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Wednesday 18 December 2013

Mommy please don't let me die.

I live just 110 km from the crippled nuclear power station in Japan.

Last summer, I decided to visit the town of Minamisoma, which is about 24 km from the nuclear plant – half the town is a no-go zone.

I left my house early, driving through the paddy fields where the farmers were harvesting the rice – a telltale sign that the unbearable summer heat would soon flee and a much more pleasant autumn would take its place.

I drove through villages that had been evacuated.  The once fertile farmland was now 
lined with blue sacks, filled with radioactive topsoil that had been removed in the naive hope of decontaminating the area.

I visited the house of one of the town politicians.  He had evacuated his wife and two daughters to another prefecture and was living alone.

“How bad is it?” I asked.

“We are living in a nuclear nightmare,” he replied.

“What is the government doing about it?”

He looked at me a long moment and then shrugged. “Not much ... it’s still spewing out 10,000,000Bq of radiation every hour, everyday.  Best we go indoors."

Later he took me to the house of an old couple.  They had prepared a beautiful lunch – fish, rice, salad and fruit.  I thought it rude to ask where it came from – so I didn’t.

After lunch I had a chance to ask a few questions.

“Do you feel the government and Power Company are compensating you adequately?”

“No at all!" the wife snapped.

“Calm down!” her husband said.

“What do you mean?" she said, glaring at him.  “People have a right to know what's really happening!"

A tense silence followed.

“She’s right,' her husband sighed at last.  “We've been abandoned.”

“Worse than that,' his wife added.  "We're being treated like damn guinea pigs!”

“Why don’t you leave?” I asked.

"We've got nowhere to go.  We've lived here all our lives.  We're farmers.  The land is our lifeblood."

“Has the decontamination work been effective?” I asked.

“No!  They take off the topsoil and the wind blows in more.  I've not had a good night’s sleep since the accident.  The power station is just over the hill.  It could release 30 times more radiation than Chernobyl.”

She slid the door open and a hot breeze blew in.

“The Number Four reactor building is badly damaged," she said, pointing in the direction.  "It’s leaning to the side.  Engineers say it will collapse if there is another 6.5 quake.  And then the spent fuel pool will drain and catch fire.”

I felt a sense of panic.  “Are you kidding?”

“No,"

“What are they doing about it?”

“Not much,” her husband said.  "They lie continuously - try to tell us no one has died.  People are dying of leukaemia, heart disease and lung cancer.  60 % of the kids have lumps in their thyroids. I'll show you."

We went to a  neighbour's house.

A couple, in their mid-thirties, bowed politely and ushered me into a small bedroom where their teenage daughter sat next to a bed stroking her younger sister’s bald head.

“Cancer,” said the mother.

I moved closer and saw a frail body – no more than skeleton covered by skin.  Next to her bed was a pencil sketch of hills and flowers – a spring scene I guessed – at the top was written, Mommy Don’t Let Me Die.

“She’s sleeping,” said her sister.

We went back to the living room and sat there.

“I will never get married!” the sister blurted.  “No one will marry a girl from Fukushima!”

No one spoke.

“Even if I get married, I would never have a baby.  I would never put a child through what has happened to my sister.  Why doesn’t anyone do something about it?"

I left Minamisoma at sunset.  The sky was awash with the warm glow of dusk.  The hills were a vibrant green.  The countryside was so beautiful – but toxic with an invisible poison.

I’m back in Australia now – and you know what?

I feel guilty! I feel like I've abandoned the kids of Fukushima.

But yesterday my Christmases wish came true - I received an email saying that the girl who'd had cancer is recovering and is expected to fully recover.

I'm going back in March to see if there is anything I can do.  As an individual, I can't do much.  But individual contributions add up and I'll work on the principle that every little bit helps.

And now I am back in Japan! March 6th. 2014





Monday 11 March 2013

The Science Fiction thriller about Japan's earthquake, tsunami and nuclear disaster


I arrived at the Brink Space Station very tired from too much ‘G’ – too much continuous thruster burn. Yes, I am on the run again, but that’s a story for another day.

The Brink is infested with nice types – pirate, thieves, smugglers, whores and whoever else has the guts to dock. Why would anyone come here? The station is old; a donut tube around a mid-shaft – the kind you used to see in the old Japanese SF movies. But what makes this place so hostile is that it orbits a dead planet in a solar system that is being slowly sucked into a black hole.

I head to the bar; a dim, tacky place – smoky with a square counter and two pool tables; walls festooned with alien females of all sorts. I pull up a stool and a pretty young girl dressed in a kimono says. “Want you drink?”

I nod. “A beer.”

“Beer! No! No! No!

I can clearly see that she not all quite there. “A whisky.”

She smiles and then bows. “Right coming up!”

I survey the bar. Two men are mingled around the pool table drinking while three women; whores I guess are lying naked on the table. One of the men hands the other a pouch, snaps his fingers and the two girls jump off the table and follow him out. At the far end of the counter a group of men, can’t tell what solar system they’re from, are engrossed in what I can only guess is Russian roulette.

The pretty young girl brings my whisky back and smiles. “You here are.”

“You okay?” I ask.

“They make me when, they forget something put in,” she replies, smiling.

“Android?”

She shakes her head furiously. “No! Half…half only!”

I smile my understanding, or perhaps it is my sympathy.

“Can I get another god damn drink!” shouts a man.

She bows and goes to serve him.

I pick up my glass and spill it over myself as the gun booms through the bar. “Damn!” I swear. Then the bar erupts with laughter. I look at the man, half his head blown off, lying on the floor. I wipe my pants dry with a napkin and take a long hard swig. It’s then my peripheral vision picks up the man staring at me out of the shadows from the corner of the bar. I take another swig and then stare back at him. His face is familiar, but I can’t place him.

“Prepare for inclusion in twenty seconds,” blares the ship’s intercom.

“Damn!” I curse. I just got here. And whoever came up with the ridiculous name inclusion. Inclusion as they called it is when the orbit of the station scrapes the fringe of the black hole – just for a minute or so. What would happen was anyone’s guess.

Everyone braces themselves. Almost at once the counter begin to shake and the hull groans as if the metal is twisting apart. The room begins to spin and I grip the counter hard to stop myself from falling. Then it stops. I look at the two of men at the end of the counter. Behind them is another dimension, but the taller of the two is in both dimensions. He opens a door; the light splays across the floor. He steps in and a woman in bed rolls back the covers; he begins to undress.

There’s a flash and another dimension appears with the shorter man. He is crouching over a metal box stuffing something into his pockets.

Flash again, and I turn to see the man in the corner rise from the shadows and head for the door. But behind him is another dimension. What I see him do makes a chill run down my spine. Fuck! It almost makes me piss in my pants. Suddenly he stops, I mean the real figure, and glares at me.

The bar begins to spin again and I cling to the counter.

It stops and everyone stands there in silence.

“You did my wife you dirty scum!” shouted the shorter of the men at the end of the bar.

“Fuck you!” said the other man drawing his gun. “You stole from me!” He pulled the trigger and the shorter man’s chest explodes – the man stumbles back a few steps and then crumples to the floor in a pool of scarlet.

Then I realized what’s happened. The inclusion had let every one see into the others’ minds – the parts we try so much to keep secret from others. I draw my gun and swing around – the counter next to me blows to pieces. I dive to the floor shooting wildly in the direction of the attack. The stool next to me erupts into splinters. I roll frantically to the side, lasers exploding around me. I raised my gun and let go hailstorm of lasers, but he is gone – the door swings slowly shut.

I get up and brush myself down.

“Bad he man,” says the young girl, surfacing from behind the counter.

I nod and holster my gun. And then a chill runs down my back. The nuclear power plant in Fukushima. He’s going to –

“Drink one more?” asks the young girl.

I nod.

Just those little dark secrets we all have, the ones we try to conceal even from our loved ones.
To be continued…

I arrived at the Brink Space Station very tired from too much ‘G’ – too much continuous thruster burn. Yes, I am on the run again, but that’s a story for another day.

The Brink is infested with nice types – pirate, thieves, smugglers, whores and whoever else has the guts to dock. Why would anyone come here? The station is old; a donut tube around a mid-shaft – the kind you used to see in the old Japanese SF movies. But what makes this place so hostile is that it orbits a dead planet in a solar system that is being slowly sucked into a black hole.

I head to the bar; a dim, tacky place – smoky with a square counter and two pool tables; walls festooned with alien females of all sorts. I pull up a stool and a pretty young girl dressed in a kimono says. “Want you drink?”

I nod. “A beer.”

“Beer! No! No! No!

I can clearly see that she not all quite there. “A whisky.”

She smiles and then bows. “Right coming up!”

I survey the bar. Two men are mingled around the pool table drinking while three women; whores I guess are lying naked on the table. One of the men hands the other a pouch, snaps his fingers and the two girls jump off the table and follow him out. At the far end of the counter a group of men, can’t tell what solar system they’re from, are engrossed in what I can only guess is Russian roulette.

The pretty young girl brings my whisky back and smiles. “You here are.”

“You okay?” I ask.

“They make me when, they forget something put in,” she replies, smiling.

“Android?”

She shakes her head furiously. “No! Half…half only!”

I smile my understanding, or perhaps it is my sympathy.

“Can I get another god damn drink!” shouts a man.

She bows and goes to serve him.

I pick up my glass and spill it over myself as the gun booms through the bar. “Damn!” I swear. Then the bar erupts with laughter. I look at the man, half his head blown off, lying on the floor. I wipe my pants dry with a napkin and take a long hard swig. It’s then my peripheral vision picks up the man staring at me out of the shadows from the corner of the bar. I take another swig and then stare back at him. His face is familiar, but I can’t place him.

“Prepare for inclusion in twenty seconds,” blares the ship’s intercom.

“Damn!” I curse. I just got here. And whoever came up with the ridiculous name inclusion. Inclusion as they called it is when the orbit of the station scrapes the fringe of the black hole – just for a minute or so. What would happen was anyone’s guess.

Everyone braces themselves. Almost at once the counter begin to shake and the hull groans as if the metal is twisting apart. The room begins to spin and I grip the counter hard to stop myself from falling. Then it stops. I look at the two of men at the end of the counter. Behind them is another dimension, but the taller of the two is in both dimensions. He opens a door; the light splays across the floor. He steps in and a woman in bed rolls back the covers; he begins to undress.

There’s a flash and another dimension appears with the shorter man. He is crouching over a metal box stuffing something into his pockets.

Flash again, and I turn to see the man in the corner rise from the shadows and head for the door. But behind him is another dimension. What I see him do makes a chill run down my spine. Fuck! It almost makes me piss in my pants. Suddenly he stops, I mean the real figure, and glares at me.

The bar begins to spin again and I cling to the counter.

It stops and everyone stands there in silence.

“You did my wife you dirty scum!” shouted the shorter of the men at the end of the bar.

“Fuck you!” said the other man drawing his gun. “You stole from me!” He pulled the trigger and the shorter man’s chest explodes – the man stumbles back a few steps and then crumples to the floor in a pool of scarlet.

Then I realized what’s happened. The inclusion had let every one see into the others’ minds – the parts we try so much to keep secret from others. I draw my gun and swing around – the counter next to me blows to pieces. I dive to the floor shooting wildly in the direction of the attack. The stool next to me erupts into splinters. I roll frantically to the side, lasers exploding around me. I raised my gun and let go hailstorm of lasers, but he is gone – the door swings slowly shut.
I get up and brush myself down.

“Bad he man,” says the young girl, surfacing from behind the counter.

I nod and holster my gun. And then a chill runs down my back. The nuclear power plant in Fukushima. He’s going to –

“Drink one more?” asks the young girl.

I nod.

Just those little dark secrets we all have, the ones we try to conceal even from our loved ones.

I arrived at the Brink Space Station very tired from too much ‘G’ – too much continuous thruster burn. Yes, I am on the run again, but that’s a story for another day.

The Brink is infested with nice types – pirate, thieves, smugglers, whores and whoever else has the guts to dock. Why would anyone come here? The station is old; a donut tube around a mid-shaft – the kind you used to see in the old Japanese SF movies. But what makes this place so hostile is that it orbits a dead planet in a solar system that is being slowly sucked into a black hole.

I head to the bar; a dim, tacky place – smoky with a square counter and two pool tables; walls festooned with alien females of all sorts. I pull up a stool and a pretty young girl dressed in a kimono says. “Want you drink?”

I nod. “A beer.”

“Beer! No! No! No!

I can clearly see that she not all quite there. “A whisky.”

She smiles and then bows. “Right coming up!”

I survey the bar. Two men are mingled around the pool table drinking while three women; whores I guess are lying naked on the table. One of the men hands the other a pouch, snaps his fingers and the two girls jump off the table and follow him out. At the far end of the counter a group of men, can’t tell what solar system they’re from, are engrossed in what I can only guess is Russian roulette.

The pretty young girl brings my whisky back and smiles. “You here are.”

“You okay?” I ask.

“They make me when, they forget something put in,” she replies, smiling.

“Android?”

She shakes her head furiously. “No! Half…half only!”

I smile my understanding, or perhaps it is my sympathy.

“Can I get another god damn drink!” shouts a man.

She bows and goes to serve him.

I pick up my glass and spill it over myself as the gun booms through the bar. “Damn!” I swear. Then the bar erupts with laughter. I look at the man, half his head blown off, lying on the floor. I wipe my pants dry with a napkin and take a long hard swig. It’s then my peripheral vision picks up the man staring at me out of the shadows from the corner of the bar. I take another swig and then stare back at him. His face is familiar, but I can’t place him.

“Prepare for inclusion in twenty seconds,” blares the ship’s intercom.

“Damn!” I curse. I just got here. And whoever came up with the ridiculous name inclusion. Inclusion as they called it is when the orbit of the station scrapes the fringe of the black hole – just for a minute or so. What would happen was anyone’s guess.

Everyone braces themselves. Almost at once the counter begin to shake and the hull groans as if the metal is twisting apart. The room begins to spin and I grip the counter hard to stop myself from falling. Then it stops. I look at the two of men at the end of the counter. Behind them is another dimension, but the taller of the two is in both dimensions. He opens a door; the light splays across the floor. He steps in and a woman in bed rolls back the covers; he begins to undress.

There’s a flash and another dimension appears with the shorter man. He is crouching over a metal box stuffing something into his pockets.

Flash again, and I turn to see the man in the corner rise from the shadows and head for the door. But behind him is another dimension. What I see him do makes a chill run down my spine. Fuck! It almost makes me piss in my pants. Suddenly he stops, I mean the real figure, and glares at me.

The bar begins to spin again and I cling to the counter.

It stops and everyone stands there in silence.

“You did my wife you dirty scum!” shouted the shorter of the men at the end of the bar.

“Fuck you!” said the other man drawing his gun. “You stole from me!” He pulled the trigger and the shorter man’s chest explodes – the man stumbles back a few steps and then crumples to the floor in a pool of scarlet.

Then I realized what’s happened. The inclusion had let every one see into the others’ minds – the parts we try so much to keep secret from others. I draw my gun and swing around – the counter next to me blows to pieces. I dive to the floor shooting wildly in the direction of the attack. The stool next to me erupts into splinters. I roll frantically to the side, lasers exploding around me. I raised my gun and let go hailstorm of lasers, but he is gone – the door swings slowly shut.

I get up and brush myself down.

“Bad he man,” says the young girl, surfacing from behind the counter.

I nod and holster my gun. And then a chill runs down my back. The nuclear power plant in Fukushima. He’s going to –

“Drink one more?” asks the young girl.

I nod.

Just those little dark secrets we all have, the ones we try to conceal even from our loved ones.
To be continued…