“Somehow the aliens had escaped from their airforce gaolers, then set out to destroy the human race in retaliation for the illegal imprisonment of their parents — or parent!” wrote Will.   “Although no one was able to explain how the Mutes had got themselves from California to Melbourne, after the holocaust, once there were no planes.”   Will stopped writing for a moment to glance across at Debra again, causing her to immediately start mistyping once more.   But this time he had enough sense to return to his article before Debra looked up at him.

“I suppose I should mention that most people who survived everything else were eventually killed off when the first nuclear winter hit….”

Summer’s average daytime temperature (continued Will) plummeted from thirty-two degrees Celsius,

to about negative thirty-five degrees.   I hate to even mention what the first winter is like.   We’re all

rugged up like rejects from the Charleston era.

Not that it has hurt Debra’s looks much.   I keep telling her we ought to share our clothing so that we can take advantage of each others’ body heat, but, unfortunately Debra’s no dumb strawberry-blonde, as they used to say — more-or-less.

So, what is happening a year after the holocaust?   I can’t really claim Australia is back on its feet

yet, however, the media is starting to get back together.   There are nearly a hundred and fifty reporters distributing circulars around Australia (this figure doesn’t include the Hare Krishna, who seem to have survived the holocaust virtually unscathed, making us all wonder whether their God is the real one after all), although the OZ PRESS so far is the only regular newspaper in this country…okay, semi-regular.

Breeding for the second age of humanity has come along well in the first year, with most females — excluding Debra! — recognising the importance of their role as species regenerators.   Although some Women’s Libbers have revived their old motto: DOWN WITH TROUSERS!   UP WITH DRESSES!   Perhaps not realising the ambiguity of the slogan.

The Mutes are still a problem — when you go out for a quick bite, you don’t want to be bitten!   But we’ve managed to get their numbers down to about a thousand or so in Victoria, perhaps five thousand all told across Australia.

In a novel by H.G.Wells or Jules Verne, the Mutes would probably slowly die out from the effects of the nuclear winter.   In reality teams of Mute hunters (or Mute-aters, as they like to call themselves) have been using laser rifles, commandeered from the University of Melbourne, mounted on the backs of commandeered trucks to hunt out and destroy the Mutes.

We have private generators operating in some buildings, and there is already talk of the electricity being restored outside as well, at least for the trams and trains….

“As I hear the plane from the United States landing on the roof,” wrote Will, “I can see Debra shivering, having another of her soap opera withdrawal attacks.   I try my best to help, by assuring her that in another six months or so, we’ll have Prue-Ellen (or whoever) back on the idiot box saying, “Ah shucks!   That sure were a nice nuclear holocaust, weren’t it J.D.?” (Or whoever.)

THE END