Like I proposed the year is 3,012 and our world has changed; in more ways than we could ever
have guessed. What has happened in a 1,000 years since our last printing press printed these
Doomed in Darkness BUT there is a light at the end of the tunnel. We are saved.
The Darkest night of the year has become the darkest night of our whole lives. The wind has
ripped down power lines every where. We of the Free Press will continue to reach out to all who
may still be around. Get out of the cities. Couriers are ranging far and wide sharing news as
it comes to us. Medicine is hard to find, as are doctors and nurses with hospitals closed down
by the flood and snow storm that hit North America Dec. 21, 2012.
Those chilling words, all in one small paragraph written such a long time ago when fear was
fear for all. Darkness and light caught together even as we learned we were going to live.
We survived. Slowly. We are finding people whom have saved for these days. They have harvested
seeds for hundreds of years in their families and communities. Amazing is the good will among
all people. We are growing gardens in green houses designed and created by Switzerland with
seeds from Canada. As we see life grow and feel the dirt between our fingers we laugh out loud
because it feels so good.
The Free Press is printed on birch bark now, much as early stories were told in writings and
drawings many, many years ago. The couriers carry the news as well as seedlings, oxygen
purifiers and water cleansers throughout the country. We are doing well. People are falling in
love again over bouquets of broccoli and bunches of carrots. What a hoot. We have all learned
how to laugh and to enjoy life in this moment.
I am a courier some weeks, traveling from the shores of Hudson Bay which now are deep into
what was once Saskatchewan, to the low rocky mountains and back again. We use horses to travel
as we ran out of car fuels a long, long time ago. Odd how some names have stuck with us; like
The Free Press and Hudson Bay. I met a man in the Yukon years ago who told tales of times when
wild animals roamed freely over North America and birds flew in flocks in migration patterns
they had known for years. He said he would be coming our way soon, but that was 2 summers ago.
A shadow has fallen over my shoulder as I write. I wonder what it is. He is here, the man from
the Yukon. I am so surprised and yet I knew he would find me one day. Alas 2 years 1 day and 14
hours have passed. I hope he remembers me. As I rise and turn into the light I feel alive and
very, very well.