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11:17 Wednesday 22 February 2192
Dmitri rushed into the kitchen of the elegant detached house in the suburb of Sumner, Christchurch, Aotearoa. He had been playing in the garden with his children, eleven-year-old Alexander and nine-year-old Gabriella, enjoying the beautiful weather with its clear blue skies, the slightest hint of whispy white clouds, and a slight welcoming breeze. He and the children had been playing keepy-up with one of the half dozen soccer balls that the family owned. Gabriella was particularly good at this game, borne out by her recent selection for the Sumner Ladies FC squad (under tens).
“Andrea. Good news. Well, kind of bad news for someone but good news for us. I hope.”
His wife stopped preparing lunch and handed her husband a mug of tea.
“Sit down. Enjoy a cuppa, and tell me what’s happened.”
Dmitri accepted the drink gratefully.
“Remember how we’ve been training to be part of the exploration programme, should the opportunity arise in our lifetimes? The pathfinders to resettle the rest of the planet?”
“Of course I do.”
“Well, that day is today. The last human, as in non-Recarn I mean, has died. Aotearoa’s protective shield has automatically dissolved. We’re free.”
Dmitri was understandably excited but Andrea had mixed feelings. She loved the idea of being part of the first group of Aotearoans to see somewhere other than her homeland but she loved Aotearoa too. It had everything that anyone could want. It had lovely beaches, spectacular mountains, sun, snow, rainforests, and open spaces. It was Nature’s greatest achievement, a country that encompassed all the natural wonder that one could ever hope for. The North Island offered those beautiful beaches, forests, and higher temperatures whilst the South Island was more rugged, with its enchanting hiking trails, snow-capped mountains, the almost primeval atmosphere at Milford Sound, and the shrinking Franz Josef and Fox Glaciers.
But there was a great adventure to be had. Ever since it became generally known that the FS Virus had not only suppressed Recarn PLMs but had also caused the vast majority of humans, be they Recarn or not, to become infertile, those who were immune - the estimated two and a half million Recarns who lost neither their PLMs nor their ability to reproduce - knew that the survival of the human race was in their hands.
They had previously been considered mutants, a threat to humanity, and a scourge that must be eradicated. Recarns had been systematically killed in their millions, scapegoats for the actions of the few. They were not only personae non gratae, they were considered a plague.
It was a tragic but delicious irony that those who were persecuted had turned out to be the very people who would ensure the survival of the human race. At first, there was envy, jealousy, anger that a number of Recarns should be exempt from this virus that was wiping out the species but then a feeling of inevitability washed over those that were destined to die childless. They understood that this small group of Recarns was the future and should be cherished and celebrated rather than be the objects of jealousy and ostracism. Of course, initially, there were instances of hate crimes against these Recarns, driven by fear and a sense of misdirected jealousy, but the agreement by referendum of New Zealanders to annex their country as a safe zone, where they could create a new world society, diffused a difficult situation.
Unusually, the project was handled with great sensitivity. Zafar kept his word and held democratic elections to gain the population’s mandate to go ahead with his plan. He also didn’t suddenly import one and a half million foreigners (the previous estimates turned out to be a little high plus some fertile Recarns simply didn’t want to go) with no consideration for those that already lived in New Zealand. The new immigrants were provided with good quality temporary housing and New Zealanders were not driven from their homes, only to be replaced by these ‘intruders’. Their houses would eventually be given to the settlers but not until the last family member of the occupants had died. It was important that the old and the new got along together, for the loss of a settler was a loss of an opportunity to repopulate the planet. A naturally environmentally responsible nation, the New Zealanders had understood that and, with their lifestyle not being threatened, had welcomed the strangers, often forging great friendships.
A decision was taken by the residents of New Zealand, both original and Recarn that when the last original New Zealander died, the name of the land should be changed to Aotearoa, ‘the land of the long white cloud’ in the Maori tongue. A fresh start deserved a fresh name and was a fitting tribute to the original indigenous Maori people. The last New Zealander who wasn’t one of these Recarns had died six months previously at the grand old age of one hundred and six years. A special ceremony was held and a statue of him erected both to commemorate his life and to recognise and thank the original New Zealanders who had been so welcoming. The country’s name change to Aotearoa was also inaugurated at the same ceremony and, from that day on, New Zealanders were known as Aotearoans, members of the most cosmopolitan and diversely populated society that has ever existed on the planet.
The FS Virus had been no respecter of nationality, race, colour, sexuality, ability or any label that people might have once tried to assign to their fellow men and women. This was reflected in the makeup of the Aotearoan people. There was no typical Aotearoan; with such a small population there was no desire to continue with old prejudices and bigotry. The colour of one’s skin was of no importance to anyone. Nobody cared if a person of one ethnicity married or had a relationship with another. Families became a collage of interracial harmony, indeed it was unusual to see an entirely white, black, or Asian family. Those that did form a family from within the same racial demographic occasionally felt a need to confirm that it was through sheer chance that they had met and fallen in love with a person of the same demographic. But Aotearoans didn’t really care.
Aotearoans had lived in a gilded cage for decades. The land was undeniably beautiful and they had wanted for nothing. All their needs were met – except the need to satisfy their curiosity about the rest of the planet. Most Outsiders, named as such simply because they lived outside of Aotearoa, had accepted their situation, their death sentence, and had been perfectly willing to help out the Aotearoans, but, of course, some Outsiders would no doubt try to enter the country that they saw as a modern day Shangri-La. Similarly, some Aotearoans could be expected to harbour a desire to leave their haven. That is why the protective shield had been installed.
Any supplies or provisions, food, products, medications etc. that the Aotearoans might need were delivered by specially adapted drones, which were able to pass through the dome. However, once they had made their delivery, they self-destructed so that they couldn’t be used to escape. Not that capturing a drone would have helped any would-be runaway; the passage through the dome was only one directional. Virtual contact between separated family and friends was allowed via the internet but actual physical contact was impossible. Nobody was allowed to enter or leave Aotearoa.
Until now.
Dmitri beamed at his wife.
“The last living Outsider has finally died. A one hundred and seventeen year old retired shepherd named Octavius Raznak. Apparently, he was living on fruits and berries in the highlands of Afghanistan. He was on his own, completely alone. The monitoring system recorded his time of death at five thirty-three this morning.”
“So...”
“So, that means that there’s nothing stopping us from leaving this place. As soon as old Octavius died, Aotearoa’s protective dome dissolved. We can go and see the world. We can reclaim the planet. It may be dangerous – who knows – but it will be an amazing adventure. And it’s not as if we’ll be travelling blind. We’ve both travelled extensively in our past lives. So have the kids. We have all that experience to utilise. We aren’t meant to stagnate, no matter how beautiful the land we live in. It’s a human instinct to want to know the unknown. And we are human. We are the hope of mankind. We owe it to ourselves and to all those that went before us.”
Andrea looked at her husband, thinking how good it was to see him so enthusiastic.
“There is one thing we need to think about.”
“What’s that?”
“What am I going to wear?”
Dmitri grabbed Andrea by the waist and drew her towards him. He kissed her and then released her slowly.
“I’ll tell the kids. We’ve got a lot of packing to do.”
THE END