The Pole Shift

Toorak 's People

The two Orange Orbs rose as one, fleeted across the surface of the ocean as distant missiles rose from the Himalayan Fleet then pounded the sea where once the Four Son's craft had been. The Orbs gathered speed and raced away. It took moments to arrive at a destination. A destination the boat would have taken weeks to get to. They arrived at a set of Islands, still blackened from the battle of eighty years ago. People fell to their knees as the Orbs floated to a stop.

"Find us food!" People pleaded.

"We are sick, the children are dying! The Vet is dead, who will teach us?" Urged others. Gasps passed through the gathering as Toorak stepped out, followed by Lett and Macka.  Macka spoke.

"Tragic people, hold on to your civility. Remember your childhood stories and do not think to return to the night for your survival, you are humans who can meld nature to yourselves, not have nature make you return to savagery." There was a long pause as the scared children of the Elites struggled to follow Macka's words. Lett spoke.

"Lost ones, think. " There were words of eagerness amongst the bedraggled , some saying the mother, the moon, listen to her. Lett continued." The time has come to think, not feel. The time has come to work, not ask for luck." There was nodding and agreement, if little understanding.

"These are the people you wish me to lead?" Spoke Toorak. "They seem dumbed, do they know any games or songs?"

"That is for you to teach Toorak, you must take them from the brink. In their minds flows the intelligence of the Old World. Help them rediscover themselves. Teach them songs, teach them games."

Toorak seemed to slump, perhaps remembering his brothers. He stepped away from the Orbs, his clothes and hair scorched. He felt like falling to his knees himself, joining the idiocy that looked at him without understanding. One of the people spoke.

"The Vet was out leader, the Vet is dead. taken by the Witch Woman and her hounds." What nonsense was this?

"I am the Vet now." Said Toorak slowly, he was regaining his composure. How he wished for his Brothers, mighty Collingwood, brave Fitzroy and ready St Kilda. All dead now. The four of them would have gathered these people up by shear will. He walked amongst them, as Lett and Macka stepped into their Orbs and peeled away. He came to higher ground where once a building stood. He looked down on them, still on their knees.

"Firstly, we will play British Bulldogs. I need three new Brothers. Then we will build a ship to hunt shipping containers. We will not hope that containers come to us, that is not us. We take with our hands, not receive." There were murmurs, some hope caught amongst the few dozen.

"Lord Vet, what is British Bulldogs and how do we play it?"

"It was Lord's Jimmy's and Lady Helen's game of the Old World. It shows who rules." Toorak turned away, walking through the pathetic village, his lip curled at the stench of human waste.

"Make a fire." He ordered, and when no one moved he made it himself with much difficulty. "Keep the fire lit. Warm your hovels. Gather all the food you have for a feast. Tonight we sing our first song. Tomorrow we work."

Toorak watched them hobble about, diseased, malnourished. A few children watched him as he took from his pocket the sphere of his once Island Craft. With no fusion loop to control, it appeared useless but it still pulsed electrical charges at certain points. He mumbled to the sphere:

"What secrets are yet to be told of you." The watching children charged away yelling Secrets-secrets-secrets! In a rough melody. Toorak smiled, song it seemed remained in these lost people.