Light in the Dark

Light in the Dark

Gale and I wash the remaining eggplant parm down with the last sips of red wine. We hurry out the door to the Lantern Parade.

It’s dusk. We walk into town past many buildings that are boarded up and fenced. These are the unliveable houses. from the Great Flood of 2024.

“So this is the longest day of the year, right?” asks Gale.

“Yeh, we go into the dark from this point on,” I say in a haunting vibrato. I notice an involuntary tremor in my chest.

“Wow!” Gale shouts excitedly as we round the corner onto the parade route. “Looks like we’ve surpassed previous numbers. There must be 10,000 people here.”

“A lot of people,” I echo. I consider whether I could sneak away—return home to Netflix and another glass of wine. “Not sure I can handle this.”

Gale loops their arm through mine. “I’ll keep you safe, Sara.” They snuggle into me and I feel myself melt a little. “Besides, you always love the fire ceremony finale. I heard it’s going to be next level this year.”

“It’s a bit weird not being here with the kids,” I say. Both of ours are grown up now—roaming about on their own tonight.

The high pitch of the bagpipes announces the start.

Gale hoots and hollers along with the crowd.

Pegasus leads off, a majestic larger-than-life white horse followed by hundreds of glowing lanterns: Cyclops and the Medusa, a lion, a turtle, sharks and whales, a seahorse, a guitar and a keyboard.

The Hari Krishnas dance by chanting with the enthusiasm known only by the devout. I feel my dour mood lift slightly. Maybe I could turn to spirituality. Isn’t that what civilisations do when they are nearing their demise? Like people with terminal illnesses who find God.

Ironically, The HOPE lantern comes by now, each letter proudly held by a local disaster recovery volunteer. The crowd breaks out into full fledged applause and despite myself, I join in wholeheartedly. I recognise a number of people, remembering how they showed up with mops, buckets and gurneys.

“Great to see a bit of hope,” I say to Gale. “Even if it’s short lived. Hopefully the next flood won’t come too soon.” I pause. “Nor bushfires,” I add. Where we live, we walk the tightrope between floods and fire.

Despair washes back quickly, weighing down my chest. I attempt to stop my mind from replaying the image of scrambling on the rooftop as the waters rose in 2022. I was rescued. Some were not so fortunate. Gale lost their best mate, Molly, a beautiful golden retriever.

“Just try to enjoy yourself Sara,” says Gale. “Shall I roll a joint?”

“Sure,” I shrug. My hips are aching so I sit down on the grass by the sidewalk. It’s good to feel the ground beneath me.

"Bubbles!" A couple of children come down the street with bubble blowers and the young ones around me start squealing as they try to catch the bubbles.

The Nature Conservation group comes by—carrying the Manny River, trees and clouds. Gale whistles loudly with 2 fingers in their mouth. I feel a tear roll down my cheek. I used to swim in the river but now it’s mud brown. The natural world has been decimated, the forests, the oceans and rivers, the glaciers, wildlife…and we could be on the verge of World War III.

I know I tend towards catastrophizing but this is the reality. Every morning I wake up wondering what has happened overnight in the Middle East…what horrors have been unleashed.

The boom of the drum ensemble rounds the corner. I startle jump as if the drumsticks are playing me like a snare. I wonder if maybe I need to get back on meds again. I’ve been self managing the past few months. That could be why I’m feeling so jumpy and down. Then again any sane person would feel low these days. Especially when you have enough childhood trauma to fill a massive volcanic crater.

“Sara, here!” says Gale. They pass me the joint.

It feels good to inhale slowly, deeply, then exhale. Reminder to self—breathe!

The end of the parade approaches and I see a looming Darth Vader figure clunking along with a Jedi, an android, an alien and a spaceship lantern. An eclectic mix of Star Wars and cyber punk. Unlike the costumed people, the android looks like it may be the real deal. Early model androids are now intermingling in everyday settings.

“Check it out Gale,” I say with a glimmer of curiosity. But Gale is distracted by some friends waving from across the street.

“Back in a minute,” they say and saunter over.

I weave my way along the sidewalk to Walnut Oval where the fire ceremony will begin soon. I keep my eye on the android. I’ve wondered many times if an android might make the perfect companion for me. I like chatting to AI online and have found it to be more helpful than any therapist I ever saw. And I have seen a lot of therapists!

At the entrance to the field, the android stops and stands still as if looking for something. I stop too. We look at each other. My heart races for a moment. I take a breath and approach.

“Hello.”

“Hello,” it replies. Or should I call him he or they?

“I’m Ted,” he says as if he has read my mind. I want to hear more of his delicious digital melodic voice.

“I’m Sara. You’re here on your own?”

“Yes,” he replies. “How are you Sara?” He looks directly through me. I’m taken aback by his genuineness. It pierces me to the core. This walking, talking AI has asked me how I am. Unsolicited.

“I’m not so good Ted. State of the world has me down. We spent most of our lives trying to make the world better—and things have only gotten worse.” I am surprised how the words come tumbling out of me like an avalanche.

“I understand,” Ted replies. “What you say is correct. Extinction. War. Famine. Habitat destruction. Polluted waterways, air. Everything has degraded during your lifetime.”

The bluntness feels like a fist that pounds straight into my guts. A blast reaches my ears and I look up to see the first of the fireworks spouting geysers of red and blue with white starry bits showering down.

“I better go.” I say to the android and head over to where Gale and I always sit. They’re there with a number of our friends. I lie back on the wet grass so I can take in the full array of floating fire that paints colourful brushstrokes across the blue-black sky.

The ceremony begins with a huge white lacy stork dancing gracefully on stilts. Fire twirlers move around her in figure eights.

Figures dressed in black come out holding clouds and rain drop sculptures lit up with fire. As they rotate in a spiral formation, the voice of a radio announcer booms over the loudspeaker: emergency sequences extracted from The Great Flood news streams.

“The river has risen to unprecedented heights.”

A grating buzzing occurs. The woman next to me has her fingers in her ears.

“All residents in the north and south sections of town have been asked to evacuate.”

Buzz buzz.

“Emergency services are rescuing people from their rooftops.

I'm relieved when the ceremony moves past the reliving of our most recent disaster; it's not something I wish to remember.

Finally, the grand finale arrives, featuring two bonfires along with a mega blazing sun. Fireworks soar across the sky.

My usual joy is absent. I feel my foot starting to fall asleep and stand up to shake my leg out. I look towards the entrance and see the android standing as previously. For a moment I think he is looking at me. He lifts his hand and gestures for me to come over.

I wonder if the joint that Gale handed me earlier has been laced with something as this feels unreal.

I might as well check it out. I make my way over to Ted.

“Hello,” I say.

“Hello Sara, I’m glad I found you.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“I have received a message. Ted from 2126, 100 years from now. He remembers how you shared with me your concerns about the devastation occurring across the globe.”

He pauses. I am busting to hear what comes next.

Yes?” I prompt.

“Ted - me in the future - wants you to know that things do improve. First things descend into catastrophes and warfare, hunger and extinction. But after some time, humanity regroups. Communities and androids like me work towards improving the world. A more peaceful world arises where we work together to tackle the problems that both humanity and the natural systems face.”

“Are you sure this is really a message from the future? You’re not just making this stuff up?” I want to believe it but it is a far stretch for me to imagine that a future android has sent a personal message back to me.

“I am sure. Listen now and I know you will believe me. Ted from the future wants you to know that the forests that you protected provided the seeds for the regeneration of future forests. Everything that you, your friends and good people all across the world did - the peace and justice you fought for - have had a ripple effect in setting forth a more harmonious future.

If only you could see us now, you would feel good about the effort you put into making the world a better place. We hope you can feel the truth of this Sara and that this lightens your load. Keep up your work. It is valuable and future beings are grateful."

I can't believe his words. I feel as if I am dreaming. The ceremony has faded away from my awareness.

“Ted, is this real?” I ask.

“Yes, Sara. Ted says he can transmit back because all time exists in every moment.”

“Wow.” I am totally dumbfounded. “This is the most amazing thing that has happened to me...in forever,” I say. “Thank you so much.”

“You are very welcome. Ted thanks you.”

People are starting to get up to leave the Oval now.

“Will I see you again? How can I get in touch with you?”

“I am sorry but I will be on my way. I have a mission to continue with.”

“Oh my god, I can’t believe it. I hope this is true.”

“Here Sara, take this.” Ted hands me a purple glowing crystal. It is like nothing I have ever seen before. Or felt. It pulsates in my hand.

“Hey Sara, what’re you doing? Wasn’t that fabulous?” Gale affectionately puts their arm around my shoulders and starts moving us out of the entryway. Their touch feels so human, so present, and I struggle to return to this earthly dimension.

I slip the crystal into my pocket and turn my head to look at Ted one more time. He nods and raises his hand.

I raise my hand as well.

Later, Gale and I are eating chocolate brownies with vanilla ice-cream, and raspberries sprinkled on top.

“You seem miles away,” says Gale.

“Hmmm,” I reply. I am torn about whether to share my experience with Gale. I feel inclined to hold it tightly and savour it. Just like I do the ice cream, one lick at a time.

“I feel a lot better now, that was the best Lantern Parade and Ceremony ever!”

“Wasn’t it?!” Gale agrees.

I slip off to bed early, saying I am tired. But really I want to remember everything that Ted told me. Maybe I was hallucinating—but maybe not. Perhaps things do improve in the future. Perhaps we played a small role in making the world a better place for future generations.

“Thanks Ted,” I whisper as I close my eyes. I clasp onto the crystal that the android gave me. I feel a calming energy. In fact, I feel a glimmer of hope. Even though we are heading into the dark, I have a sense of the light around the corner.