TOMORROW’S WORLD 2012-01-26 Three little girls See how they swing Three little girls With their little toys See how they whirl And touch the clouds All over the world. This starts with Australia in two ways: First with a writer I know who told me at one point he chose, with a friend, to write about a meteorite falling in Siberia, just because they had bet anything could be turned into a good story. He said the book was an honourable sell. Then he wrote about sailing and the America’s cup, even though he was not into the sport, and did not take to it. So there are strange things published, but fiction starts somewhere. Secondly, I fly hang gliders, and there is a yearly competition in Forbes, Australia. This is not fiction. Check it out. True story. I saw on television that people want it real. I would tend to agree a life experience has more value. But ideas have to find their cradle somewhere. John, the writer, was born in Sydney, and lived in London and the USA before settling in Paris. He is definitely a book person; he writes then, collects them and writes about collecting them. Australia loves water sports and being a rebel he chose an apartment in Paris, no white water, no surf, but “Hemingway was here” and the mark of his glass remains on the beer mat on the counter of the café where, no doubt, he talked with Gertrude Stein. To be followed by Sartre and Juliette Greco. It is nice to be inside in winter. If you love the outdoors you can nevertheless walk around the Luxembourg garden when the right season comes, watch the boats, and think of the Pantheon nearby. How does that compare with the Great Barrier Reef, or with Western Australia? Well, we are talking about different opportunities. Brother this ain’t no surf bum story. The times they have changed. 3D now. Droids and stuff. The desert is so “passé. Déjà vous” (I know – I know). Let me tell you about Forbes. It is in New South Wales, with more than 7000 inhabitants; there were gold mines, there are wheat fields, Ned Kelly’s sister is buried in the cemetery. (Ned is an iconic outlaw in Australian history) One little girl: Leanya is from Ukraine. She has a blog written in Cyrillic (and English). She has friends in Moscow. I have never travelled east of the former Iron curtain, but I can see colours have been introduced with the orange revolution (and a blond prime minister with strange buns in her hair). I have heard of “a history of tractors in Urkrainian” by Marina Lewycka, a British writer you should read. I am not a great fan of Soviet period architecture, grey drab state housing, slushy cold weather and the choice between howling and hibernating. Leanya is a rather shapely young woman who is pictured doing a cartwheel on the banner on top of her home page. The world is clearly upside down sometimes. It rolls, in a sexy way. Circus artists and jugglers. Balls in the air and weightlessness. Flying makes you feel that way and we may want to share that on ocasions. She works in computers. Two little girls: Jenny is from Texas. A one-star only state. Nobody knows why. She has an American jaw and smile. She is a lawyer. She graduated with the gown and mortar board (the hat) at the “commencement” ceremony. Not tall, but not short. Born and bred on hamburgers and French fries, for a while. Big spaces, lots of energy. Move it, “make it happen” (Chevrolet). Not all Americans supported Bush, but the country and the culture have an influence all over the world. Except I am just talking about this one person. So leave some of the prejudice and oil wells aside. Three little girls: Do the same for Martina please She is from France, where roots run deep. The air is filled with “la part des anges”. Not angel dust, but the aging evaporation from brandy (cognac) casks, oak and alcohol. The Eiffel tower is way in the background. We are in the kitchen, or in the vegetable garden, or picking up mushrooms in the forest. Wine runs like blood in these veins, and they don’t get clogged by saturated fat. Way of life. Occupied by the Romans, carpe diem, long time no see. With a competitive edge, and some reproductive capabilities (for a while). She is a working mother of two. Ah! Descartes, Voltaire! Leanya, Jenny and Martina went to Forbes for a flying competition. You hang prone under a kind of kite and you try to go somewhere as fast as possible thanks to rising air columns that most people have not necessarily heard of. These girls must have something in common in their mind, though they come from different backgrounds. They are among the best at what they are doing, as good as men mostly; results can vary with mood, equipment and the shape you are in. I picked them because their performance is a guarantee they react with cool composure to a severe situation… and also they have good communication skills. The age range is wide enough, 26 to middle age. Not a question of recklessness and youth against wisdom and old age. There is also more than a touch of fun. Why not consider men? Simply they are not so significantly rare in this situation. This is important for the future. This is evolution under our very eyes. What I don’t quite know is how much they have talked to each other. They know each other, they have common friends or acquaintances, but that does not mean they shared more than a few drinks. Language is a minor problem thanks to English. Australia is not exactly the nearest place from their home for them to meet, but I guess we can say it is neutral territory in a way. Wheat fields are rather similar on different continents. I was telling John, the writer, about all this, thinking it was a good cast of main characters for a story. You tell tales of their lives and make them come together at one point in time, in this one place in the middle of nowhere, and then you decide what happens. Like… boom! A meteorite strikes. Of course I am only joking. Nobody would believe that…. Unless you tell it the right way. Or you have them meet a mad doctor, who looks like Clooney, in the one and only bar at the crossroad, and he understands they have this common convolution in their brain that a scan will reveal. So he has to convince, or entice, or lure them to spend some time in his private hospital (slightly psychic patients – there is a lake and a forest). Leanya writes a proprietary brain wave surfing program which enables almost everybody to achieve altered states of consciousness, reach Nirvana and fly back. How’s that? Or they are selected to become the ruling Trium-mater (new word), a needed female directorate, who will decide or not, to push the button when the incoming meteorite (again) comes too close to Earth, with a lot of risks of fall-outs, and the future of our planet at stake. OMG; (and then GMOs) So I told John, ”you know what, I think you must have a conversation with these girls and see for yourself what they have to say, get them to cooperate, and then you can start your work.” He hesitated a little, put the glass of beer back on the table, and said: “yes, I guess we could go to Forbes next year, just to give it a try.” Pascal Legrand Visiteurs : 403 Back to home