The morning in our caravan was quiet, the kind of stillness that is both comforting and unnerving. Chris and I sat at the small table, each nursing a cup of coffee, our breakfast simple and unassuming. The air was filled with the aroma of fresh bread and the earthy scent of our instant coffee.
As we ate, Chris suddenly paused, his expression turning contemplative. “I just remembered,” he began slowly, “my sister was supposed to come stay with us the first weekend in August. She's travelling all the way from Melbourne.”
I stopped mid-bite, his words triggering a realisation. “Wait, what date is it today?” I asked, a frown forming on my brow.
We started working backwards, recounting the days since our arrival in Clivilius. After a moment of silent calculation, we concluded in unison, “It’s Wednesday, 1 August.” The realisation that Chris’s sister would be arriving in just a few days back on Earth hit us both with an unexpected pang of sadness.
I put down my fork, the food suddenly less appealing. “It’s strange, isn’t it? How we’re losing track of time here,” I murmured. “It feels like we’re just on another one of our study camping trips, not in a completely different world.”
Chris nodded, his gaze distant. “Yeah, it’s easy to forget we had lives back in Tasmania. Here, everything is so... different.” There was a wistfulness in his voice, a longing for the familiar.
“Maybe we should talk to Luke about my sister’s visit,” Chris suggested after a pause.
I shook my head slowly. “But what use would that do, Chris? We have no idea how our property is faring in our absence.” My voice was tinged with a hint of frustration. “We barely see Luke, let alone get a chance to talk to him about our former lives.”
An uncomfortable silence settled between us. A sense of urgency began to gnaw at me. My thoughts were a whirlwind, focusing on the need to set up our Plant Nursery and Orchard with haste. “Chris, we can’t delay this any longer,” I said, my voice laced with a newfound determination. “We need to start building the nursery and orchard. It’s essential for our survival here.”
Chris looked at me, his expression showing a mix of concern and caution. “Karen, I understand the urgency, but we need to be realistic about our resources and capabilities,” he cautioned.
I leaned forward, my hands clasped tightly on the table. “We have to try, Chris. We’ve already got Vincent the goat and those hens. They’re depending on us. We need to build secure and permanent enclosures for them. It’s not just about them, it’s about us, our future here.”
Chris sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I know, I know. But it’s a massive project, Karen. We don’t even have all the materials we need,” he pointed out, his voice tinged with worry.
“We’ll find a way,” I said firmly, my resolve unwavering. “We can use whatever materials we have now to start with. We can improvise, adapt. We’ve always been good at that. Remember how we managed to fix that broken fence back home with just some spare timber and wire?”
Chris’s lips twitched into a small smile, recalling the memory. “Yeah, that was quite a day,” he admitted.
I reached across the table, taking his hand in mine. “We can do this, Chris. Together. We’ll make this place a little more like home, for us and for our animals. We owe it to them and to ourselves.”
There was a moment of silence as Chris pondered my words. Then, slowly, he nodded. “I suppose we also have Grant and Sarah,” Chris admitted.
“Yes, Grant and Sarah will be invaluable,” I agreed, squeezing his hand gently. “Their expertise with wildlife will be a huge asset. We’re not in this alone.”
Chris’s gaze met mine, a flicker of determination lighting up his eyes. “You’re right,” he said, his voice steadier now. “We’ll pool our skills, use whatever resources we have. We've always been resourceful, and this is no different.”
I nodded, feeling a wave of solidarity between us. “Exactly,” I said. “We’ll start small, prioritise what's most urgent, and expand as we go. We can salvage materials, repurpose what we find. It’s about being creative, finding solutions.”
Chris’s smile broadened, the initial worry in his expression giving way to a sense of purpose. “I like the sound of that,” he said. “Let’s get to work on a plan. We’ll need to map out the space, figure out the best locations for the enclosures.”
The conversation shifted to logistics and planning, our minds working in tandem as we brainstormed ideas and potential challenges. We discussed where to place the nursery and the orchard, considering sunlight, soil quality, and proximity to water. The more we talked, the more it felt like we were piecing together a puzzle, each idea bringing us closer to a clearer picture of our future here.
As we wrapped up our breakfast, a sense of anticipation filled the air. We were on the cusp of something new, something meaningful. With a plan beginning to take shape and the support of each other and our fellow settlers, the daunting task ahead seemed a little less insurmountable.
After breakfast, with the morning sun casting a gentle warmth over our caravan, Chris and I set off to visit the Drop Zone. The jar of baby spiders I had captured yesterday caught my eye as I prepared to leave. Each tiny life within the jar was a reminder of the delicate balance we were now part of in Clivilius. I felt a pang of disappointment at the sight of several more spiders that hadn't survived the night, heightening my eagerness to find them a more suitable home.
As Chris and I ascended the final hill, dust swirling around our boots, the sight that unfolded before us was astonishing. Nearly two hundred and fifty trolleys, scattered haphazardly between the Drop Zone and the Portal, were brimming with an array of goods from last night's raid. The vast assortment of items sprawled before us was both overwhelming and slightly disorienting.
Approaching the sea of trolleys, I began to survey their contents with a mix of curiosity and practical consideration. Each trolley seemed to tell a different story, overflowing with basic necessities like packaged food and clothing, but also dotted with less essential items such as toys and various electronic gadgets. The contrast was stark – essential survival supplies juxtaposed with the luxuries of our former lives on Earth.
“Do you think they may have got a little carried away?” I mused to Chris, my voice tinged with a blend of amusement and skepticism. I held up a small television, its power cable limply trailing in the dust. The absurdity of having such an electronic device here, where we barely had enough power for our basic needs, wasn't lost on me.
Chris didn’t respond verbally, but his expression mirrored my thoughts. After a moment, he turned and began walking back towards the camp, leaving me to contemplate the scene alone.
“Where are you going?” I called out, a hint of confusion lacing my voice.
“To the camp,” Chris's voice echoed back, his hand waving in a gesture that seemed to dismiss the chaos before us.
I watched Chris's figure diminish into the distance, pondering his abrupt departure. Deciding to make the most of my time at the Drop Zone, I turned back to the trolleys. Despite the overwhelming array of items, I resolved to sift through the goods. Perhaps, amidst this hodgepodge of plundered items, there might be something useful for our budding Plant Nursery, the Orchard, or a new home for my jar of baby spiders.
As I meandered among the trolleys scattered across the Drop Zone, a sense of purpose guided my steps. My eyes scanned the piles, searching for something specific amidst the chaos of goods brought through the Portal. Then, nestled among a collection of trolleys from the pet section of the store, I found it — a terrarium. Perfect for the baby spiders, it was a much-needed beacon of hope.
I carefully emptied the trolley, leaving only the glass terrarium. My heart fluttered with excitement at the thought of providing a new home for the tiny creatures that had unexpectedly become my charge. Methodically, I sifted through adjacent trolleys, gathering essential items like gravel and other terrarium supplies.
As I placed the jar of baby spiders into the terrarium, I felt a wave of relief. They would soon be free from their cramped jar, a small victory in the grand scheme of things, but significant nonetheless.
My attention was suddenly caught by the sight of several dozen trolleys brimming with plants. Luke and Beatrix had outdone themselves, providing us with a diverse array of flora. Excitedly, I began to sort through the plants, my mind already envisioning the layout of our future Plant Nursery.
Pushing my now-loaded trolley, I made my way back to our caravan, the wheels crunching on the dusty ground beneath. The terrarium sat securely among the various supplies I had gathered, each item a small but significant piece of the puzzle in creating a new home for the spiders.
Once at the caravan, I carefully began the process of setting up the terrarium. As I layered the harsh gravel at the bottom, I realised its coarseness might not be ideal for the delicate baby spiders. It struck me that a softer, more nurturing base would be better – a mix of gravel and potting mix perhaps. “If Luke and Beatrix brought plants, they might have brought some potting mix too,” I muttered to my jar of baby spiders.
The sun was still low in the morning sky as I wheeled the now-empty trolley back to the Drop Zone. With each step, the wheels sank into the soft dust, but our frequent trips had begun to carve a natural path, easing the journey somewhat.
Upon reaching the Drop Zone, my eyes roved over the scattered treasures, searching for the potting mix. After a bit of rummaging through trolleys, I finally found several bags, and with a sigh of relief, I hoisted them into my trolley.
As I prepared to head back, my attention was caught by a section of trolleys from the homewares department. Curiosity piqued, I wandered over. The trolleys were filled with everyday essentials that had become luxuries in our new world. There were cutlery sets, plates, bowls, and even some decorative items. A smile touched my lips as I picked up a set of cutlery, appreciating its mundane yet comforting familiarity. "It's funny how these little things can make such a difference," I murmured to myself, placing them into the trolley.
My gaze then fell upon a set of sturdy crockery – plates, bowls, and mugs, all in matching earthy tones. I couldn’t help but feel a tinge of nostalgia, reminded of the small joys of setting a table back home. “These will be perfect for the caravan,” I thought out loud, carefully stacking them in the trolley alongside the potting mix.
As I meticulously sorted through the array of goods scattered across the Drop Zone, Paul approached, his laptop cradled under his arm. He greeted me with a nod, his face etched with a mix of urgency and concern.
"Hey, Karen," he greeted me, his voice tinged with a tension that immediately piqued my curiosity.
I glanced at the laptop, an unexpected item in our rugged, makeshift world. “What’s the plan with the laptop?” I inquired, intrigued by its presence.
Paul sighed, the weight of responsibility evident in his demeanour. “Luke and I plan to use it to contact my family. It seems far-fetched, but we're clinging to hope. Luke believes it’s important we try,” he explained, his tone reflecting a blend of skepticism and determination.
“That’s great, Paul,” I responded, my mind racing at the possibilities this technology could offer. “Actually, that gives me an idea. Maybe Chris and I could use it to contact his sister. She’s supposed to visit us soon, and she needs to know…” My voice faltered, the gravity of our detachment from Earth momentarily silencing me.
Understanding dawned in Paul’s eyes. “Of course, Karen. After we’re done, you and Chris should definitely use it,” he offered, his voice firm with resolve.
Grateful, I nodded, already formulating the message we would send to Chris's sister. Shaking off the emotion, I refocused on my immediate task.
I continued my search, gratefully picking up some fresh bedding. With the challenges of washing and the relentless dust, fresh bedding was a luxury I couldn't ignore. With each item I added to the trolley, I felt a small sense of accomplishment, a step closer to creating a semblance of home in this unfamiliar world.
The Portal's sudden activation sent a ripple of energy through the air, drawing my attention. Two adults emerged, closely followed by a teenage boy who I presumed to be their son. Paul, upon seeing them, hurried over, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like curses.
I decided to keep my distance from the family's introduction to Clivilius. Balancing a heavy trolley brimming with goods, I began the slow, laborious trek back to the caravan. The wheels sank into the soft dust, making each step feel like a small battle.
Before I could get far, Luke, who must have come through the Portal without me noticing, called out to me. “Hey Karen!” His voice carried over from where he and Paul were standing with the new arrivals.
I glanced back, feeling a twinge of reluctance. “I'm busy, Luke!” I yelled back. My mind was focused on getting back to the terrarium. These new arrivals are Paul's responsibility, not mine, I told myself stubbornly.
But Luke was insistent. “It’ll only take a few minutes!” he called out, determination in his voice.
I let out a heavy sigh. I knew Luke well enough by now; he wouldn't let this go. Reluctantly, I abandoned my trolley, leaving it half-buried in the dust, and made my way over to the group.
As I approached, Paul's family looked understandably overwhelmed. The teenage son seemed particularly out of his element, his eyes darting around the alien landscape.
I forced a smile, preparing myself to welcome them to our strange new world. After all, it wasn't so long ago that Chris and I were the ones stepping through the Portal, wide-eyed and full of questions.
“Karen, meet my parents, Noah and Greta. And this is my younger brother, Jerome,” Luke introduced his family.
Before I had a chance to properly greet them, Greta enveloped me in an unexpectedly tight hug. "Lovely to meet you, Karen,” she said enthusiastically. I managed a polite smile, maintaining a semblance of composure despite the surprise.
“Likewise,” I responded, feeling slightly awkward as my hands hovered awkwardly at my sides. I shot Luke a glance, silently communicating my discomfort.
Luke’s chuckle broke the tension. "I guess I’d better get you some clothes to change into,” he said to his father, who was self-consciously adjusting his dressing gown.
Greta finally released me from the embrace. I couldn't help but notice her pyjama bottoms adorned with happy Jesus faces. It was a stark reminder of Luke's Mormon background, a sharp contrast to my own secular upbringing and a life devoted to environmental conservation where religion had never really found a place.
Jerome's voice cut through my thoughts, tinged with a mix of hope and naivety. “Can’t we just go home?” he asked, edging closer to the translucent screen of the Portal.
“Well,” I began, seizing the opportunity to excuse myself from a conversation I had no desire to partake in. "I guess that’s my cue to keep moving. These garden supplies won't move themselves.” I gestured towards the direction of my laden trolley, eager to return to my task.
With a quick nod to Luke and his family, I made my exit. As I swiftly walked away, leaving Luke and his family behind, I felt a weight lift off my shoulders. The ease of slipping away from an uncomfortable situation was a small victory in itself. The trolley, heavy with items, made its way through the dust.
I glanced back briefly, catching a glimpse of Luke explaining something to his visibly confused family. With a light-hearted chuckle, I realised the minor slip in my parting words. In my haste to leave, I had mentioned garden supplies, but a quick look into the trolley reminded me that it was filled with potting mix, cutlery, and bedding – not a single plant in sight.
I shook my head, amused at my own eagerness to exit the scene. I really did get ahead of myself, I thought, the corners of my mouth lifting into a coy smile. It was a harmless error, one that I hoped went unnoticed by Luke and his family.
