The last koala

This short story is an *IA Writing Competition (fiction category) entry.

Noah strapped on his watch and checked his health status. Only four hours sleep and needing antioxidants and potassium. He grimaced and spoke to his wrist.

“Two bananas in my protein shake this morning, Pamela. Plus my usual coffee.”

He passed his mother in the hallway. She held up a finger as she stood still, listening.

“They’ll be ready by 3 pm,” she said to the wall. “Yes, delivered. Bye!”

She smiled at Noah.

“Morning darling. You’re early. Dad’s in the office already. Your Grandma’s in the kitchen,” she said. “Try and be friendly.”

“How long is the G staying?”

“Maybe five days? Her room isn’t ready at the ShareNCare. I’m sorry. But you’ll be at school; you won’t have to deal with her too much.”

“It’s just weird seeing her walking around the house in that creepy dressing gown. She’s so old.”

“Well, we’ll all be that old one day.”

“No way! I will be downloaded on to a chip before I look like that!”

“Well, watch out for seagulls."

“Mum, please!”

“Clothes into the machine before you go, please; the laundry butler is on the blink.”

“Again? Oh my god this house! Why aren’t we wealthy?”

“We are wealthy. Look at the rest of the world!”

“Eww, no thanks.”

“Oop, I’ve got another order coming in. Bye bud, have a good day… Clothes!”

In the kitchen, Noah looked in vain for his protein shake.

“This house!”

“Hello darling.”

“G, do you know how to use a washing machine?”

“Yes, of course!”

“If I bring you my clothes, can you put it on for me? The butler’s futzed and I’ve got an early at school because I’m working with this kid from Guatemala who’s staying late.”

“Wow. What’s the project?”

“We’re building a game where you get inside your chosen animal’s head. Like, say, corvids, we’re working on the assumption the two hemispheres of their brain aren’t connected and so they have two consciousnesses.”

“Right, wow.”

“Prime, G, thanks!”

Cheryl looked around the kitchen. It was blank. There were no appliances, no visible cupboards.

Huh.

 Sophia sauntered in.

“Hey, G, how’s your world?”

“Could you help me sweetheart? I am completely at a loss as to how make a cup of tea in this house!”
Sophia smiled. “You just ask the butler.”

Cheryl eyed the room doubtfully.

“I’ve changed it to Cadbury, but don’t tell Noah. He still thinks it’s Pamela. So, he can’t get anything till he works it out. Flaps him right out.”

“Mmm, how do I do that, ask the butler?”

Sophia giggled.

“Cups are here.”

Sophia pressed the wall and revealed crockery.

“You put your mug here, like so, on the breakfast bar. And you just say, like, ‘Cadbury, make a cup of tea!’ Oh, do you want milk? If you do, you just tell him.”

“Where IS he?”

Sophia laughed: “He’s everywhere! Like God.”

Her grandmother blinked.

“Ok then. Cadbury, I’d like a weak black tea. Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank him, G. He’s a robot. He doesn’t care!”

Cheryl blinked.

“Anyway, I’m off to school. I’ve got Philosophy this morning, it’s with these girls from UK, I’m excited!”

“I didn’t think they called it that anymore, since Scotland. Whereabouts in the UK?”

“They’re from Pyongyang. They are so rich! They have everything! But they’re nice; they’re cool.”

Sophia planted a light kiss on her grandmother’s cheek and skipped out the door.

Cheryl was alone in the kitchen. She eyed her mug of tea.

She felt there must be food hidden somewhere behind the wall panels.

“Cadbury,” she said tentatively. “I’d like a piece of toast. Please.”

Cadbury’s emollient voice was soothing.

“There is no [bread] in the [pantry]. [Bread] has been added to the [grocery shopping] list by [insert name here] for delivery [at 5pm today]”.

Cheryl frowned.

“Fuck off Cadbury.”

She pressed the blond walls irritatedly for some minutes. She found the cups again, but no food.

I suppose I could look for the washing machine. If that isn’t hidden from human eyes as well.

She set off to explore the house.

The bedrooms were upstairs. In Noah’s room, she picked up the dirtiest of clothes from the floor. The size of the children’s clothes surprised her. Everything so baggy! Sophia’s room was locked. Eventually, she found the laundry, attached to an empty garage. It took her five minutes of increasingly aggressive button pressing to accidentally get the load started. She took a deep breath.

In the afternoon, Sophia and Noah found her asleep in front of the Home Room screen.

“How old is she anyway?” whispered Noah.

“She was born in 1958, I think. So, she’s..."

“She’s 82! Oh my god!”

“Well, mum and dad were born last century too, though.”

“Don’t I know it! Noah, why don’t you go outside and play. Outside! I mean, have they looked out there?”

Their grandmother opened her eyes.

“How was school?”

Her grandchildren both shrugged.

“Well, Noah, did you get inside the brain of the raven?”

“Crows, actually. But yeah, it’s coming along!”

“And what about you Sophia, what are you looking at in philosophy?”

Noah interrupted. “Philosophy is such a stroke-off! You will be living off the UBI for ev-ah!”

Sophia raised an eyebrow.

“I will be the only person who can help you in the future,” she said. “In your moments of extreme existential despair.”

Noah snorted.

“Do you both go to the same school?” asked Cheryl.

“Yes,” said Sophia. “We’ve only been there the last few years. Finally got out of Povvo Public.”

“Thank god,” added Noah fervently.

Cheryl frowned.

“Is it a private school?”

“It’s one of the home locals,” said Sophia. “It’s not expensive, not like real private schools. They go skiing and stuff, amazing. Ours is just little; it’s down the road. But the woman who runs ours has pretty good XR tech, and there’s about 10 kids who use her. She’s not that expensive and she can connect to our butler for our lunches and stuff. I finish up this year, I’ll be sixteen. An adult! Yay!”

“And then?”

Sophia grimaced. “UBI for a start. And then, I dunno… I could help Mum and Dad with the 3D shoe biz, but, ugh…”

“I’m hungry!” said Noah. “You futzed the butler and I did not get any lunch today!”

“Neither did I,” admitted Cheryl.

Cadbury provided noodles and broad beans, with cultivated meat.

“Lab grown, G.” explained Sophia. “Tastes fine. Better for you. Cheaper.”

Noah ate hungrily.

“What did you do all day, G?”

Cheryl sighed heavily.

“I haven’t been able to connect for months,” she said. “So, I’ve been catching up. Cadbury made it all work for me. It’s very depressing. Speaking of existential despair, I’m going to need your philosophical skills, darling.”

“What depressed you specifically?”

“Oh well, just the state of the entire world. Where do I start?”

Their grandmother laughed a little wildly.

“The North American Civil war was bad enough. That was just after you were born, Sophia. Then North Africa was awful. East Africa. Food riots in South America. Everyone starving, fighting.”

Sophia winced.

“And then the Arctic. The poor polar bears.”

“We saw one at the zoo once,” said Noah. “Before we moved here.”

“The Third Pandemic was appalling. And of course, Ebola in Europe.”

“Whoah! Is that still a thing?” Noah looked frightened.

“The dead reefs in the Pacific. And terror in the Persian Gulf… the refugee slaughters.”

“That one was fake news, G!” said Noah. “I saw on Katchup.”

“Not fake news!” snapped Cheryl. “You children have been ridiculously protected.”

Noah pouted; Sophia looked thoughtful.

“Well,” said Sophia. “On the bright side, we did stop global warming at two degrees. And we have reached 100 per cent renewables now.”

“We’re down to the last koala,” said Cheryl.

“No!” Noah shook his head.

Sophia raised an eyebrow sceptically.

“I mean, how would you even know?”

I got Cadbury to find a journalist who has been writing about koalas for decades. You use #TheLastKoala. She’s been doing this since before you two were born. She shows you the so-called “healthy koala habitats” and explains how you can tell the footage isn’t real. It’s old bits looped together apparently; if you wait long enough you can see it repeat. So that is fake news, Noah. Then she shows the real thing. There’s only one koala left in Australia, and she hasn’t got long to live.

“Woah,” said Noah. “I will have to put her in my game.”

Noah and Sophia slumped next to Cheryl on the couch.

“Show us the koala stuff, G,” said Sophia.

“It’s important to know,” said Cheryl. “Otherwise, you’ll be just as foolish as your parents.”

Noah blinked.

“So?” he asked.

Sophia spoke softly. “If we can’t tell the difference and we don’t even try to find out what is true, we are agreeing to a world built on lies and dishonesty.”

Her grandmother smiled.

“We did a project on the epistemology of fake news and the virtue of epistemic trustworthiness,” added Sophia.

Noah put his hands over his ears and waggled his tongue.

Sophia made a face back at him.

She turned to her grandmother.

“It’s awks though G, because basically ‘trust nobody’ is the breakfast cereal of conspiracy theorists, but it’s also kind of where you have to start.”

“It is,” agreed her grandmother. “You’ve got to be smart. There’s a job for you. Exposing bullshit!”
“Woah, getting feisty, G,” said Noah.

Cheryl pointed at the wall screen.

“Look! There she is! The last koala!”

“Oh, she’s so cute!”

The last koala turned towards them. She had a big head. Her soft brown eyes looked at them sadly. Her round ears were fluffy, grey and white. The skin around her nose was mottled brown and pink. The children stared at her appreciatively. She looked sleepily back. She blinked.

“What’s her name?”

“I don’t actually think she has one,” said Cheryl. “She’s about 14 years old…”

“Woah, same as me!” Noah sat up.

“I’m not sure how many years she has left though. And all her babies have died.”

“Oh, what! How?”

“The joeys go off on their own when they’re about a year old. Hers have all been tracked. Some hit by cars. Some killed by dogs. Disease. Habitat loss of course. Feral cats. And now there’s no males, so no more babies!”

“Isn’t there one in Japan?” asked Sophia.

“She died last year,” Cheryl replied.

“Can’t they clone her?” asked Noah.

“Didn’t they freeze her eggs? Like, in the egg bank?”

“They do have some eggs and sperm in the Ice Zoo. But the funding has dried up. I don’t know what the future of that project will be. Realistically, the sixth mass extinction started decades ago. There’s too many species gone already for the Ice Zoo to be really viable.”

Noah made a noise with his throat. Cheryl patted his knee.

“She really is, I’m afraid, the last koala.”

“God damn, G, I’m going to need my own philosophical pep talk!”

Sophia began to cry.

Matthew and Emma sat down with Cheryl in the home room. The children were upstairs.

“Mum,” said Emma.

“Darling.”

Matt cleared his throat. “The thing is, Cheryl.”

“Mum, the kids are really upset. You’ve upset them.”

Cheryl stared.

“Look, I know the world isn’t all that good out there,” began Emma.

Cheryl snorted.

“But we don’t want all that agonising for our kids! There’s nothing that people like us can do.”

“I’m sorry?”

“We moved here, Cheryl, to keep things small, and safe. It’s not the kids’ job to save the world. We want them to just, you know, make friends, play sport, go to school. Get a job maybe.”

“Mum, we moved here to get away from all that trauma.”

“Just leave all that to someone else?”

“It’s a good place, Cheryl! All local services. Good local council, low crime; there’s a bloody hospital!”

“It’s good that your bubble is a nice one. I don’t begrudge you that…”

“Yes, you do though, Mum! You always want to be looking at the worst, not… not... getting on with life.”

“You can’t just get on with life when the world is in this state!”

“We can,” said Matt stubbornly.

“Mum, I know you think we’re selfish and – I don’t know – heedless, but we just want what is best for our kids!”

“What about everyone else’s kids?”

“They’re not ours, Mum. And while it might be fine for you to care more about other people’s children than your own, that is absolutely not how we want to bring up our children.”

Cheryl was silent.

Emma bit her lip.

“Is that what you think I did?”

“Well, yes, actually. I mean... well, yes. When Tom and I were little, nothing we did was ever as important as, I don’t know, Afghanistan or whatever.”

Cheryl rose unsteadily.

“My god, caring about the world means your own children don’t. I wonder what the next generation will do. Full circle I hope.”

“Mum.”

Cheryl tightened her dressing gown and left the room.

Emma looked at Matt: “Fuck.”

“It’s not like she does anything about it all. Just bitches. But man, she does that like a fucking expert!” Matt hugged his wife.

“She’ll get over it,” he said.

In the morning, Sophia and Noah were sipping protein shakes when Cheryl came into the kitchen.

“Good news from the ShareNCare,” said Cheryl brightly. “I can move in this afternoon!”

“Woah! That was quick! How far away is it? Will we see you before Christmas?”

“That’s up to Mum and Dad, really. It’s a fair way off. But we can Zoom or whatever.”

Noah giggled. Sophia nudged him.

“Don’t mind him, G. He thinks the units are hysterical when they say old stuff too.”

Cheryl was puzzled: “The units? What old stuff?”

“The parentals,” explained Sophia. “Zoom. So, you won’t be here when we get home today?”

“No", said Cheryl, again very brightly. “I’m so lucky the room is almost ready.”

Sophia got up and hugged her. Noah did the same.

“We’ll miss you!”

Cheryl’s mouth turned down at the corners.

“Well, darlings, goodbye. Keep learning!”

“Don’t worry, G,” smiled Sophia. “I’ll expose the bullshit!”

“We’re going to keep watching that koala. I am going to put her in my game.”

Cheryl smiled.

“She’ll need a name. Call her Cheryl.”

“It’s not an excellent name for a koala..."

Sophia thumped her brother.

“It’s perfect,” she said. “Bye, G. We’ll call you!”

Cheryl waved as the children left for school. She put a mug on the breakfast bar.

“Cadbury, weak black tea. And look, while you’re at it, world peace would be nice.”

“There is no [world peace] in the..."

“Shut up, Cadbury.”

Cheryl rubbed her temples and grimly drank her tea.

“Rest assured, Cheryl,” continued Cadbury smoothly. “The kids will be alright.”

Cheryl stared.

“Did you..."

“Did..."

She raised her mug.

“Well, woah!” she said. “To the future!”

“Cheers,” said Cadbury.

Jenny Rae is a writer, former teacher and migration agent. 

* Full IA Writing Competition details HERE.

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