Author Archives: Ross Mannell

Morning in class was filled with excited learners. As I passed, each would smile broadly at me then return to the activities. Break was approaching. It was time to call them together.

“Does anyone have any suggestions for our next session?”

One child suggested, “Sir, you could remove the makeup.”

I remembered my young daughter’s farewell as I left for school, “You look pretty now daddy.”

After a late night, I had dozed off at breakfast in the morning.

“Out of the mouths of babes,” I sighed as I looked in a mirror and realised what my daughter had meant when saying I now looked pretty.

For many years Jean and Albert walked through life together. Children, grandchildren and great grandchildren had blessed their lives.

Every day since retiring, they walked to the nearby park to sit and enjoy their time together. Their favourite garden feature was an unusual sculpture. It was reminiscent of a human form.

As time passed, so did Jean.

Albert returned to the park and his memories. A shadow touched his face. He turned to their favourite sculpture and smiled. The heart shape torso had never flowered before but was now covered in red blooms.

Albert knew Jean’s spirit was with him.

Mary thought nothing of the future. Why should she? Her life had been fun and games. Her path was chosen.

Today was her Learning Day.

She removed the interface from the wall socket, connected herself via the port children had installed at birth. Her download had begun.

Two hours later she emerged from her room. Her face showed a new confidence born of the knowledge she now had uploaded to her enhanced mind. Tomorrow she would start her new career.

Her mother, an historian, marvelled, “In your great grandparents’ days, you’d have attended school for years.”

Mary frowned, “Snail learning? How quaint.”

He slept, making no noise apart from the sound of his breathing. His eyes were flicking under his eyelids. He was in REM sleep.

Sleeping on a problem allowed his mind to be open to ideas not hindered by realities of the waking world. Some of his greatest hypotheses had been devised while sleeping.

He almost had the answer to cold fusion. He could provide the world with a cheap, clean source of power.

In his dream state, he spoke, “I have it! The secret is to…”

…the alarm went off…

He woke. His solution was lost. It was time to feed his baby.

Locked inside her growlery she complained, “Why did this happen yet again? I start out with good intentions then it breaks down to a brabble. There’s no use trying to yell but it that’s how it ends.”

Scattered across the floor were cables, power packs, and other paraphernalia, the remains of her foozle fumbling for what was needed. It wasn’t found.

Once again she pressed the “on” button. The mobile came on briefly, stated it had low battery, beeped and switched off. Again her frustration at losing her charger descended into futile brabble.

The screen was blank, ignoring her protests.

It was the time of the dawning story. The young gathered around the kangaroo clan elder.

“I am Badagarang. This is the land of our ancestors,” the elder explained. “Each dawning we await the first touch of sunlight. We say our words of faith and bring warmth to the land.”

The clan stood ready to recite their words.

Badagarang sniffed the air, “Flee!”

Too late he sensed the smells he knew brought danger. Too late he heard the sound of dogs and the guns.

With the next dawning, none remained to say the words of faith. The sun shone but there was no warmth.

Schools and students have permission to use this graphic for non-commercial, educational purposes.