The desert of Coober Pedy is the driest and most arid place I have ever known, but undoubtedly produces the finest opal in all the world. The great irony is that the key to forming the precious stone is rain. When it does fall – once in a blue moon – and drenches the dry ground, the water soaks deep down into the ancient rock, carrying a dissolved compound of silicon and oxygen. Then, during the endless dry spells, the water evaporates, leaving deposits of silica in the cracks between layers of sediment. These deposits cause the rainbow colouring in the opal. That’s what people pay for. The men I hire often ask me what sort of magic occurs to create our product. I give them the science, but they rarely choose to believe me, opting instead for the Aboriginal legend.

It tells of a stunning, butterfly-like creature named Pallah-Pallah, who possessed a pair of beautiful, shimmering wings. One day, Pallah-Pallah flew up to the peak of the highest mountain. But it soon began to snow, and she became buried. When the snow eventually melted, it stripped Pallah-Pallah of her wondrous colours, and they dissolved deep into the ground.

I think, in time gone by, I would have preferred that story too. But now all I see when I examine the fruits of the mines are submicroscopic spheres which refract light. It is merely logical, explicable science. Much like the stars that light the night sky. I have come to accept that they are not mystic beacons of hope and majesty, but burning balls of gas held together by gravity. Truly, it is better to think of them as such, rather than imagine that my Seven Sisters – my former guardians – would forsake me in such a way.

In this respect, I have come to like living underground. The ‘houses’ – if you can call them that, for they are more like burrows – are created by blasting into the rock, which is then excavated with pickaxes. We must ensure that the ceilings are four metres tall to prevent collapse, but rarely go higher. The result is, essentially, an underground cave. Some of the men create light wells, but I have not bothered. I like the dark now.

The skilled men have turned their homesteads into passable replications of overground housing, spending hours carving out arches, shelving, doorways and even art pieces. I have found that I have no desire for such home comforts. I sleep on an ageing, dusty mattress, and keep my clothing in my old suitcase on the floor. I have not even permitted myself a desk. During these last two years, I have found no desire to write in this diary.

When I first arrived, it was a small operation. I hired a team of five miners who were working for another corporation. With the handsome funds of the Mercer empire behind me, I was able to offer them more money in exchange for their expertise. Those early days were hard. We were faced with a vast expanse of land, and it was desperately slow going.

It was in the winter of 1949 that I had my brainwave.

To expand the mines at the rate Ralph Mackenzie wanted, we would need men that were accustomed to working in difficult underground conditions. I sent one of my miners back down to Port Adelaide to scout for young male arrivals from Europe who had faced the perils of the last war and were looking for a new start. My man would approach them and offer immediate employment on a decent wage.

The plan worked. One year later, we had over one hundred men mining for opal in Coober Pedy.

Ralph Mackenzie simply did not believe the numbers I was reporting, so made a trip up to CP himself. I do not take pleasure from much these days, but the sight of his jaw dropping at the vast array of deep working shafts was a treat.

‘Good Lord, Atlas! I can’t quite believe what I’m seeing. I assumed that there was an accounting error. Or, perhaps . . .’ He hesitated.

‘That I was trying to con you,’ I said icily. As the words came out of my mouth, I knew that I was a changed man. One year without Elle in the hellish landscape of the desert had hardened me.

Ralph laughed nervously. ‘Well . . . yes.’ He hung his head. ‘But here I am, and the evidence is hard to contest.’ He extended his hand to me. ‘You’re a titan of industry, Atlas Tanit.’

‘Thank you, Ralph.’

‘I say, I know how rotten it must be out here every day. How do you fancy a few weeks’ break at Alicia Hall to relax? Fully paid, of course. I think it’s the least I can do.’

I shook my head. ‘There’s no need. There’s work to be done here and I’m happy to do it.’

‘Well, that’s as may be, but it’s important to step back and appreciate one’s achievements, too.’

‘No,’ I replied sternly, noticing that Ralph looked perturbed. ‘Thank you.’

He shrugged. ‘Very well. Now, I’m not the expert that you are, but from my layman’s perspective, our plot of land seems rather full.’

‘You are correct. There are few spaces for new shafts left. We would benefit from further areas to mine.’

‘Understood, Atlas. I’ll get you more. The money you’ve returned to the corporation alone will be more than enough to purchase double, perhaps even triple the plot we currently have.’ He gave me a nudge. ‘You’ll soon be a millionaire with your ten per cent. How do you feel about that?!’

I met Ralph’s gaze. ‘I enjoy the work. I’d be doing it for less.’

He sighed. ‘Lord, there really is no cheering you up, is there? Frankly I’m worried about you. When we met over a year ago, I saw a man who was downhearted and broken. But the man I see before me today is . . . hardened. You have done a fine job here, Atlas. But you would do well to remember that life is meant to be lived above ground, not under it.’

I narrowed my eyes. ‘As I said, the lifestyle suits me.’

Ralph persisted. ‘Forgive me if this is a little crass, Atlas, but this is a heavily male environment. There are hardly any opportunities for fraternising with the opposite sex. There are plenty of eligible young ladies I know in Adelaide who would be ever so glad to meet you at Alicia Hall.’

I slowly turned to him. ‘Mr Mackenzie. Please never suggest such a thing again. I have no interest in that whatsoever.’

‘Very well.’

Ralph Mackenzie left, and within one month had purchased ten hectares of new land. For this reason, I increased the presence of men at the port in Adelaide, and very soon, the Mercer opal mining operation at Coober Pedy was the talk of the industry. The operation is all I think about. Each day, I wake up and concentrate on the task at hand. My brain is full of axes, and shovels, and timber and darkness. There is, therefore, no danger that my mind may stray into any other territory which I do not wish to enter.