Wednesday, September 30, 2009


NOTE The following is an adaptation from the soon to be released book ‘Letters From 2030’. To register interest on its release, or to order a copy email Bob Williamson via this link.

New visitors to the chronicles from the future may first wish to visit the past, by reading the earlier hologramletters. (see the older listings on the right, go to the bottom and click the link to the earlier hologramletters)

He walked to the monitors and switched the dial to transmit. He spoke his reply to his long lost ‘comrade-in-arms’ for the good of Earth, Katey.

February 4th 2030

Katey it warms my heart to hear from you and to know that you and Anthony are working closely for the few that are now safe within the HAARP compound. I see much of your daily life as it unfolds, on the memory screens I have here. You have endured a great deal over the years.

You spoke of your trials and of your loss of Doc. I can see on the memory screens the pain that still hangs over you. All may still not be lost and one day she may return when she feels her work is done in the badlands. So keep her in your thoughts.

The season of dust has now arrived here and I worry about my ability to keep the solar panels clear during the next four or five months. Although it’s only February 4th 2030 the storms have been getting worse and lasting longer with each passing year. I have had to take the much more labour intensive action to brush the dust from the panels every 2 hours during the season, as washing them is no longer practical with the lack of rainfall for harvesting that now plagues me. My small water storage capacity collected on the roof is far too precious to use for any purpose other than vegetable production and my meagre ration to drink of1 litre a day. I have had to take to bathing from a small bowl only weekly and often my skin feels deprived of its ability to breathe due to constantly blocked pores.

You must tell me in your next hologramletter of how you are surviving there at the HAARP compound with your water scarcity and sterilization issues. I have developed a system of carbon filters in order to clear most of the heavy metals that now invade the rain that falls, but the season of dust brings with it the added burden of lead, asbestos and uranium contamination, picked up from the mining activities carried out to keep pace with our economic greed for industrial expansion in the first and second decades. I often think back to those days when the dust storms first started here in Australia, quickly followed by those in the United States Southwest, China, Russia and throughout the Middle East. The open pit and mountaintop removal of resources had its opponents, but they were no match for the economic, industrial and politically powerful lobbies, working for growth at all costs. Even with the dramatic increases in asthma, leukaemia, cancer, respiratory failure and eye disease brought on by the arrival of the toxic plumbs of dust invading our cities, no one rebelled loudly enough for the open sores on our landscape to be healed with reafforestation programs until it was all too late. The land turned to desert as the variable seasons brought less and less rainfall, or torrential flooding that washed away the remaining topsoil. The water ways, rivers and lakes became toxic highways leading to wetlands that no longer could survive the effluent of mans folly. The coastal habitats once abundant with fish, became polluted and acidic, and finally by 2020 after the collapse of the West Antarctic’s Ross Ice Shelf in 2014 and the Greenland Ice Cap with the Big Thunder in March 2020, the industrial strips along the coasts of many countries gave up their remaining additional stocks of toxic pollution, as the seas rose to invade them.

I remember all too well, as I’m sure you do; as the food riots, killings and chaos spread to every city across the world during 2017, after crop after crop, could no longer be grown as nature had intended; out in the open, brought on in part by the dust storm contamination and the sulphurous rains that fell following the Hail Mary Project to geo-engineer our precious atmosphere with billions of tonnes of sulphurous particles. I wonder what ever happened to the scientist Paul Crutzen? He like you disappeared from sight when the US Defence Advanced Research Projects Agency who administered the disaster, distanced themselves from him in 2016. How many billions of dollars were wasted during those years to try to find new ways of tampering with nature, rather than fixing the problems of carbon emissions spewing from the world’s obsession to maintain the fossil fuel economy?

Had we recognised our interdependence on a healthy planet and spoken out, would those mothers and fathers looting and killing, scavenging for food for their children have become the hoards they were? Would we now be in a world where the people’s voice had saved us, and our political system had returned from the clutch of industry to be a rule of the people?

We will see each other again soon my friend, for now I must return to the rooftop and clear to thickening red dust blocking out the remaining sun from reaching my solar collectors. The storm has increased and visibility is less than a meter, so time is short.

Until tomorrow… Stay safe – stay indoors. Much hope to you.


  1. With every passing day the future of 2030 loams closer upon us. The timeline here is not the issue. The reality that will overtake humanity, is.

    As the debate over health care continues, here in America. We can be assured that the debate on climate change is ungoing. The placating of Industry is under way under the smoke and mirrors of the stage show.

    Without properly addressing climate change, health care is a mute issue. I see a new enemy, an enemy within. The Fundementalist delusion of The Family. Evil on the planet is faith based, we must bridge the divide of cultural difference by embracing the realism of humanism.

    Alas, perhaps in 2030, or whenever the destruction takes hold. Then, perhaps, if any survive, minds will be allowed to embrace our samness, not or petty differences.

  2. The writer Bob Williamson can be contacted at his personal email address