Each camel had four legs and the hump, born impatient and unappreciative. They ran off in different directions, each in search of an oasis, wherein they might drink and stand in the shade beneath the date palms.
There were no date palms and no oases in sight. The camels sped up, kicking the dust up into rising clouds, that the crowds became invisible behind. Coughing was heard.
Where is Juno, said the BK, I can’t see a thing.
Juno is running late, all the doors opened and the passengers disembarked.
I thought Juno was a camel, said the BK.
Well, you thought wrong, Juno is the 8.15 to Paddington, stopping and starting at every watering hole west of everywhere and some in between, we won’t get any dates till Wednesday.
What is happening on Weds? I’ve got an appointment.
What isn’t happening? Babies bathed and off to school. Buses lined up in the appropriate lane, buildings opening and closing their swinging doors, workmen and women battling against crumbling facades? Cars, bicycles, rabbit holes, hedges, gardens, wheat growing noisily in the fields, proving their worth, becoming flour and then bread like magic, never touched by human, between here and there. It’s too intense and too complex, something has to give. Close a waterway somewhere all the way out and the whole system starts to tremble and quake. The mesh is heavily dependent, it was always going to break.
It was all a bit of a disaster really; you could see the wires holding it up and the supports were far too thin.
It’s all very well being global, but when competition for everything becomes too intense and every block is jostling for the same croissant, trouble is inevitable.
If you are rich, cutting yourself off seems attractive, but in this new, you cannot, we are all in it. They might send some chocolates to another ship, but it is only because of a birthday or similar celebration.
Take camels, for instance, are all united and yet all interdependent.
Biodiversity is a fine example. Don’t argue. I was just listening.
OK, said Sheba, So, how do we deal with this.
Is the answer anything to do with the asteroid belt, asked the BK.
Not this time, said Sheba, Fusion power alone might do it, renewables are a great halfway house, but we need a mighty energy, I wish they’d hurry up. Camels on a hamster wheel might help. Oil is a red herring, just one leg of a multi leaf table, it cannot support.
Where are the hamsters?
Taking a well-earned rest.
Energy helps with food as well, so just solve the energy thing now, right now!
A race against time, the clock is counting down, numbers on little white plates flicking over rhythmically to reveal the next second. The air is running out of the room, and the tide was coming into the harbour where all the nice people are chained to posts, but only their feet get wet.
The camel took a deep breath and dived down to where the exit had become blocked with upside down chairs and tables, the camel cleared and they all thanked him later.
They were all dancing when the ship turned over and the train fell off the bridge, the supporting wires of the bridge went ping ping ping, until there was no more support, the roadway bucked and swerved, shaking the cars off like water off a duck’s back, the duck flew away.
The camels were now racing side by side, jostling for the inside lane, when the fire started. They formed a line and passed the innocent ones out to the waiting emergency services, now called first responders. Under the bypass, where it never rained, they gathered, wearing ragged cast-off clothing, around a fire in a perforated oil can, to take stock.
I think I’m in the lead, said the yellowy grey camel.
In your dreams, said the greyish yellow camel, I’m at least a curvy neck and nose in front.
Juno emerged from the dust cloud with the chasing pack chasing close on her heels. Do camels have heels?
Run like the wind, shouted Sheba, bouncing up and down behind the white painted guard rail. Faster, faster!
Juno crossed the finish line and a mega voice, cutting through the crowd noise, called; And Juno wins by a neck and a hump.
I’m off to cash us up, said the BK, We’re rich, what shall we do with our winnings?
Have you forgotten our Thread, asked Sheba, somewhat aghast, what kind of Questers are we. We must follow the Thread of course.
They found the thread solving its conundrums across the dunes and shouldering their immense wealth, set off to follow, Juno in tow feeling smug.
The Guardians of the Cave 