The Rain Circle, page 11
‘Let me help,’ Bernadette says, picking up a tea towel. ‘No, I’m not going over tonight. I’d like a quiet night with you.’
The idea of a quiet night together is fine yet May sees the words as highlighting her separation from the serious business and asks why she and Patrick have to be on the outer. Not invited when matters of forecasting and rainmaking technology are discussed.
‘I don’t need to know all the secrets. It’d just be nice for me and Patrick to be included a bit more.’
‘Patrick and me,’ corrects Bernadette.
‘Okay Mum. You’re not listening, so let’s forget it.’
Bernadette regrets her grammar correction interruption and lying in bed that night is in deep thought about how much has happened in a short time. They came to Buckleboo largely for May’s sake and now a major project looms and her daughter is right. There is a distraction that is divisive. On the positive side May seems to be enjoying country life, the excitement around farm stay has been a fillip and while there are mother’s worries about motorcycle riding there are also dangers with truancy and skateboarding on railway tracks. It is decided to contact everyone in the morning and invite them to a shearers’ dinner at the long table. It’ll be roast beef with lots of roast vegetables, peas, and onion and mushroom gravy. Once lured to the table, Bernadette will tell her daughter, there’ll be an open discussion about the rainmaking project.
The dinner idea goes down well with May, appreciating the fact that her mother has given thought to her view that she and Patrick have been alienated. She suggests they get some wine and beer when they go shopping in Kimba, and her mother agrees with a warning they are best not to make it a boozy night.
‘Yeah, I know, clearer heads and less bullshit, especially from Patrick,’ says May.
‘Thought you liked him,’ Bernadette responds, refraining from objection to bullshit.
‘Of course I do. He’s my mate, but this doesn’t mean he can’t be an idiot.’
‘Idiot?’
‘Well, you know Mum. You’d be the first to tell me to stop the histrionics or whatever you call it if I carried on like he did in the sheep yards a couple of weeks ago. Remember how you’d say things like Oh May, stop the histrionics or Oh May don’t do the theatrics. Patrick letting it go in the sheep yards was a bit dramatic wasn’t it? He’s got every right to be pissed off about being kept in the dark and seeing Christian suck up to his father. Christian does think he’s a class above everyone I reckon. But Patrick did go over the top a bit.’
Without saying it, Bernadette knows her daughter’s past behavior is different, having good reason for dark moments, anger and rebellion. Patrick is probably just one of those people who likes to be expressive at both ends of the emotional scale. As for the ‘class above’ comment, she has often thought classes are not always stacked above and below. They can be placed sideways. Christian is a different character type and is from another circle of society. That’s all it is. Contact with him tells her that he is sometimes removed but not aloof. Nonetheless, tonight’s dinner has a purpose and the very sharing of a meal sitting on bench seats at the long table may improve relationships.
Early evening turns cold enough for Bernadette to suggest an open wood fire to enhance the atmosphere. But their greatest concern should not be the social atmosphere but the big one surrounding Earth, May advises. Patrick has told her that bushfires and household wood fires contribute a lot to greenhouse gases. But she is encouraged by her mother to at least give Patrick a call and ask his permission for just this time.
‘Sure, once in a while is not a problem,’ Patrick answers with a smile, happy to know he’s imparting some knowledge. ‘There’s a stack of chopped wood under the rainwater tank stand. Hey what’s this dinner about anyway? Someone’s birthday?’
‘Nah. Just dinner.’
The dinner itself goes well. Nothing left on the plates and the selection of wine pleases everyone. Sitting at one end of the table with Brian and Patrick on one side and Christian and May on the other gives Bernadette a fitting chairperson sense when she suggests an open discussion about the rainmaking project. There is silence to start with. Christian drops his head, looking nervous. Patrick seems to roll his eyes as he draws his arms into a folded position like a closed gate. Suddenly May breathes life into the room, stating that she has a question.
‘If this is such a good idea, this rainmaking thing you’re planning, why is it a secret? Mum, that’s for you, Ellson senior and Christian.’
‘Well, it’s not really a secret,’ Brian offers in a tone not entirely convincing. ‘The project people just want to make sure it happens without any catches.’
‘Catches? What catches can there be Dad?’ Patrick asks sternly, unfolding his arms.
‘Well I suppose they don’t want the idea sabotaged or the media getting in the way.’
‘It’s not they Dad. You’re part of it. You should say we shouldn’t you?’
‘Very well. That’s a good point Patrick. We’ve probably been a bit over-cautious about signaling what’s going to happen. But once it’s happened there’ll be a lot of positives. People around the world will welcome with open arms the prospect of virtually getting rain on demand.’
‘People around the world? People around the bloody world? I’m one of those Dad and I haven’t been asked if I approve of a nuclear-powered rainmaking machine off our coast. Have you even asked whether this is lawful or not?’
Christian chips in with the opinion that if one has to ask for permission for everything new to happen then no progress will be made. Good ideas can be stopped altogether or at least delayed far too long. And global warming needs action that makes a difference right now.
‘Wasn’t talking to you sunshine,’ Patrick says rudely, and loudly. ‘I’ll come to you in a minute. Now you know Dad that you can pull out of this right now. So can you Bernadette. This blow-in from Finland can go home. Before the whole thing comes tumbling down. Not the rain. The fallout from your involvement in something that may be dangerous. Even if it isn’t a total disaster there’ll be coppers banging on the door and those over-zealous environmental protection people wanting to destroy you.’
‘I can understand how you feel Patrick,’ Bernadette intrudes to calm the situation. ‘We need to give you a lot more information and sit down to talk through ….’
‘Stop. Stop. Stop,’ Patrick exclaims, slapping an open hand onto the table. ‘It’s not a matter of you having to talk me into it. The point is, whatever you’re doing there are the right channels. I don’t agree with disobeying the law even though I’ve done it myself, I’m afraid to say. But this thing seems big. Very big and very unlawful.’
‘Actually it isn’t clear the project will be breaking any specific laws at all,’ Brian interrupts.
‘Okay Dad. Which Australian authorities have your mob approached? It’s a legitimate question. Come on old man. Have you got an answer? Come on. Can’t be hard.’
There is no response to the question.
‘That’s what I expected. None. And here’s a question for you Finn man. Bit of not in my backyard shit is it? Don’t want the thing to blow up in the Baltic, so you go to the southern hemisphere to do your testing? How convenient. How fucking convenient! Sorry for my language May.’
‘I feel the same Patrick, you’re doin’ good, brother,’ May says. ‘Don’t hold back. They’re not like us. We’re being used.’
‘It is not like that,’ Christian replies. ‘This is the ideal region to demonstrate the power of our rainmaking system. Sure, the Baltic Sea is a possibility but here we have the potential to create a large food bowl for the world. You have to maximise the impact when you first demonstrate something.’
‘If it’s so great, don’t hide it.’
‘We are only being discreet in the lead up. Imagine the hurdles to jump and fears to overcome if we took the regular pathways. The world can’t afford solutions like this to be delayed for what could be decades. Once it happens, though, we want the whole world to know.’
Eventually the fire in the conversation dies down when it becomes apparent that Brian and Bernadette will not or can’t pull out now. Patrick can’t help thinking that, while locked in, his father and Bernadette show in their faces that they are not completely relaxed about it all. Maybe Christian’s confidence keeps them on track.
‘I know there’ll be a successful demonstration of the system, which will work a bit like a cyclone, beginning with a volume of warm sea and generation of energy,’ Christian explains. ‘A circular motion spins high into the air, drawing in moisture from a wider area. With our technology, however, we’ll not have the damaging wind of a cyclone and there’ll be emphasis on creation of rain.’
‘But how does rain form?’ May asks. ‘Mum’s told me how it happens naturally but how does your system make it?’
‘She’s probably told you about warm, moist, air rising then cooling,’ Christian says. “Tiny droplets of water congregate to form clouds and rain will fall when the clouds are heavy with moisture, particularly when there are sufficient condensation nuclei. Our system copies nature, creating the warm seawater, generating a rising column of moisture-laden air and even providing the condensation nuclei in the form of tiny particles of salt that are taken out of solution.’
Brian adds that these nuclei are what cloud-seeding was based on and how his grandfather told him about CSIRO experiments using light planes to spread silver oxide dust through clouds. But this is better because you don’t need clouds in the first place.
‘Let’s go to the other end of the process,’ Patrick suggests. ‘How do you get the warm volume of water moving?’
‘Imagine one of those wire baskets for deep-frying chip potatoes,’ Christian answers with fingers drawing a picture in the air. ‘The deep fryer wires are the network of tubes held at the bottom by concrete blocks and at the open top by fixing to a circle of tube that is inflated. Through this structure a controlled nuclear reaction will drive motors that create a force of air and trigger the heating and movement of water.’
A grunt of disapproval comes from Patrick, who refolds his arms and shakes his head.
‘Your deep fryer analogy’s spot on,’ he says. ‘There’ll be fried fish washing up on the beach for hundreds of kilometres.’
A description by Christian of fishing boats employed as part of the project to scoop up any dead fish and take them to a fertiliser plant in Port Lincoln does not go down well.
‘All under cover of course,’ Patrick suggests. ‘Again, deception. Something I don’t like.’
May cuts in quickly saying what she doesn’t like is the killing of sea life.
‘I can’t believe you don’t care about killing innocent creatures!’ she says, directing her comments at her mother.
‘Of course we care May,’ Bernadette responds. ‘It is something I put to the others when I first got involved. You know I wouldn’t want to be part of something destructive, but we have to see the bigger picture.’
‘Mum, you are part of something destructive. Accept it.’
Christian feels he must rescue Bernadette, admitting the negative effect on marine life is destructive while asking for the constructive components to be considered. Reliable rainfall, food security and better health are listed. Inclusion of better health is queried by a frowning Patrick, who is told that apart from food quality improving there can be a dramatic reduction in deaths around the world caused by heat stroke and exhaustion. Annual deaths from high temperatures caused by climate change have risen by more than 60 per cent since 2025. If technology is developed to not only produce rain but also modify temperature, a real difference can be made.
Another frown crosses Patrick’s face as he notices Christian appearing to experience pain while talking. There’s also breathlessness when talking for any length of time. Although there is discomfort, Christian continues so a final point can be made for his side of the debate. He makes eye contact with May and then across to Patrick, quietly comparing a few thousand fish dying from a temperature rise with the many more thousands of people dying each year right now from climate change. It may not be the best choice of words considering use of the term for civilian casualties in war but he describes the marine life consequences as collateral damage.
~~~~
It is 6.30am on Monday August 18 and May is using early morning light to find some extra wire netting to cover holes in the newly-constructed henhouse which is awaiting arrival of its first residents. The search is taking place in the graveyard of unwanted things behind the harvester shed. A roll of old netting for cutting into pieces is found within a rusty mangle of tractors and cultivators silenced by the advancement of technology. It is tugged out with all her strength against resistance imposed by weeds growing through the mesh. Watching her, sitting on an empty plastic drum 20m away, is Christian.
‘Can I help you?’ he asks feebly.
‘Not in your state Finn man.’
‘Finn man?’ queries Christian, who quickly remembers the reference made by Patrick on the evening of the roast beef dinner. ‘You can call me that, I don’t mind, really.’
‘Why are you sitting out here?’
‘Mm, I like to feel the warmth of the sun as it comes up. It seems to soak in and makes me feel better.’
‘You’ve got cancer, haven’t you?’
‘Think you’re right. Anyway, I’ll know more after Port Lincoln.’
‘I’m going too. That’s why I’m getting some work done on the hen house. We’re picking up some hens from a breeder down there while you have your appointments.’
‘I thought Brian was driving me.’
‘Nup. It’s you, me and Patrick on the road trip. Makes better sense, Patrick said, if we’ve got things to do.’
May is looking up to the north-eastern sky while the travel arrangements are given, including a departure time of 10am to make the first appointment at the clinic in the afternoon. She is fixed on what she thinks is a star, shining more brightly than the city atmosphere allows.
‘What star is that Finn man?’
‘It is not a star like our sun May, even though it is called the morning star,’ he answers, standing and walking closer. ‘It’s also called the evening star because it’s bright in the evening, but it is Venus, the first planet between us and the sun. The brightness is reflection from our sun.’
This is the first of several question and answer sessions between the two over the next few weeks, with topics ranging from why metals rust to how solar cells work. On the drive to Port Lincoln while passing paddocks of green crops, for instance, May asks why crops are green and is given an explanation of the role of the green pigment chlorophyll in photosynthesis. She’s always known plants are important for the environment but now understands that, opposite to people, plants absorb carbon dioxide and release oxygen. A kind of balance between people and plants, she figures.
‘There’ll be a lot more green around when the world accepts our rainmaking system,’ Christian says.
Patrick is concentrating on the road and not saying much until May cheekily asks him if his father and her mother have something going on. He says he doesn’t think so. They just get on well together. And if they were in a relationship it wouldn’t be anyone else’s business anyway.
‘You know some people think we’re in a relationship Patrick?’ she teases.
‘Don’t be stupid. Don’t say things like that.’
‘At Country Fire Service training I’ve heard some of your mates call me your little girlfriend.’
‘They’re dickheads. Not what you’d call mates. They shouldn’t talk like that anyway. Ignore ‘em.’
‘Don’t worry. You’re too old for me, brother. And what about you Christian, do you have a girlfriend?’
‘Yes, I have a partner.’
‘Her name?’
‘Inka.’
‘Nice name. Let’s have a look at her. Let’s see some pictures.’
Images on his phone are willingly shared and May gasps, saying she’s beautiful. Christian says he thinks so too and that he misses her company.
‘Tell her to come to Buckleboo and stay with us!’
Christian is not sure Inka will want to see him again but says she may be able to visit one day since she is in Australia undertaking a study of Aboriginal rock carvings. Her work interests Patrick and May, creating a discussion that lasts until they stop for lunch at Cummins. The bakery in this small rural town makes some of the best meat pies on Eyre Peninsula.
‘If you’ve not eaten an Aussie meat pie Christian I can tell you you’re in for a treat,’ Patrick advises, casting his eyes over the frame of the Finnish scientist as he realises they may be in for some bad news from the specialist.
The three open their paper bags sitting at a roadside rest stop table and Patrick gives a lesson in pie appreciation. It is a bit like a master class in wine tasting.
‘It’s got to smell like you want to scoff it,’ Patrick says, watching Christian holding his pie in both hands and wanting to obediently gobble it in quick time.
Christian’s mouth is open and about to attack the pie but is halted when Patrick says that while you may want to eat it right away, you have to first breathe in the mingling aromas of pastry, meat and gravy.
‘Now you can start. Feel the crackle of layers of flaky pastry through your top teeth and the crunch of your bottom teeth through the shortcrust pastry base of your pie. Sandwiched in between are fine granules of lean minced meat swimming in tasty gravy that’s got some spices but not enough to overpower the taste of real meat. Pastry and filling connect in a perfect marriage. Nothing better.’
By now Patrick’s eyes are closed while those of May and Christian are wide open, amazed at the description and how Patrick seems to be in another world as he chews and swallows his first mouthful, putting his head slightly backwards. As soon as the first mouthful has descended through his gullet, the pie class master straightens, opens his eyes and asks why his students are not eating. Please eat, he urges.
