Natural
Balance’, as they alone believed that they could stop the Ice Age. But the concept of the
Feminine Earth Spirit appealed to many people as well. A considerable number joined
both churches.
     But it was an old argument, in new guise, about whether people are an integral
part of the environment, or a class of beings apart from it in consciousness, intellect,
destiny, and so on… In other words, were the fossil fuels created for the whole of Earth’s
benefit, or only for people’s benefit. The split was irreconcilable. About 45% of members
left with the dissenting councillors. Bitter arguments followed in court about the Church’s
now considerable income and assets.
    “Things are going off the rails,” said Smyth, as he and Pauline walked out of the
Adelaide Courthouse.
    “Just consider the distance we’ve come since that day in the seaside bar,” Pauline
reminded him. “After that session in court, I feel like a drive and a cup of tea or coffee
somewhere down beside the sea. Pick a beach suburb you haven’t been to in years and
we’ll go there.”
    “How about Semaphore?” he suggested.
    “Why not,” she replied.
    They reached their hydrogen fuel cell car and drove west towards the beach. They
neared the coast a short distance south of Semaphore. The road, called Military Road,
went between the lake plus housing estates of West Lakes and the built-on remnants of
sandhills.
    “The problem with making too many plans,” said Smyth. “Is that we haven’t
much idea what is going on in the rest of the world. Like what is really happening in
countries like Canada, Scandinavia, Russia and Scotland? They could be under metres of
ice and snow for all we know.”
    ‘The democratic government takes the line that what we don’t know can’t hurt us.
They haven’t lifted censorship on the NET, for example,” said Pauline. “Not much we
can do about that… Could you imagine a landscape under ice like that?”
He found he could envisage such a scene and went on to describe it to her. He had
always refused to say anything about his time in the State Security Police, even to
Pauline. She now saw how they had used his skills. He could describe in detail a real
scenario from a few fragments of information.
    “If you can describe it in that detail, then that it what is actually like. Right
now…” she said in wonder. “Mentally part of you was just there.”
    Smyth frowned. Objections to her point of view filled his mind. “I can’t see how
that’s possible,” he replied.
    “Neither can I, love, but it doesn’t matter,” she said warmly. “But it’s a skill you
shouldn’t be ashamed of.”
    Smyth spilled out deep fears. “The dread that a scenario would be wrong in some
slight, but significant detail, made my life in the Security Police a nightmare,” he said to
her for the first time. There was no need to say more.
    “That’s why that other nightmare still worries you, isn’t it? That’s why! In case
some important detail was wrong,” Pauline said softly. “I told you that everything
anyone does involves risk. One has to be a warrior. A warrior can cope with any
circumstances that arise, so doesn’t live in constant fear of the future. Collective
Consciousness warned you, so it’s on your side. A powerful ally, if ever there was one.”
She smiled to re-assure him, then continued. “In a way, all circumstances in the future are
unseen, because everything we do involves choices. And risks. I’m not sure premonitions
really exist. At best they’d be warnings, not factual events.”
They came to Fort Glanville and turned into the short road that would bring them
to the Esplanade.
“Fort Glanville,” said Pauline. “Now there was a scare. About 200 years ago, in
the 1850’s during the Crimean War, there was a rumour, and a wild panic that the
Russians were coming. So they built this fort, and a few others, and linked them by
Military Road to repel the invasion.”
    “I know the story,” Smyth said as they came to the Esplanade. He stopped the car.
They got out to look at the beach and sea.
    Suddenly Pauline turned pale. “Two hundred years ago,” she murmured.
“Someone had a dream or vision. What if it was a dream or vision ‘out of time’, if that’s
how it’s described? Two hundred years ‘out of time’. Not an event, just a warning.”
    Smyth’s vision of the northern pine forests sticking out of a metre of ice
drifted back into their minds. They looked at each other and then out to sea. And as they
watched, the first grey warships appeared on the horizon.

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