The Pole Shift

Macka pauses at a cave

Macka worked hard with a collapsible shovel. He had stored the spade loosely under a rock at the entrance to a cave, it saved him carrying anything he didn't have to, like a key under a flower pot. The cache needed to be deep enough to avoid metal detectors and it took some time to unearth. He had broken into a sweat, it was late evening on Friday and the light had faded fast in the mountains. Macka knew the shift was imminent, he needed to get to the cache of survival food and gear before it was completely dark, and then into the cave system. Mt Buffalo ran deep with caves, he had explored them many years ago, staring at glow worms, wriggling under claustrophobic gaps. Drinking from the dark pure pools of water as if he was Earth's secret child.

                Finally the cache was uncovered, he spread out a further hundred rounds for the M1A, there were six tubes of peanut butter, a kilo of dried spaghetti and freeze dried bags of trail nuts. There were vitamins, asprin and a small metal pot. He looked at the ammo, it was a lot to carry and would tire him out, but he didn't want to leave it at the entrance, it could get washed away, he'd store it in the cave system. Further in there was another cache of food. He had forgone water, believing the underwater streams would serve him.  He suspected they would be polluted by the Shift's grind quickly though and he fretted. He worried the caves would be inundated, he had been shown models of what the flood would do, the detritus of nature and humanity would sweep all things away, delving into nooks and crannies with fingers of smashed rock and tree, of broken bone and metal.

                 "How deep?" He said, expecting Prophet to give its opinion. He smiled, both missing the AI and glad to be free of its guidance. "I'll have to think for myself I suppose." He looked up at the solid granite above his head, the overhang had been an aboriginal place, they came to Mt Buffalo in the summer to eat Bogong moths, and he had done the same thing on many occasion, trying to connect to ancient minds. Modern minds were near too, there were survivalists throughout the slopes. He had seen no sign of activity by the overhang, it was deeply hidden by the curves of the mountain, but the caves connected and he was certain some would have sought refuge within. Most had taken up holiday homes and huts, fortifying surreptitiously and hoping for the best.

                Macka went to the edge of the overhang, he squatted and breathed in the eucalypt air. He went dreamy, letting his eyes be drawn to the movement of leaf, of bird. His ears moved slightly at tiny sounds, an ancient remanent automatic response, like a dogs.  His breathing evened and his heart slow. The last colours of the day swirled, it was a moment of utter peace even though the earth was rattling. Still in a deep reverie, he let the scene burn on his memory for it would be the last he would see of a mature and settled earth. Even if he survived a prolonged stay in the caves he would emerge of a barren and torn land, where scavenging for sustenance was all he could do. A wind got up and the gum trees whispered, he could hear the tinkle of the mountain stream and then, he caught his breath sharply. Far below, at the entrance of the deep gully a blonde woman appeared. She put her hand to her ear, scanned the upwards slope, and even though Macka knew she couldn't see him she waved. Lett.