Keeper of the Sleeping Minds

Building a future

Building a future

In almost three months in Sydney, I never got to see the opera house. Somehow this last shattered dream became symbolic, teaching me that to survive, I had to grow up. In most ways, our life was better here. There was more food, and most took the opportunity to build up strength. We had to undergo examinations too, but this time, they were not centred around plague immunity. Instead there were different tests. They tested everything from sight to attention span, from the ability to work under pressure to the one to solve complex mathematical problems. They divided us into groups according to results. One group after the other was shipped off to never be seen again. Finally it was my turn.

With about fifty other kids, I was shepherded to a bus in the middle of the night. It took off immediately. The next day, we crossed the blue mountains, moving on westwards with short breaks, through the desert. They kept us well guarded but also well cared for. On the long ride, I became friends with the girl I shared the bench with. Her name was Sandy and she was just a little older than I. We talked the long hours of the drive away, telling each other stories without ever mentioning life before the plague.

Our trip ended in a town called Broken Hill. I thought the name fitting, feeling as if we'd finally arrived at the end of broken hope and dreams. After Sydney in spring, the climate was hell. I wondered why anybody would build a town in a place so desolate, hot and dry. Later we learned this was an old mining town, where rich ore was found. The choice of location, though seeming strange at first, proved to be considered well after all. Old slag heaps still contained a lot of usable rare minerals. We were brought directly to the space centre. Soon it became clear that this project started long before the plague.

Not far from town, in what looked like desert to me but was called 'bush' by the locals, the space centre occupied a surface several times bigger than my hometown. The buildings were well kept and busy with people. Most were suited, of course, but to our astonishment healthy looking survivors worked right alongside. Only in contrast it became clear how haggard and unkempt we looked. But the most unnerving fact was that everybody seemed genuinely happy to have us.

The following months consisted of learning and hard work. At last we found ourselves with a purpose and allowed to actively participate in building our future. They had selected us carefully and set us to work according to our abilities. Several projects ran in parallel. One was building a space port, a takeoff facility for rockets to bring prefab elements of a starship into orbit. There, it would be assembled and made ready for its voyage through space. Another task was building parts for the ship. Most off the large scale welding was done in orbit, but the components were preassembled in huge factory halls.

Parallel, there was calculating and programming going on. Sandy and I ended up in this department. It was fascinating, and I learned a lot. There were special building parts for the suited of course, to protect them from infection. But at work, we got to cooperate. Some days I could forget that the girl working next to me was wearing heavy protection. Her name was Becky, and she was jealous, wishing to be able to shed the suit herself. For the first time I felt that immunity was something precious.