2021 Perry Group Papers

The ADF’s Future Hinges on How it Prepares Today for a Climate-Crisis World

This story seeks to highlight the effect that climate change is likely to have on people and how it has the potential to create harm in society that is comparable to the effects of war.

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The ADF’s Future Hinges on How it Prepares Today for a Climate-Crisis World.

This story seeks to highlight the effect that climate change is likely to have on people and how it has the potential to create harm in society that is comparable to the effects of war. This demands a pre-emptive response from Defence which acknowledges the notion that ‘unprecedented is not a reason to be unprepared’.^[i]Should Australia continue without decisive action to curb global carbon emissions, we are consigning ourselves to the future environment forecast in the sixth IPCC report.^[ii] In this environment, the world in our story becomes ‘the’, rather than ‘a', future for Australia. This story is researched and referenced against likely real events, with embedded QR codes providing access to sound bites of the story, if desired.

In addressing the security implications of climate change on the Australian Defence Force in 2040, this story seeks to communicate the following key themes:

Australia’s national resilience in 2021 is threatened through supply chain vulnerability, scarce assets and concurrency of events. This is amplified by the 2020 Defence Strategic Update indicating no strategic warning time prior to commitment of the ADF to high-intensity conflict.^[iii] These will likely threaten Australia in 2040.
With little to no strategic warning time expected prior to committing the ADF to high-intensity conflict, the Australian military cannot afford to be a primary responder to future climate related events without compromising fundamental aspects of national security.
Should the ADF and Government continue to approach the security implications of climate change as we have in the past, the finite human and material resources of the will be insufficient for these broad tasks.
Defence is well positioned to lead efforts in managing the security threats of the future by focussing on generating greater unity of effort across government and civil society today, rather than growth in personnel and funding to further Defence’s contribution to climate-driven national emergency responses.

Kim’s Apartment - 78/50 Barrie Way, Bruce, Canberra, 23 October 2040

I woke suddenly, wet with perspiration and out of breath. The clock blinked 0330. I sat up, trying to shake off the dream and the terror in Jamie’s eyes as she was dragged away from me and pulled under the surging water.

A thumping noise slowly dragged me back to reality as I realised my thrashing must have roused our 11-year-old Golden Retriever, Ozol. I commanded Slido to switch on the lights, which Ozol took as her invitation to jump into bed with me. I hugged her warm wriggling body into me, grateful for the comfort she offered. My head ached with fatigue, but the risk of reliving Jamie’s death stopped me from drifting back to sleep. Instead, I dressed quickly and left for work.

I tried to shake off the dream as I headed for the bus stop. My phone offered a message from Mum and an article about the ongoing water wars in the Brahmaputra as distractions. I opted for the news and scrolled through the many articles on people and places overwhelmed by the effects of climate change, wondering how we would prioritise which nations to support.^[iv] There were simply too many.

The bus silently glided up, startling everyone including the magpies. I stepped gratefully into the warmth, identifying a seat across from an older woman dressed head to toe in brightly coloured wool. Her long violet skirt was wrapped under a crimson coat and tartan scarf, making me think of the sunsets in Townsville. It offered a glaring contrast to the drab greens and browns of my ‘all-season’ camouflage uniform. She was mid conversation with another woman who, impatiently blinking at the other woman’s rapid-fire diatribe, seemed decidedly less interested in talking at this early hour. The woman in wool spoke animatedly about her son’s achievements at the Australian Defence Force Academy (ADFA), including topping his class in the aerial security simulator. Noticing my uniform, she decided I would be a more enthusiastic audience, and she redirected her attention to me.

‘He just wants to be able to help people, so he’s trying for logistics or health roles so that he can get into disaster relief.’

‘That’s great,’ I said, resigning myself to the conversation. ‘It’s a big part of our role, responding to disasters overseas before other relief agencies can get there, and his skills with the unstaffed systems will be really helpful.’

She nodded happily for a moment before realising what I had just said. ‘Wait! Overseas? I thought the Australian Defence Force (ADF) prioritised Australian disasters!’ She sounded worried.^[v]

Like a lot of people I encountered, her understanding of the ADF’s role was stuck in the past when the ADF still had a Humanitarian Aid and Disaster Relief (HADR) Corps. ‘There are national and state-level organisations for domestic responses now,’ I explained. ‘The ADF contributes where and when they can, depending on other commitments, but our primary role is security operations.’

‘Hmph,’ she muttered doubtfully. ‘What do you do in Defence?’

‘I work in the Australian Operations Coordination Centre,’ I replied.

‘Oh, what’s that now?’ she asked.

‘It’s the organisation they came up with after 2030,’ I said. ‘Everyone who is involved in domestic responses are represented there.”

‘That’s right, working on climate disasters together under whatshisname, the politician?’

I couldn’t help but smile at her comment. ‘Yep, that’s Ryan Michaels. I’m just an Army Major, and I help to coordinate the ADF’s contribution to current operations there.’

‘My son would love to be in that role. Any advice? I understand it's very competitive.’

She looked eagerly at me while I searched around hopefully for a diversion. Fortunately, we were approaching the old Defence precinct at Russell. My stop.

‘Best of luck to your son,’ I said simply, stepping off the bus and heading for the mismatched collection of buildings that made up the Australian Operations Coordination Centre (AOCC).

I knew we needed more good people who were enthusiastic about helping others, but I felt I’d made a lucky escape. The last thing I wanted to do was talk to a stranger about what I did in 2030, especially today, on the 10^th anniversary of the disasters. I was a ‘lid’, fresh from training, and like the rest of the ADF I was completely overwhelmed. In the lead up to 2030, Australia developed an expectation and a reliance on the ADF to help in a range of situations and secured expansive funding to meet this growing task list. The political problem became a reality in October 2030, when there was a series of disasters starting with an early fire season, now known as ‘10/30’. The ADF was already exhausted from intense back-to-back domestic and regional climate response operations when Cyclone Vanessa, a category 5, hit Cairns. The ADF response was limited and slow. The result was 49 people dying whilst waiting for their usual saviours, the ADF, to rescue them from the floodwaters.

It was my first command. I had no idea how to manage the pitifully small and exhausted team that had been redirected to me from supporting bushfire responses down south. We were poorly equipped and not conditioned to the harsh tropical climate, losing 11 more of our own to heat illnesses before it was over. This, in addition to all those people that we couldn’t save, still haunted us all 10 years later.

The inevitable Royal Commission into the 10/30 events resulted in the formation of the AOCC. The ADF, Home Affairs, Border Force, Foreign Affairs and Trade (DFAT), Australian Signals Directorate (ASD) and the Commonwealth Scientific and Industrial Research Organisation (CSIRO) were now all housed under one roof working for the politically savvy Secretary of Domestic and Regional Responses, Ryan Michaels.^[vi] The Royal Commission narrowed the ADF's role to security, and now the ADF only provided limited emergency support to HADR before being relieved within a few days by other agencies. Australia’s organic emergency response capability had grown as a result; we now had resources and trained people to respond if the ADF was deployed on a security mission and a climate event occurred simultaneously.

I was shaken back to reality by the crispy noise of gravel crunching under my boots as I reached the security gates. I looked back over my shoulder to see the woman in wool smiling warmly at me as the bus floated away. She reminded me of my own mother, hopefully looking to me and the ADF to help fix the problems of generations of inaction on climate change. Mum made a huge effort when I was growing up to educate me on environmental issues. She would furiously listen to parliamentary debates and beat the kitchen bench with her fists, yelling, ‘They just don't get it … it’s a multiplicative problem, climate change doesn't just add problems for people, it multiplies them throughout the entire living world.’^[vii] Mum is a legend like that, using simple models to explain complex problems. I sighed loudly, to no-one but myself, hoping I would live up to both women’s expectations for me today.

Start of Shift - Australian Operations Coordination Centre (AOCC), 23 October 2040

I convinced the dodgy reader at the AOCC entrance to accept my credentials and decided coffee was my first stop. When the doors finally shuddered open, I headed straight for the brew room. The only coffee we had was the Nescafe Blend 23, deemed appropriate for ‘passing the public test given the political climate and food shortages’. It was better to annihilate your tastebuds rather than actually taste the stuff, so I went for the double shot ‘46’ special.

Chatter filled the surprisingly full brew room. Dee, my ever chipper Australian Federal Police counterpart, appeared in front of me. She winced at the dark circles under my eyes.

‘Rough night?’ she asked. ‘Tell me about it later. We need you in the operations room now, they’re asking for an aircraft.’

Tense clusters of people in a variety of different uniforms and suits gathered in front of a 4D Battlefield Management System showing the exact position of forces under AOCC control in Australia and the Indo-Pacific.^[viii] I hurried to reach Jay Goldwick, the current Chief of Staff from Border Force, and my immediate boss.

‘Kim! Great that you’re here early. The Lilydale fires need water. The wind picked up overnight and there won’t be time to evacuate everyone unless we can slow it down. Find out if the ADF can give me an aircraft, will you?’

I nodded and headed for Sam, our watch officer from Tonga. Sam had moved to Australia under the Pacific Military Serving scheme that provided citizenship in exchange for 10 years’ service. She completed her service last year, but stayed on, grateful that her reality was no longer struggling to feed her family as her homeland shrunk under rising sea levels. I sat down, put on my ServicePal headset, and Sam launched straight into it.

‘Hey mate, I saw the aircraft request. I’ll give JOC a heads-up. Get caught up—start with the conference.’

I nodded and located the recording while she gave me short updates on the cyclone in Bundaberg, the DFAT food relief activities in Fiji and the stabilisation operation in the Solomon Islands, in addition to the other domestic fires in New South Wales (NSW) and South Australia (SA).

Yesterday this fire rapidly approached the regional centres in the Yarra Valley. As I hit play at 2X speed on the conference held overnight by Lindsay Lee, the Fire Commissioner and task force commander responding to the Victorian fires, I saw a lot of exhausted faces waiting in the room. ‘The front is generating its own weather system.^[ix] We anticipate more spot fires on the flanks due to lightning. The wind change means Lilydale will likely be taken in the next 48 hours. We need to start rapid evacuation measures, moving people south to the centres in Melbourne.’

I switched it off and scanned the ServicePal for any other reports that might give me a better sense of the situation to help me convince the ADF’s Joint Operations Command, or JOC, for assistance. I called Yan Barrington, the Air Force HQ rep, as Sam looked on expectantly.

‘Yan. Hi. We need an aerial water bomb delivery capability for the Victorian fires to slow the fire down, otherwise Lilydale might not have the chance to evacuate. Victorian capability is already overstretched. The fire is too close to the city with nowhere to do firebreaks and their aircraft are in maintenance after last month's fires. There’s no capability for at least a week.’

‘Hey, Kim. Yep, I got a heads-up from Sam. We’ve already committed one aircraft to the fires in SA and the other one only just got back from NSW and is about to do maintenance itself.’

‘Can you give it to us? It’ll need to be a rapid deployment, probably on station for at least three days, and however many crews you’ll need to do continuous ops until we can get contractors stood up.’

‘I’ll have a crack, Kim, but the boss hates these last-minute requests,’ Yan said.

I understood his position. I also hated having to rapidly respond to a situation that could easily have been anticipated, but that was pretty much every day in the AOCC.

‘We thought there would be time to get everyone out, but the wind picked up and changed direction overnight,’ I said.

’Righto—got it. I’ll get back to you in 30,’ said Yan.

‘Thanks, mate,’ I said, ‘I’ll send the formal request shortly.

By the time Sam and I drafted the request it was time for the update from the Papua New Guinea (PNG) team. I waited for the satellite link-up with Alex, our ADF liaison deployed to PNG in the Chinese shipping hub as the security lead and overall second-in-charge for the Australian contingent there. He was always late, so I figured he was working on his usual ‘island time’. In typical Alex fashion, he would probably then blame the Chinese for being late with their own updates. Since the US withdrawal from the region, Australia regularly cooperated with China to secure our sea lanes from the threat of the emboldened Earth Liberation Front (ELF) and other eco-terrorists.^[x] In the past three years, ELF sank seven bulk fuel and coal shipments, correctly assessing that fossil fuels couldn't contribute to atmospheric CO2 levels from the bottom of the ocean.

My ServicePal beeped with Alex’s connection, but it was only a voice feed.

‘Finally! It’s about time, mate. What have you got for me?’ I said.

I heard Alex take a deep breath and then pause. My stomach dropped. Alex was never at a loss for words.

‘We’ve lost comms with the security escort to Australian Import 22B trade convoy. It was scheduled to return to Lae 10 minutes ago. The team are scanning through the satellite feeds now for a visual. The Chinese have launched a LOCUST drone swarm to get a closer look, but we don’t have access to that feed.^[xi] We’re hoping that it’s just another cyber-attack on the comms.’

‘But?’ I asked, heart in my mouth.

‘But none of the signs point to that right now.’

His voice didn’t falter, but I could feel the suppressed panic about his team's whereabouts over the line. It made my own anxieties, and my nightly recurring dream, resurface as I thought about the responsibility he would feel as the Commander.^[xii] In moments like this all I could think of was my fiancée trying to rescue people from floodwaters. A dam wall had broken, sweeping her Lighter Amphibious Resupply Cargo - 5 Ton vehicle (LARC-V) and its crew away. The headquarters knew there was a risk of that dam breaking, and in the ops room now trying to help Alex, I understood just how responsible they must have felt.

‘Alex, I can get additional ISR feeds going, alert standby search and rescue teams and get the intelligence crew to review the threats on your convoy route. Can you send the location of their last comms with you? What else do you need?’

‘Thanks Kim, that'd be great. Sorry, I have to go. A rep from FreeSoul is on the line and they might have better info. I'll send more SITREPs ASAP,’ Alex said.

I jumped when Jay Goldwick appeared behind me.

‘Kim, I just heard the last of that transmission. You OK? You looked like you were frozen for a moment there.’

‘I’m fine,’ I blurted back, slightly too fast. Dammit, I must have been distracted for longer than I thought.

‘Happy with the plan I heard. Get after it,’ Jay instructed as he left for the PR Office and inevitable media management.

I worked on the support to Alex along with Sam until the call came through from Yan with an update for the water-bomb aircraft request.

‘Kim, we can do it but it won’t be there for 12 hours. They already started maintenance, so they have to put the aircraft back together and perform safety checks.’

‘Yan, that’s great—thanks. I’ll send through the coordination details ASAP.’

Grateful that the ADF could help buy time for Lilydale to evacuate, I relayed the information through Dee for the Victorian task force, and started drafting the orders and getting contract management onto taking over from them. I was interrupted by Sam as she pointed to her ServicePal, indicating that Alex’s updates had come through.

‘Sir, they’ve been able to locate one of the six supply vessels so far. It’s moved to the nearest emergency RV in a safe harbour, but the private security vessels escorting them don’t appear to be with them,’ Alex said in his message.

I brought up the map and pointed to the blue dot between the two islands. ‘The last comms were at 0415 this morning from this location,’ I pointed again to the north into an open lane, ‘and the search and rescue teams are interrogating surveillance between that loc and the safe harbour now, getting ready to move.’

‘Shit,’ came the sharp response from behind me. Jay had startled me for the second time in 10 minutes. ‘Get JOC on the line.’

I called my JOC counterpart, who informed me that they'd also just been told to call us. Something was going on. I watched Jay nod his head through what was clearly a one-way conversation. Before he'd even removed the headset, he calmly and deliberately announced: ‘Initiate SOP 1-4 handoff with JOC in Area of Responsibility (AOR) 2, we have reason to believe that actors beyond the AOCC remit might be involved with what’s going on in PNG.’

We trained for these scenarios as if they were real, only finding out after the fact if they weren’t. The 1-series of SOPs were reserved for national security matters and meant the ADF assumed command and control responsibility of a task from the AOCC. 1-4 meant that this was considered the fourth-highest level of national strategic risk, with 1-1 being an imminent or actual military attack against Australia. Jay flicked his head towards me in a way that indicated my presence was required away from the desk.

‘Look,’ Jay said, ‘this is turning into a security situation and the mission is likely to be removed from us. The best thing we can do is hand everything we know to JOC ASAP and support them with no questions asked. They’ve already got Loyal Wingman and multiple sub-surface assets in play and have priority on all Australis Scope feeds. If loss of the sat feed affects our domestic tasks then let me know, but let’s start finding alternative solutions.’

As he paused to take a breath, I sensed this was going to get worse. ‘It appears that JOC already knew something might be amiss in relation to the convoy, but they wouldn’t say why.’ Jay had just posted in from JOC two months ago, so I trusted his assessment when he said it might have something to do with ‘test’ missile launches and associated ‘war games’ by our friends in the north.

His body language indicated he needed to go, but not before looking me in the eye in his characteristically intense way and saying: ‘I need you to keep everyone focused, whatever happens; remember that this is why the ADF exists—to fight for Australia when the time comes. But AOCC’s job right now is to keep the fire burning on the home front, dammit ... stop the fires burning … you know what I mean.’

‘Yes Sir,’ I replied as he left.

Thanks to the seventh-gen national communication system that allowed all-of-government and all-classification sharing, the SOP 1-4 handoff was immediate.

‘Kim, digital regrouping of assets in AOR2 is ready,’ Sam stated without taking a breath. ‘Loc and log states confirmed, pers state validated. ISR, Satellite and S&R tasks packaged for transfer.’

Sam knew this SOP well, as we all did. Then … nothing.

‘Sam, what’s happening?’ I asked, still waiting for the anticipated ‘handshake with JOC complete’.

‘I don't know,’ Sam said. ‘System health green, data connectivity green, network integrity, gre …’

Berrrp … Berrrrp … Berrrp …

A blaring alert interrupted Sam.

‘Shit—network integrity amber!’ Sam exclaimed. ‘Handshake with JOC failed, CHOP aborted,’ he said, referring to the Command Hand Over Procedure.

The shrieking alarms quickly silenced, leaving pulsing amber lights to warn of the network compromise.^[xiii]

‘I don't like this,’ Sam muttered as she glanced at the incident timer. ‘Three minutes after we commence SOP 1-4 for Alex's convoy and we lose network integrity and can't transfer command of AOR2 to JOC?’

The gravity of Sam's comment made my pulse race.

I patched into Sam’s conversation with JOC as they relayed the problem from the harassed IT team ‘... have disrupted your network,’ I heard the soothing voice state. ‘We are initiating SOP1-4D and have commenced manual transfer of C2. Digital regrouping will follow once network integrity has been re-established with your control centre.’

I made eye contact with Sam and nodded that I was following the traffic.

‘Acknowledged—Loc and log states confirmed, pers states validated. ISR, Satellite and S&R tasks ready for transfer,’ Sam said, completing the SO P1-4 with JOC. ‘Happy hunting,’ Sam finished, breaking with protocol but keeping with tradition when the procedure was finally completed. ‘Thanks ...’ came the reply, then a pause. ‘We’re watching the situation … we all know someone down there,’ the voice responded, then paused. ‘Good luck.’ She disconnected, and the amber lights flashed white, indicating an imminent network reset.

Sam pulled off her ServicePal headset and motioned for me to do the same so we could talk in private. ‘This feels like the beginning of another 10/30 to me. At this rate we’ll still be dealing with the fire season when the floods start.’^[xiv]I felt my heart stop at the thought. My mind started racing, making connections between Lilydale, Alex, Jamie, the Royal Commission, and Mum’s warnings. Remembering my breathing techniques, I put my headset back on, nodded to Sam to do the same.

‘The network will be green again in 5. Let’s make sure we complete the digital regrouping ASAP. Keep a listening watch on JOC’s channels over AOR2,’ I directed firmly.

‘Roger. I don’t expect we’ll get much, SOP 1-4 has JOC communicating with Quantum cryptography following the CHOP,’ Sam replied. I didn't expect much either, only I found the thought that I could help Alex—if only I could hear him calling for help—comforting.

‘Kim!’ Dee called from the other side of the room. I looked up to see her gesturing for me to join her in the domestic cell. ‘Commissioner Lee is about to give an unscheduled update on the situation in Victoria.’ I patched in as Commissioner Lee stood in front of a nearly empty conference room.

‘We’ve evacuated about 30 percent of Lilydale, and the northern parts will be complete in the next three hours. Some of the roads are becoming parking lots with all the traffic trying to get out, and the spot fires have started another front to the west in the national park, threatening the northern route out. Police are working on sorting out the roads and we’ve got water bombing started. The assessment is another six hours before it hits north Lilydale, so we’ll have people evacuating around the firefighters. I think we’ll make it in time for people to get out, but the town may go up.’

I should have felt dejected at the meeting’s outcome, but I was reassured everyone would get out. Only another five hours before the RAAF aircraft would begin its water bombing runs. I left the meeting thinking of that small victory and how I wanted nothing more than to get back to Ozol. But first I had an important stop to make.

End of Shift - Australian Operations Coordination Centre, 23 October 2040

Realising the time, I started jogging to catch the Anzac Parade bus, hoping to get to the memorial before sunset. I had to visit today. On the way, I finally listened to the message from Mum.

‘Hi Kim ... We’re all thinking about you today. Not just because of the fires down here, or the storms on the coast up north ... But because as busy as things are here for us, it must be nothing compared to what you are dealing with. I remember 10 years ago when we used to stress and complain about fires and floods, but it's only gotten worse since then, and now I regret that we didn’t do more to change. I’m sorry for how it’s turned out … for you … for Jamie … you know how much we all loved her. But as the saying goes, ‘you can't go back and change the beginning, but you can start where you are and change the ending’… I’m really proud of you and want you to know that we all miss you. Love you and hope Ozol can give you a big snuggle today—talk soon.”

I got off the bus in auto-pilot mode, following the same route I did every time I came to the memorial. Yet this day was special. It marked the 10-year anniversary.

I stopped before the sculpture of a wattle tree, standing 20 metres tall to signify Australia's resilience. It was made from scraps of equipment lost in 10/30. At the base of the tree, I ran my hand across a book-sized piece of Jamie’s LARC-V. The cold and twisted metal represented my feelings towards the past as much as the actual events of the past. I stood watching as the lights bounced off the reflective surfaces of the memorial, highlighting the names of all the civilians and military personnel we lost.

I stepped forward to place a sprig of living wattle next to her name. I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn't hear someone step up beside me until they spoke. ‘We all knew someone involved.’ Her voice was soothing and her appearance familiar, but her identity was just out of reach. I turned to study the woman’s face, framed by a bright tartan scarf bearing all the oranges and golds of a sunset. Then I noticed a crimson woollen coat tucked into her handbag. It was the woman from this morning's bus.

I blinked away hot tears as I looked back to Jamie’s name.

‘Yep,’ I responded. ‘We sure did.’

She stepped up and placed her own wattle against a name just above Jamie’s: Major Humphrey White, listed under Victorian Fires. I knew then how he must have gone. Lilydale had burned in 2030, and we had lost Defence members caught between two fire fronts.

This morning’s bus conversation now made sense. Of course her son wanted to do a HADR role. He must have been eight when his father died. I felt awful for how I’d avoided the conversation. Noticing my discomfort, she pointed to the paths behind the memorial.

‘Humphs and I used to roll the pram and walk our dog on those paths before this was here,’ she said. She looked back at the fresh golden wattle, a symbol of life, now placed next to his name. ‘I still walk these paths.’

I remembered the first time Jamie and I took Ozol to walk The Strand in Townsville. I felt my mood lighten, and a hint of a smile creased my lips as I said, ‘Jamie and I used to take Ozol, our pup, for walks along the beach in North Queensland before all of this. God, she still loves nothing more than a good swim and to chase anything that runs.’

The stranger's face lit up. ‘What kind of dog do you have?!’ she asked.

‘A big old Golden Retriever,’ I replied. ‘We got Ozol from the Townsville pound as a puppy—not realising she would have the energy of 10 dogs,’ I chuckled. It had been so long since I had thought about Jamie and been able to smile. ‘She’s all that I have left of her,’ I said matter-of-factly.

‘I understand. We had our own golden girl, a Labrador called Milly. She died a few years ago and I miss her dearly,’ she said.

‘I’ve only just moved back here and don’t know many tracks that Ozol would be welcome on,’ I said. ‘Perhaps you could show us sometime?’

My offer was genuine, but it surprised me that I would open up to a stranger.

She paused before responding. ‘I would like that very much. Same time tomorrow?’

I nodded, and the approaching bus reminded me that I had to get back to Ozol.

‘I’ve got to go, sorry,’ I said.

‘Of course,’ she replied. ‘My name’s Giai.’

I immediately felt embarrassed and turned back. ‘Sorry Giai, a pleasure to meet you. My name’s Kim,’ I said as I held out my hand. She returned my handshake before I ran off to the bus.

I made it home to a very excited Ozol before calling Mum back. It rang through to her message bank. ‘Tag,’ I joked, then left a message:

‘Hey Mum, thanks for your call. I’m doing OK. I still miss her every day … and the dreams ... I just ... It's OK.’ I paused, lost for words for the second time today. Quickly changing the subject, I piped back up, ‘and you’re right, things are getting busy again, but they are different now. We’re all more prepared … oh … and please never apologise for the rants, I know there’s always a pearl of wisdom in there for me. What is it you used to tell us? Few will have the greatness to bend history, but each of us can work to change a small portion of it. I think I’m realising it’s not about being the strongest, or the most intelligent, but about being the most responsive to change. Look, I know we can’t go back to 2020 and change today’s world (although I wish I could), but if we continue to make the changes I’m seeing at work, I’m starting to think we really will stand a better shot in the future ... anyway Mum ... sorry for my own rant. I love you too.’

I was exhausted, and fought the urge to distract myself from sleep with the endless news cycle. I dragged myself into the bedroom and sank under the covers, squeezing under Ozol’s big head. I dreaded the recurring dream, but eventually fell asleep.

In my dream I was back in Townsville, standing on the flax-gold beach, watching the sun’s cylinders of light flicker across the sea onto the hazy silhouette of Magnetic Island. I wriggled my toes in the warm floury sand, and looked down to see a puppy, Ozol, rolling around beneath me. I shifted my gaze further, and saw Jamie standing at the water's edge, the sea gently lapping her bare feet. She was far enough away that I couldn't make out her words, but close enough for me to feel the warmth in her smile. She beckoned back to Ozol and I, blew us a kiss and waved as if to say goodbye. She took one final step further away from me and dove into the calm, beautiful, turquoise water. For the first time in a long time, I slept.