(posted this on my blogger account first due to livejournal issues. Here's the last post, to complete the story. Took me ages to get livejournal to accept this...)

July, 2019

Mia wiped her brow in the early summer heat, leaving a streak of brown earth across her face from the land beneath her feet. She dusted off her skirt and put the last of the vegetables into the wicker basket and headed out of the allotments. It was midsummer and many of the little vegetable gardens were alive with produce.

She rushed up to the stop just in time to squeeze onto the tram as it reached the top of Whiteladies Road. As always, the electric trolleybus was full of students, shoppers and those like Mia who had an allotment on the Downs. She flashed her ration card across the conductor's reader and grabbed a handrail as the tram lurched onwards.

The market was busy, as ever, full of ramshackle stalls and semi-permanent shops where the cars once drove. Security walked prominently amongst the crowds of shoppers, subtle but conspicuously watching. Little boys chased in amongst the stalls, enjoying their fun whilst their holidays were on.

Mia lived in Clifton, in a house that had once been one tall Georgian home but after heavy retrofits was now occupied by four couples. she entered the kitchen/living space and put the basket of fruit and veg on the counter. She reminded herself to make sure she had enough electricity rations to use more than two rings on the hob.

She splashed some water onto her face and called into the flat's only other room.

"Alex?" she said. "You done with the computer?"

"Sure," came the reply. "You logging onto work?"

She went into the bedroom and put her arms around her husband's shoulders as he logged off his workstation and got up to let her use the computer. She gave him a long kiss welcome.

"Thanks," she said. "How'd work go?"

"Alright," he said, scratching his neck. "We're getting close to having enough people signed on to make the panels now."

"Excellent," she said, giving him another kiss. "I'll let you know when I'm done."

"That's ok love," he said. "I've got to go check out the shipment of raw materials makes it here safe. I'll see you later."

"'K." She watched him leave, his powerful body distracting her.

Alex had been American most of his life, although he now tried to hide it. His English parents had sent him to university in Bristol with the last of their savings after the third oil crash. After the fourth, they came to the UK to join him permanently.

Mia had met him at university. He studied engineering, she did biochemistry. They were both part of the students wing of the local energy conservation project. They got to talking and then to other things. When he finished university, Alex went to work for Greg's local solar company. After Greg died in the Bird Flu epidemic of 2016, Alex took over the company, trying to encourage local craftsmen to build the panels in small batches, using the bare minimum of imported materials.

She logged on to the power-saving computer - a small lcd screen and a low powered processor to use as little energy as possible. She checked her emails. A few related to her work on the ecosystem of the new Severn barrage - she was trying to cultivate a family of fish that would be farmable and help solve the silting of the reservoir. There was also one from Uncle Andy.

"What trouble are you in now?" she wondered. Andy had gotten more and more into the open source drug scene, an underground movement to reverse engineer medications and release them as creative commons licensed recipes for anyone to use. Needless to say the drug companies heavily clamped down on it, and now Andy was having to dance around their checks, again.

'sorry kiddo,' the letter read 'looks like we're under the cosh here again for a few months - nothing more than potatoes and sheep on the farm, I promise! It means your little delivery isn't going to make it, I'm afraid. Lots of Love, Andy.'

That made her sit up and take notice. Her 'little delivery' was her contraceptive pill - far cheaper by open source than what it costed from the government, even if they did try to push it on everyone to reduce the population targets. The government pill didn't suit her - gave her cramps. This was going to be a pain. She put the thought to one side and read over the days reports from the students working at the reservoir. The barrage was soon to open and they'd been trying out a number of breeds of fish in small enclosures to see which survived the best.

Rapidly absorbed in her work, she was only stirred by the blinking light that told her the power credit for the computer was running out. She saved her work and let the screen power down silently. No point in wasting any more rations - she could do the rest by hand.

Alex returned. She put a finger to her lips and led him out to the window of the living room. He frowned.

"What?"

"Alex," she said, "what do you feel about a child?"

His look was stunned. She explained the situation with the birth control.

"But you've never wanted to bring a child into the world before," he said. "You've always said this world is too dangerous to bring a new life into."

Mia looked out of the window with Alex's arm around her, thinking about the events since the first oil spike. She thought about the Iran war and the bombing of Jerusalem. About Alex's stories of the corn famine in Alberta, when the biofuel crisis kickstarted the third oil crash and the breakup of the USA. She thought about the clashes between Cascadia and the remaining states, about the billions starving across the world. She thought about her mother and Greg and nursing them during the flu crisis, and their deaths. About the flooding of Bangladesh and the electricity riots of 2013.

Then she looked around at the small but comfortable house and the husband she shared it with. She looked at the streets, empty of traffic, where kids played in the road and every house had something growing. She thought of the barrage and the power it was going to supply, as well as the food from the fish. She thought about Alex's work with fitting locally made solar panels on local roofs, and the vast number of local businesses thriving in their own little ways.

A dark shape appeared in the sky, sending a shadow down onto the streets. They watched as the supply airship drifted languidly into view, fresh from dropping off important components and materials such as those Alex needed. Its vast helium balooon meandered lazily across the sky, heading back to its home port slowly but using very little fuel. The underslung cabin caught the dimming sunlight, glowing deep red as it passed over the city and out towards the Atlantic. Mia turned away from the window.

"You know," she said. "I think we're ready."

"Really?" Alex didn't look convinced.

"Yeah," she said. "We've lived in a world without oil for 12 years, with all this doom and destruction but we've survived. Our life isn't rich compared to what my parents had, or yours. But it's rich enough. This world's not perfect, but it's ours. I think we're ready to bring a new life into it."

"Ok," Alex said. He hugged her and turned towards the kitchen table. "I traded some of our potatoes for some quinoa the airship brought in. You want that tonight?"

"Sure," Mia said, "that sounds good."

She moved away from the window, and the moment was gone.


[author's note: week 32 (or 632, if you like)

I've been planning this for a while - a look into the future without oil (does that count as the letter 'f'?). I want to end it with a cautiously hopeful note. There is a world out there without oil where people can live their lives. It won't be as material rich as ours and it may take a lot of struggle to get there. But ultimately, we will get there, because we must.

I just want to say how much I've enjoyed the experience of wwo and a big round of applause for all the guys running the site and everyone contributing. Together we created a world. That's a hell of an achievement - and I hope that it leaves our real world a little more informed and aware than it was before. I hope so.]

I received a pleasant email earlier in the week from lucy1965, one of the other netizens! She's been trying to get over to the UK for months now and with all the problems with immigration, it's only now she's coming, to be an EMT midwife in South Buckinghamshire. Lucy's been one of the people in this crisis that's been most supportive (I've also had wonderful correspondence with Sam the prudent RVer and megiddo_tell, jimboboz, lead_tag, gracemominnh, gerben1974 and a few other great people).

She emailed to say that she was flying into Cardiff and would be stopping off in Bristol on her way to her new home! She asked if I wanted to meet for some lunch and of course I said yes, so we're going to be meeting next week!

Another person is making a change this week too. Similar to what rdy2rte is saying here, Uncle Andy's getting excited about the farm he bought off dad. He's setting off today, taking a bus into the heart of Wales with a couple of bags to start a new life.

I asked Andy why he was taking so little things - his phone and the solar charger Greg gave him, his laptop and another solar charger (although greg made him pay for this one - it's about £2000 pounds worth of panels), some clothes, a toothbrush, straight razor and about ten books.

"What else do I need?" he said. "The farm'll have food and enough power to to eat and keep the lights working. Apart from an internet connection and some heating for when it really gets cold, that's all I want."

I envy him. He looks happier than he's been since he came back. The stuff that happened in Saudi really screwed around with him but it looks like now he's going to go off, set up a homestead and make things alright again. In his head more than anything else.

"I could come with you," I said, when he was at the bus station. He shook his head. He pressed his hand into my coat pocket.

"Stay and study," he said. "Learn something that'll work in this new world. Come visit me in the holidays, and in the summer. Until then, I wanna see you learning something useful, ok?"

"Ok Uncle Andy," I said, and we all stood back as he threw his bag into the luggage compartment under the bus and jumped onboard.The bus was packed, as they all are these days. Used to be you could get the 'megabus' for a pound if you booked early enough. Now it's more like 20-30. Andy waved as the bus struggled up the hill and quickly out of sight. I wondered when I'd see him next. We started the wander home, feeling the one person less than before.


It's December and it's cold. The old georgian (and earlier) tall terraced houses are pretty here in Bristol, but they aren't warm.

School's much better though. The stress that had been growing amongst us with all the tests and mounds of homework has gone away - we've still got exams but thanks to the changes the local council has made, there's a lot more time to just explore - a lot of kids haven't got as much internet access so there's a couple of hours a week structured browsing - heavily monitored for naughty stuff! I've spent a fair amount of time just learning about the crisis and the things we can do to stay afloat - making clothes, cooking, growing! I've got lots of plans for the allotment next year. Things are looking up.


[Author's note: week 28.

As Mia's journal went on, Uncle Andy has become just as important a protagonist in my eyes, mainly because as an adult he's far more linked into the effects and changes of the world. Being on a terrorist-attacked tanker in the middle east doesn't hurt either, mind.

A couple of journals picking up on the political theme lately. Participating in wwo is no good unless we actually let our representatives know what problems may face us and that we as citizens want them to address them. Grassroots activism on this issue is important. My prize of a mix cd to anyone that contacts their representative and asks them about Peak Oil still stands - megiddo_tell comes closest so far - he sent an email to his Senator, Carl Levin! No idea if you want the cd but let me know the response!

French blogger and expert on energy and economics 'Jerome A Paris' has a great diary today on the way economics and the idea that 'greed is good' has shaped our world today, far too much. Daily Kos is a good port of call if you want to start getting involved with politics at a grassroots level. I'd suggest a corresponding right-wing site to go with this left-leaning one but as much of the world's problems have come from the right wing arm of US politics I don't think it would be appropriate.

His call to contact our representatives is a good one that I echo. Although wwo has been a great experience and told some amazing stories, there hasn't been enough coverage of the governmental handling of the crisis to really get a good picture on what's happening in the US on a broad scale. I tried to implement UK policies in Mia's story I thought would happen and effect her but I'd be even more fascinated to see what real politicians respond. I'm planning to email my MP Stephen Williams once my exams finish on thursday.]

I arrived home from college to find a familiar looking land rover parked at my gate. Dad's springer spaniel Jasper sat on the back seat, wagging his tail at me. The rest of the land rover was full of baggage and possessions. I didn't feel especially good about the situation but gave Jasper a quick wave and went into the house.

It could have been mistaken for a war zone by the things being shouted across in the kitchen. I could hear mum's voice raised and dad's familiar boom. I stood at the door, ear pressed to the wood, listening. Greg cut across the argument as I started to pick up on words.

"Look," he said, "You can't just come waltzing in here after all the time you've been away."

"And who do you think you are?" Dad said. "You're not her father."

"Are you?" Greg said. "You've hardly seen her in ten years. You don't support her. You rarely even call."

"She's my daughter," Dad said. "And she deserves to be given a new chance away from all this?"

"For Christ's sake Paul," Mum told him. "Do you really think it's any different in New Zealand? Even if you get into the country, it's just going to be the same problems. Nowhere is getting through this. The world's changed, Paul."

"You and your defeatist bullshit," Dad said. And as Greg protested, he cut across. "This is all the fault of our government. It's not as if oil prices went up that much. They're just using the opportunity to raise taxes and limit our freedoms, as usual.Me and Emma have had enough. Mia's coming with us."

I listened with horror at the door. They wanted me to go to New Zealand? I mean, no offense to those down under but I rather like it here! I started to open the door, ready to storm in and join the argument.

"I wouldn't love." I turned to see Uncle Andy standing at the foot of the stairs, looking down at me.

"but they want to send me away!"

"I don't think your dad's going to win this one, love. Come on." He walked past me and into the kitchen. I followed him in. My dad and his new wife Emma stood at one side of the table. Mum was sitting down, cradling a cup of tea. Greg stood near the stove, a glowering look of anger on his face. It was the most expressive I'd ever seen him.

"Mia!" Dad came over to me, arms wide, an unnaturally large grin on his face. His hair was cropped short and it made him look very different, much older and more careworn than his old shoulder length hair. His clothes were less hippyish too.

"Hello dad," I said, giving him a reluctant hug. He stood up and smiled.

"we've got some exciting news," he said.

"No," mum cut across, glaring at him, "we don't."

"Come now," dad said, "don't be like that."

"Paul!" Uncle Andy, who'd been pretty much ignored since he entered, thrust himself across the room, shaking dad's bewildered hand. "How are you doing? So did you sell the house and the farm then?"

Dad looked uncomfortable, and squirmed. Emma, a younger wife with one of those faces that looks like it's smelled something bad, looked even more affronted.

"No," Dad admitted. "Not yet."

"Couldn't find a buyer, huh?" Andy said, still shaking Dad's hand. "I suppose you're planning to sell it whilst you're out in New Zealand?"

"Of course," Emma said. Even her voice was haughty. "We know some very reputable Estate Agents that assure us house prices will have stablised in a few months."

Greg all but snorted into his drink. Andy's smile grew wider, in direct response to my dad's face growing ever more nervous.

"And New Zealand's just going to let you in?" Mum said.

"We have a lot of friends out there," Emma replied, making it very clear that we were not considered friends in quite the same way. "My father has already moved out there and he's making arrangements."

Arrangements sounded like it involved a lot of money. When Emma was involved it usually did. Mum always said Dad ran off with her because he loved the idea of a young fling that paid for him to go on holiday with her.

"So the phonelines are working out there," Andy said, "What with the crisis and all? I mean, you do have a plan for keeping track of the seller?"

"We've got a plan," Dad said, but he didn't look sure. "We've got a place to rent in New Zealand, for me and Emma and Mia."

"But I don't want to go!" I said, feeling like the luggage in the middle of some vast tug of war game. "Don't I get a say in this?"

"I'm your father," dad said. "Your mother hasn't exactly been taking good care of you, has she? She's had to start sleeping with the guy next door just to find somewhere for you all to live."

"Paul!" My mum said. Greg put down his mug and drew himself up to his full height, looking ready to punch dad right that minute.

"So you're saying," Andy said, seemingly oblivious to the growing tension in the room, "That you're going to take Mia because you don't think we can look after her properly, that we don't have the money?"

"Exactly," dad said. "I mean look at you - you get laid off and come running back here to sleep on her boyfriend's floor? She deserves better."

"I agree," Andy said. Dad looked oddly at him, starting to notice that the biting sarcasm wasn't getting through.

"So," Andy continued, reaching into his pocket, "What if I buy your farm off you?"

The room's atmosphere changed from tension to surprise. Everyone's eyes focused on Andy's hand as he pulled his wallet out of his pocket. It was much thicker than it should be. Thicker because it had a large roll of 50 pound notes in it.

"Uncle Andy..." I stared at the money. It was more than I'd ever seen in one place. "Where did you get that money?"

"That's what I'd like to know," mum said, exchanging a glance with Greg.

"The Oil company paid us off," Andy said, unrolling the bills. "Insurance. You get a lot if you're injured in a terrorist attack. More if you tell them you know about how lax their security was and that the papers would be fascinated."

We stared as he placed the roll of money into Dad's hands.

"£3,000." he said.

"I'm not selling you the farm for £3,000!" Dad and Emma shouted near simultaneously.

"That's to start." Andy said. "I'll pay you 30,000 more than the asking price. Cash. But you have to leave Mia here with us. That's the deal."

The look between Dad and Emma told the whole story. Andy reached over and squeezed my shoulder. He winked.

"It's all going to be alright love." He whispered.

I have no idea if that's true. But it certainly feels a lot more alright than it could have been.

[Author's note: week 27

This is an event I've been planning for a while, to begin wrapping up the story arc. It's a few days later than planned due to revision but here it is.]

Well, things in school don't look like they'll ever get back to this kind of stress. Our local exam board has scrapped the AS levels that were introduced for 17 year olds a few years ago. Someone came into class and told us they'd rather us spend a year learning productive real world activities than have another year of stressful examinations.

I've been more and more perplexed by the news from English Villager these last few weeks - I've been seeing such a different world to him. Whilst here in Bristol we are safe, it seems there's a few pockets where panic is the rule. The government is proclaiming that things are back under order but it seems some of the army have 'misinterpreted' their role in all this - to make some profit? It turns out that English villager believes these army officers may have gone rogue! How exotic! sounds like something out of an action movie but according to him that's how it is there.

He sent some relatives in a convoy to Bristol, apparently, counting on the stability here. I think those relatives got a big shock when they arrived, seeing how the crisis has calmed these last few weeks. Mum said it's more like the recession of the eighties now - lots of people are out of jobs and unhappy but the violence has gone to much lower levels - it's still much higher than in the past but it's back to being crime rather than disorder - localised rather than everywhere.

I haven't seen them yet. It's a big city and a few cars is going to get lost in the midst of it all. I hope they made it here ok, and that english villager gets out of there too. When I told Uncle Andy about it he said it sounded like an episode of the Twilight Zone...

It's nice to see someone from Manchester posting. I hadn't heard much from there and from Birmingham, but if he's doing ok then hopefully things are evening out. Certainly the overwhelming majority of people seem to be ok now - we're adjusting, we're poorer but we've survived...

Transition Towns are running daily meetings, coordinating with central government. Uncle Andy's been so hyperactive since he confessed what happened in the middle east and hes been helping that a lot. More and more places are having cheap old radiators put on their roofs to heat water - and Greg's out all day and night fitting solar panels. The downs, which used to be a common land, are rapidly being dug up and the grass replaced by allotments, which have been assigned to the people signing up - first come first served, and heavily policed! We managed to snag a plot within walking distance of the house. Andy immediately went to fence our portion off - It's too late in the year to do much with it but come spring we're already planning what that little eighth of an acre will do for us.

It's getting colder. Lots of wool being imported from Wales and sold in rations, for people to make their own jumpers. There's even a lunchtime class for it in college. We probably won't be able to get gas for the boiler, what with Russia playing up about it. Greg said his company will get us a good solar water heater but that we wouldn't be able to power the radiators with it. I hope this summer isn't too cold, or we're going to be very very ill

Other than that, things aren't looking too bad!

-Mia

[author note: week 22. Again, not as in depth as I wanted due to too much revision. Expect similar tomorrow but after that I'm hoping to explore a few things before the project ends next week.]

Very quiet here. Fuel prices stayed the same again, as people settled down into a rhythm of the new way of life: more expensive to get around, more expensive to buy things from further away, but otherwise life goes on.

School has subtly changed since I went back. College is advising people not to take a fourth A-level (you need at least three for most unis) - instead they're offering 'life' skills. It's part of a new initiative by the local council and the transition towns project - teach us practical skills now that it's harder to produce stuff industrially, I guess.

Feeling like primary school kids, we went blackberry picking with our chemistry class, and our teacher taught us how to make jam. What a far cry from burettes and sodium hydroxide! In a few weeks he said we can take a pot home. It felt good to be using something that was just lying around waiting to be utilised. We've also got some DIY lessons on keeping things working, keeping water clean and even a little cooking! It's nice to have an hour or two doing less book-related stuff, that's for sure.

Uncle Andy's much better since he broke down last week. He's a little bit more like his old self, buzzing around the house doing odd jobs, converting parts that don't work, even making a Cantenna for wifi! The oil company gave him a little money to be getting on with and he said that he wants to use it to make his life (and ours) self-sufficient.

I bugged him to give me links to the things he was building: Solar Still and Cantenna instructions!

Things seem to be calmer around the world too, which makes me happy. It was hard listening to so many Netizens talk about violence and suffering - I hope the worst is over. It's like they say about poverty - it takes three months to get used to it. Well, we're it's been 5 months now. Maybe we can settle into a rhythm and survive as we are. I hope so.

But I'll still be looking over my shoulder for trouble after all that's happened.

-Mia


[author note: week 21. Just a small one today as I'm revising particle physics for my tuesday exam.

thanks to will without oil for taking up my congress-reporting challenge. From the wwotexts, here's another great example of netizens coming up with realistic pictures of how life (and politics) still goes on.

Again, via Daily Kos, here's a diary from today that details what americans today can do to help the way agriculture works in your country. People not having enough food has been seen frequently in the story of wwo and this farm bill essentially decides what American farmers grow - at the moment the tax and subsidy section of the farm bill is heavily weighted towards corn and other staples for ethanol and cheap foodstuffs. However, if enough people get involved at a grassroots level and encourage politicians to change the bill, these subsidies could be much changed to favour smaller, organic and local food producers instead of the huge national companies and giant mechanised farms producing factory-chickens and the like. Not only will this mean better quality food, it will also make it far more profitable to be a small farmer - reducing the dependence on massive corporations that ship food for thousand of miles to be sold - and producing more small farm jobs in the process. Not liking some of the horror stories about food in wwo? This daily kos diary details what is perhaps the most important way to change things before a real crisis comes along.

This video series about a group of youngsters studying in Iraq is a great example of what life after a crisis would be like - sure, things will be bad, but life goes on. You can do all you can to try and escape the worst of it, but in the end you have to settle with it and move on, even with the problems all around you.]

turns out I couldn't phone dad on skype. We had a blackout Saturday like this one in London. Was a little frustrating to be without the internet, just as I'd started getting interested in finding out just what was going on with this oil crisis.

Greg from next door came around to eat on our camping stove. He works in electronics and he gave us a couple of those wind-up torches. We played monopoly for a bit but David went off in a strop when he lost. Mum blushes when she talks to Greg. I think she likes him. I'm not sure whether that makes me angry or not.

The gig I was going to see next month for my 16th birthday has been cancelled. Jonah Matranga said he couldn't afford the air fare to get out to the UK. I was really looking forward to that.

We had some bad news on Monday. Uncle Andy works on a tanker transporting oil from the middle east to Portsmouth. His ship left Dubai a week ago and was heading back to the UK. Whilst they passed Yemen, a small boat came up to the side of the tanker and exploded. No one's claimed responsibility but a lot of people's thoughts are on Al Quaeda. The picture of the tanker with tons of oil and fire pouring out of it looks like something out of that terrible Kevin Costner movie. Waterworld? I hope it doesn't sink. Just think of all the animals around there.

We heard about it on the news, of course - we just didn't think it would be Andy's ship until mum got the call. He's ok - they got everyone off the ship pretty quick - but he's in some terrible hospital and doesn't know when he'll be back. Mum stayed out at Greg's that night.

I went on the computer to phone dad again but he wasn't online. I keep getting worried about staying in Bristol - the papers keep talking about all the burglaries and car thefts increasing. I want to go see dad in Wales - there's no one around for miles and there's plenty of food. A lot of this online stuff is pretty pessimistic - for all mum's stockpiling of rice and toilet paper, will we be able to hold up if everything goes crazy?




[writer's note: week 8, Wednesday

I originally intended to have the tanker captured but figured this would be impractical and unlikely. Instead I based my incident around this one in 2002.

Of course, though I don't want to ruin the perspective in my story by overly analysing something Mia wouldn't fully grasp, this incident could have major implications for oil and share prices and as the ship was carrying gasoline to the UK, prices here can expect to rise as a major proportion of incoming supply is removed.

(This is a fictional account from the fantastic alternative reality game World Without Oil join in! )]