A Time Traveller's Tale
Settle down my children. It is time grandad read you a story.
What will it be tonight?
Tales of Nania ... no we had that last week.
A Christmas Story - the Margaret Atwood version ... mmm.
Gulliver's Travels .... a bit old hat.
Ah - here is one you may like - " A Time Traveller's Tale".
One day and old man was walking in the dark wood.
Suddenly, in a clearing in the wood, he saw a strange box like object.
Leaning laconically against this box was a person in a long coat.
As the old man approached, the person turned towards him and she said, "I am the Doctor - Who are you?"
The old man was startled, but replied, "My friends call me Lardarse, and my enemies call me Leftwinggreenie".
The Doctor extended his hands and they exchanged a warm handshake as the old man now trusted this woman and was encouraged by her friendly manner.
The Doctor went on, "I am a time traveller and I have lived in your future. I want to tell you a story so that you can tell your grandchildren and they may tell their grandchildren and this future will come to be their future.
This is the story the Doctor told the old man.
Many years from now in the time of St. Rude - who had performed a great miracle - he had managed to get something through the Senate and the cannons fired and beauty pageants were held throughout the land.
Despite this, times were hard.
In the city of Gerriville, all the people appeared to have lost their spark. They looked old, even though some were quite young. Their attire was uniformly cardigans and twin sets. The doctrone passed on from parent to child was that comfort was the main aspiration and one mustn't buck the system.
The Chamber of SIT (snouts in trough) worked hard to reinforce that feeling by encouraging "Development" - concrete tilt was the architecture of choice and shopping malls sprang up everywhere and large houses studded the countryside.
Shopping was a common analgesic to help create the illusion of comfort.
Of course their were young people who rejected this paradigm - but they were mostly packed off to a regional university - the university of the perpetual party - students there who could spell their own name correctly were awarded with High Distinctions.
There were two young people there who eschewed the cardi and twin-set mould and avoided the UoPP and who dreamed of a different world.
Their names were Wayfayette and Jellybelly.
Bicycles existed in Gerriville but they were of the super-light weight variety, made of exotic materials and costing a great deal of money. A few of the citizens of Gerriville had purchased these bikes and for a few hours each week, got out of their dull garb and donned the bright lycra clothing which was deemed the only clothing with which to ride these bikes. Lycritis was a well known pathology in the city, but doctors could not find a cure and indeed, doctors were often amongst the worst afflicted.
These cyclists tended to travel at great speed around the city for short periods and then placing their bikes back on their vehicles, drove to home or their places of work.
Wayfayette and Jellybelly liked the idea of travelling by bicycle but could not see the sense in the speed and funny looking clothing. They searched through the piles of discarded bicycles and managed to fashion something a lot more practical for getting around on.
They became very enthusiastic about the bicycle as a means of transport for the post-oil age they were in and that it could be available for all, not just a few.
Although they loved their fellow citizens, they thought they might find other ways of doing things beyond the boundaries of their region, they decided to undertake a journey of discovery and on returning help to break the soulless torpor which gripped their city.
Pedalling out of Gerriville, they were both excited and yet apprehensive about what they might find.
After a few days pedalling they heard the city they were approaching before they saw any sign of it. The loud thud-thud of engines could be heard in the valleys along which they pedalled. Cresting the next hill, they saw another valley shrouded in smoke and as they came closer to it a large sculpture in bronze rose out of the smog. They saw eventually that it was figure of a man, standing on the roof of an old fashioned car. At the base of the sculpture was the town's name - Motorville.
Pedalling on further into the city proper, they noticed that there were not that many cars about but what few there were, were painted in bright primary colours, but to their surprise, close examination showed them to be electric vehicles, but they belched out artificial smoke and huge speakers in the vehicles emitted the loud "thud-thud" they had heard from far away. No doubt this was a city in a time warp, which worshipped the noise and smell of old petrol driven vehicles.
Citizens not in cars sat in special cubicles in large malls, sporting the ubiquitous peaked hats and their eyes were covered by a sort of shield. Jellybelly and Wayfayette were curious and paid an attendant to enter one of these cubicles. When they donned the shield, they were immediately surrounded by cars revving and swerving and sounding their horns. It was so frightenting that Wayfayette and Jellybelly threw off their shields and realised that it was virtual reality they were viewing where the sights and sounds of old cars were endlessly replayed.
This was a disease far more life debilitating than the Lycritus of Gerriville.
When they found someone with whom they could talk they were informed that the town lived for an annual car race promoted by their Chamber of SIT and the board of governors - who were elected on the promise of supporting it.
Wayfayette asked -"But what fuels the car - petrol no longer exists?". "No", the citizen sadly nodded. "We boild up the few remaining animals in our province and produce a brew which will fuel a few of the old cars around a couple of laps each year and that keeps everyone happy".
Jellybelly and Wayfayette walked away, pushing their bikes and shaking their heads at this grand delusion. Feeling their health diminishing their by the minute, they mounted their bikes and pedalled out of the smoke and noise, on the road out over the hills.
Though barren of animal life the was still some stunted vegetation for a few more hours but gradually this became more sparse with great patches barren ground. Pretty soon this gave way to a vast desert. Eventually out of the desert signs of habitation appeared.
It was or had been a great city. The buildings were mostly moribund now, but our travellers could see that their had been grand eddifices once in the long ago past.
The sign at the entrance ot the city said "Citrusville", but this now appeared very ironic. The citizens they could see were few in number and appeared very down at heel. Thier eyes were downcast, as the searched ravinously for anything they might offer a morsel to eat.
When they saw an old woman sitting in the shade of an old mansion, they pedalled over to speak with her. They asked her how the place became so barren and how was she able to survive here.
She said, "It wasn't always like this I am told." "A long time ago this was an area of great prosperity, with thriving orchards, vineyards, cattle and deer strolled around rich pastures. Creeks flowed with clear water."
"What happened?" asked Wayfayette.
"Well, I'm told there were warnings that the world was warming but an old mayor at the time - Barnaby I think was his name - said "Bunkum!". A mine nearby needed water for its operation and Barnaby sold him our town water."
"The mine grew and its appetite for more water grew and Barnaby happily supplied it."
"As the climate became warmer, the streams eventually dried up. Barnaby put down huge bores at great expense but they too eventually dried up. As the farms closed down one by one, Barnaby fled the district, and the district fell into ruin. The few remaining trees were felled for fuel to run generators to keep the flat screen tv's and air conditioners going, but eventually there was nothing less to burn."
"The few of us left here, manage by scavanging a few pieces of fruit found on remnant trees and vines and a lizard there and a rat there. Good pickings can often be had at the old mine site, which was used for many years as a rubbish dump for waste from the Metropolis."
Hearing the old woman's story, Jellybelly and Wayfayette, could imagine what a paradise Citrusville once was but what a dangerous force the quest for wealth coupled with an ignorance of the obvious was.
With heavy hearts they pedalled on, beginning to doubt that they would ever find the city of their dreams - that exemplar they could take back to Gerriville to inspire their citizens to break their soporific spell.
As they pedalled on, their spirits gradually lifted throught the combined effect of the sheer pleasure of riding a bicycle but also because the landscape was once again changing to a greener hue.
The hills were now covered with trees and also on all the tallest hills, gleaming white windmills turned poetically and placidly.
The valleys were once again crowded with farms which were small but highly productive mixed farming enterprises.
Entwined seamlessly within and between the farms were arrays of mirrors facing north which Jellybelly and Wayfayette recognised from their reading as being solar thermal plants.
Even more pleasurable to see was the constant traffic to and from the farms - of bicycles. Bicycles with baskets, bicycles trailers - all chock full of farm produce.
Thrilled by what they saw, they pedalled on into increasing traffic, but as this was mostly cyclists -sans helmets- in separated lanes, but also small electic cars emitting no noise or smoke and electric buses.
A few kilometers further on they passed the city sign - "Conviviaville"!
They felt very safe pedalling into this obviously busy and thriving city. Where the motorist intersected with the cyclist the cyclist had right of way. Cyclists had the forward position at traffic lights and so could be easily seen and safely negotiated by the vehicle drivers.
Wayfayette and Jellybelly were beside themselves with joy.
It wasn't just the traffic, there was genuine sense of wellbeing and prosperity. People chatted together as they pedalled. Cafes and restaurants were crowded with happy people and commerce hummed along at the steady pace of the bicycle rhythm.
The bicycles themselves were of the practical variety. Obviously affordable as nearly everyone had one and they came in all sorts of varieties - some specialised for carrying children, others for transporting goods. People of all ages pedalled. The general health of the community was markedly apparent.
Wayfayette and Jellybelly just had to find out how this transformation had come about.
They got directions to the Council House and pedalled there straight away. Securing their bikes on one of the many specialised parking bays available, they could see that here was a council which took cycling seriously.
Immediately they sought an interview with the Mayor and because they had made such a journey from Gerriville, they were admitted without delay.
The Mayor came from behind her desk, extending her hand and smiling broadly -"Hello, my name is Tracey, you must be Wayfayette and Jellybelly from Gerriville."
Our travellers shook the Mayor's hand warmly at the same time noting that the Mayor's bicycle was in the corner of the room.
"How can I help you?" Tracey asked.
"We have been so surprised and pleased with everything we have seen here, how did it all begin?" asked Wayfayette.
"Well, when I was a young woman, I came across a book from my great ancestors library - also a Tracey and also a Councillor. That book was called "Tools of Conviviality" by Ivan Illich."
"Illich emphasised that the tools needed by society to flourish needed to be inexpensive and preferably human powered. We have been facing a challenge of the loss of fossil fuels and a warming planet and also increasing population."
"I passed this book on to some of my friends and we began discussing the concepts and eventually we decided to run for council and see if we could bring about changes in the way we did things here and at the same time grow a community which was both prosperous and yes, convivial. This message seemed to fall on receptive ears and we were elected."
"We chose cycling as the first nut to crack. If we could make cycle transport mainstream then that would be a huge behavioural change. If that behaviour could change it would become easier to move on to renewable energy, local food, biodiversity and so on."
"Yes!" interjected Jellybelly -"we noticed that on the way into town."
"So what was your strategy with cycling?"
Tracey continued, "We already had a cycling culture but it was sport and recreational based. Proud of it though we were, we had produced many champions and many cycling events are held at our CyclePark, we had to step right around that and create cycling as a mainstream transport option."
"A key strategy was to get women cycling to work or places of education. We knew safety and comfort were to be big issues. That meant we had to invest in infrastructure - safe cycling lanes separated as much as possible from the motorised traffic, prioritised parking for bikes right at places of work, education, cafes, bars and restaurants."
"You obviously have been successful. No one rides bikes for transport in Gerriville. Was it easy to get people to change their habits?" asked Wayfayette.
"Not at all, " answered Tracey, "we established bicyle plan for the city with a ten year scope but with regular reviews each two years to see if we were meeting our goals. Our initial goals were conservative and with hindsight, quite realisic. We aimed at a modest 2% of cycle transport within the first two years, rising to 5% in the next two and so on. After 12 years we are now at close to 50% of our citizens regularly using bicycles as transport."
With mounting excitement bubbling up within, Wayfayette asked, "Have there been side benefits in the shift from private motor transport to bikes?"
"Health is big winner as is business. Cyclists on average live 7 years longer than car drivers and they have fewer sick days and free up hospital bed for more needy cases so it has had a very significant effect on our health budget. The city estimates there is a net profit to the city of $1 for ever km cycled. "
"From an environmental viewpoint our estimate is that we save about 4,500 tonnes of carbon dioxide pollution each year."
"Even from a city planning perspective, easy safe cycling infrastructure, combined with our green space program, community gardens and car free civic space has been much easier to sell medium density living to our citizens so take pressure off housing developments in our rural areas, thus saving valuable agricultural land for the growing of food and fibre which are now booming industries in our region."
Wayfayette and Jellybelly sat transfixed in smiles. They felt ready to take this story home.
They thanked Tracey profusely and expressed their sincere gratitude. After a joyful cycle around the city taking in all the experiences they could, they took leave of the city of Conviviaville and set out for home.
They stopped off in Citrusville and told the story of who would listen and those who did were grateful. In Motorville they broke through the wall of noise and smoke to tell those citizens of the thriving city of Conviviaville and that a prosperous future could be made without the oil economy.
On reaching their home in Gerriville they were welcomed back with great enthusiasm. Many clustered to hear their story. The Chamber of SIT was disbanded and the Chamber of Wellbeing formed. A new council was elected from energised citizens who could see many new opportunities in front of them.
Wayfayette and Jellybelly participated with great enthusiasm in all these changes and were very happy. The citizens of Gerriville did not discard their cardies or twin sets – but they looked much younger and smiled a lot as they cycled around their now vitalised region.
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