CHAPTER THREE
It’s common knowledge that we were once visited by alien beings from another planet or solar system or wherever they came from. They were also responsible for our partial demise. Whatever happened over Northern Italy involved them visiting us. But that was twenty years ago, and while many saw their flying machines hovering over southern Scotland, we all have had more pressing needs and concerns. My dad said that I saw one of these machines, but I don’t remember. I was only three-years-old. I don’t even remember the firestorm, and neither does 34% of the population, who were born after May 2014.
I’m English by birth but my home is now Scotland. There was once a love-hate relationship between the Scots and us Sassenachs, but all that changed. Rarely is the presence of the English bitterly contested. We lost everything, including our families and England itself. But what we lost was lovingly replaced with a beautiful landscape and those who became our friends and lovers. They became our new families and that kept us refugees going.
And me? I’ve spent three years at university and now what? We didn’t have career advisors at school. The unemployed rate in Scotland is around 28%, but the definition of someone being unemployed is rather convoluted. In 2025 the monetary system was reintroduced. New bank notes replaced those discarded in the days, weeks and months following the firestorm. The good news is that the new system works. Food is now plentiful and everyone works with one goal in mind - that of making Scotland a better place to live. But we remember the dead and the suffering.
I shall look after my dad and work on the farm. It’s hard work but rewarding and I get to meet my old friends from school, but then what?
Sadly our experiments in photography proved futile. I‘m told it was either the camera that was faulty or the chemicals used were too diluted. I trust the person who tried to develop the film, but not my ability to mix the developer! Even now I’m kicking myself. I wanted to show dad where my mum is buried and now I can’t. We are planning a return journey but it might be too late for dad.
Since returning from England we have become aware that others are as keen on us as we are on finding the truth about John Smith. The official line is one of openness or ignorance, but why the cloak and dagger antics? We’ve had our post intercepted (they didn’t even try to hide the fact) and friends have been warned against getting involved. But we appear to have our allies who are more accustomed to such skulduggery. Without them John Smith would remain an enigma and the final resting place of my mum would have also remained a mystery.
Then one final hand-delivered package from a sympathetic, yet anonymous supporter. I know not where the accompanying typed report and hand-written account by John Smith came from, but they appear to have been kept by an unknown government organisation or department - hence the “TOP SECRET” tag. Both are reproduced here:
Me thinks "The Lost Diaries of John Smith" would make an excellent TV series! I'm just saying...
As with all my Steemit content, this post and my book "The Lost Diaries of John Smith" are the copyright of Phillip Rhodes (c) 2011-2017.
