"Uncle Paul, it’s too dangerous," Barrett said.

As if to prove the point, lightning sizzled through the charged air. A deafening thunder clap followed almost immediately.

The man’s red beard bristled as he glared a challenge at the sky. "I’m not afraid of Nature’s fireworks."

Earlier, when the harvesters had gone inside for lunch, the wheat field had been bathed in sunshine, although purple-black clouds had been massing behind the hills. Now those clouds boiled with menace directly overhead, hungry tongues of lightning flickering.

Renquist’s thin face was creased with worry. "Leader Paul, Barrett’s right. It is too dangerous to go out into the open. Wait here until the storm passes."

Several others in the group murmured agreement. "Remember the cattle killed by a lightning strike last year," someone said.

The red-bearded man shook himself free from Renquist’s detaining hand. "It’s a dry storm, moving quickly. By the time I’ve started the tractor, it will have passed."

He stomped off in the direction of the farm machinery in the middle of the paddock.

"Uncle Paul!" the boy called, but his voice was drowned by a mighty crack of thunder.

Renquist said, "Barrett, you stay here. All of us will wait until it’s safe."

Wind howled through the trees sheltering the compound. A few fat drops of rain splattered onto the dusty ground. Ignoring this, the stout figure plodded toward the tractor.

The blinding flash and deafening crack were simultaneous. Ears were set ringing. A strange metallic smell filled the air. When, blinking, they could see again, the man had disappeared.

With a hiss, the rain began.

They found him spread-eagled in the wheat. Grunting with his dead weight, they carried the body back through the pelting rain. There was a scorch mark down one side of his face and his ginger whiskers were seared, but otherwise he looked as if in peaceful sleep.

As second in command, Renquist now automatically became Leader Renquist. After the bell had tolled to signify a death in the community, Leader Renquist directed that the body be washed, dressed in white overalls, and placed in a plain wooden coffin. This would lie open in the church for at least a day to allow mourners to pay their respects to the man who had founded the community and led them for so many years.

Once the body was placed in the front of the church, Renquist took the boy aside. "I must contact your uncle’s sister. I believe she’s your only living relative. Decisions have to be made about your future."

"Decisions? I’ll stay here at Simplicity, won’t I?"

"That’s for your aunt to say."

"But I’ve never even met her."

Renquist patted his shoulder consolingly. "It’s likely she’ll have no interest in moving you to the city."

The fatal lightning strike occurred on a Thursday. On Saturday Barrett’s aunt, Kara Trent, came to Simplicity.

"Fifty meters to your left is the intersection you require," prompted the Nav system. Its artificial voice remained cheerful as it added, "Extreme caution is advised. This is a designated Code Thirteen Rural Route."

"Thirteen?" I said. "I’ve never been on anything worse than Code Three."

"Then it will be a new experience for you," said my mother dryly, as she turned off the highway onto a narrow dirt track.

Although we were in Mum’s latest luxury sedan, the vibration from the rutted dirt surface was still enough to loosen teeth. Twisting around, I could see clouds of brown dust billowing behind us. We were in the middle of absolutely nowhere, surrounded by boring bushland. The only sign of life was a black crow flapping overhead. Complete drekdom.

"Remind me again why I’m here, Mum."

"Don’t start, Taylor."

Typical. My mother’s a total tyrant who always gets her own way. I dug around in my bag and grabbed my Om. I’d call Gabi and send her a photo of this unbelievable dirt road we were bouncing along.

My mother glanced over at me, frowning. "Put that away. You can last five minutes without communicating with your friends. Besides, we’re almost there."

I shoved my Om back in my bag and glared at the Nav’s screen on the dashboard. She was right. The display showed our car as a moving red dot almost at the end of a winding road that petered out in blank nothingness. Actually there was something there. That’d be Simplicity Centre, this strange ecological place that my uncle started a zillion years ago. I’d never visited Simplicity, and had no interest in it whatsoever, but this morning my mother had insisted I keep her company.

A few more dumb trees swished by. "This is booooring." No reply. "I still don’t see why you had to drag me along," I said, knowing the whine in my voice was practically guaranteed to put Mum’s teeth on edge. "You know I wanted to go with Gabi this afternoon to the auditions for Ugly-D to Teen Queen."

Mum clicked her tongue impatiently. "Neither you nor Gabi by any stretch of the imagination can be described as an ugly duckling in need of a makeover."

"Gabi’s always saying her nose is too big. She’d jump at a chance to have a new one for nothing."

My mother glanced over at me with a thin smile. "And what about you? Is there something you’d change about yourself?"

I had to think about that. My parents had already sprung for plastic surgery to reshape my chin. "I’d like longer legs," I said.

"We’ve discussed this before. You’re not getting extension implants."

Folding my arms, I sank down as low as I could in the seat. "Being a contestant on Ugly-D would be so great. You get a complete makeover from head to toe, and everybody watches the show, so you end up famous. And the winner, the Teen Queen, gets to star in a movie, guaranteed."

My mother acted like she hadn’t heard a word I’d said. "Taylor, I’m expecting you to behave appropriately when we arrive at Simplicity Centre."

"Yeah, yeah."

My mother shot me one of her laser looks. "We’re here to pay our respects to my brother, your uncle. And don’t bother to say you’ve never met him—I know that. The point is your cousin has no one but us. We’re Barrett’s only living relatives."

Like I cared? "Barrett," I said. "Dumb name."

That got me another freezing glance. "He’s just lost the person who’s brought him up since he was a baby. I imagine he’s grieving."

"Boo hoo."

"Taylor..."

I was suddenly embarrassed with myself. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what it must be like to lose someone really close. "All right," I said, "I’ll be nice." An awful thought struck me. "You’re not going to tell me we’re taking him home with us, are you?"

"It’s possible."

"Mum, you’ve got to be joking! Like, he’s a farmie. Can you see him fitting in?"

"Not another word, Taylor. It’s nothing to do with you."

"If he’s going to live in our house, it’s everything to do with me."

"The subject’s closed."

Typical! I turned my head away and stared out the window. The bush had given way to paddocks, fenced with barbed wire. I saw a herd of black and white cows, then we turned a corner and the road ended. A high barred gate faced us. On it was a large sign. Black letters on a stark white background read:

Simplicity Centre

Trespassers will be FORCIBLY removed

"This is going to be fun, fun, fun," I said, half under my breath. Mum ignored me.

My name is Barrett Trent. I became an orphan when I was almost eight months old. I’d been in the back seat in a baby restraint when they’d collided head-on with a truck that had veered onto the wrong side of the mountain road. My mother and father died instantly. So did the truck driver. I was unhurt.

It’s impossible, I suppose, but sometimes I think I can remember the glaring headlights, the screech of brakes, the rending crash, and then silence, broken by my thin cry.

I’d been left in the world with only two close relatives—my father’s brother and sister, Paul and Kara. Uncle Paul was the one to take me in and bring me up. My Aunt Kara I had never met. Until today.

She’d arrived in a long black vehicle that looked totally out of place at Simplicity, where all we had was farm machinery and battered pickup trucks. Under the layer of dust, words glowed in luminescent red, moving continuously around Aunt Kara’s car like an endless ribbon unrolling:

Ads-4-Life Council ... Improving Your World Every Day

The name, Ads-4-Life Council, was familiar to me. My uncle had spent many hours warning me about the role of advertising in the Chattering World. He’d been particularly scathing about the influential lobbying organization his sister headed, the Ads-4-Life Council.

When I met my aunt and cousin, I tried to be courteous, and not stare. They both wore jewellery, which was discouraged at Simplicity, and I’d never seen embarrassingly tight outfits like the ones they were wearing. My Aunt Kara looked a bit like me, only thinner. My cousin, Taylor, was skinny too. She’d missed the red hair in the family. Hers was brown with lighter streaks, and she wore it in an odd system of plaited strands with purple ribbon threaded through it.

Aunt Kara looked around, her hands on her hips. From her expression, she didn’t find the view pleasing. "I suppose I’d better see my brother. I understand there’s to be a service of some sort."

"We were waiting for your arrival," said Jane-Marie. "The funeral ceremony is scheduled for two o’clock this afternoon. I hope that suits you?" She waited until Aunt Kara nodded assent, then gestured toward our chapel. "Would you come this way?"

"Don’t trouble yourself. Barrett can take us."

"Oh, of course." Jane-Marie’s shoulders slumped. I knew she dearly loved to be involved in anything interesting, and on an interest scale of one to ten, my aunt and cousin rated at least eleven. Not only did they come from the forbidden outside world in a luxurious vehicle, the like of which we’d never seen here before, they were also wearing bright colours. Aunt Kara dazzled in eye-popping red and my cousin in a deep purple tunic. No one at Simplicity ever wore anything so intense. Our clothes were all in muted shades.

"Please accompany us," I said. Cousin Taylor wrinkled her nose and muttered something under her breath, apparently not impressed by Jane-Marie, which was a pity, because she was one of the kindest people I knew.

"I’ll stay in the car," my cousin announced.

"You’ll come with us," Aunt Kara said. From her tone it seemed she was used to being obeyed instantly.

Taylor mumbled something, then, pouting, dawdled along behind as we set of towards the chapel.

There was no one inside...well, no one alive. Uncle Paul lay in his plain wooden coffin. Even from the doorway I could see the great beak of his nose jutting into the air. Jane-Marie slid into a pew at the back and sank to her knees to pray.

Aunt Kara didn’t hesitate, but marched up and stood looking down at her brother. Taylor waited at the doorway, looking rather sick.

I felt sorry for her. It was a shock the first time you saw someone from whom the life had fled. Myself, I’d seen several dead bodies, and assisted in preparations for burial. Just a few hours earlier I’d washed Uncle Paul, dressed him in his best overalls, combed his beard and hair, and with the help of Leader Renquist, lifted him into his coffin.

"Cousin, are you all right?" I asked.

"I’m fine." She was half a head below my height, and she glared up at me as though I’d done something wrong. I liked her dark grey eyes. Folding her arms, she leaned against the side of the doorway. "I’ll stay here."

After a moment I walked up the aisle and joined my aunt. I slid my eyes sideways, wondering if she’d cry. It didn’t seem likely.

"Surely Paul should have been dressed in a suit," she said, frowning at the overalls on my uncle’s body.

"We don’t have formal clothing at Simplicity."

She gave an irritated sigh. "And what in the hell was Paul doing out in the middle of a thunderstorm? My brother always was pigheaded. I suppose someone warned him not to go out, so he did." This was so close to the truth, I almost smiled.

She gave me an appraising look. "Well, Barrett, I can say this—you don’t seem very upset."

"I’m sorry Uncle Paul is dead."

Inwardly, I was guilty I didn’t feel more. What I did feel was a sort of emptiness, I suppose because Uncle Paul had had so much influence on my life. Of course I regretted that he’d been killed, but he’d been a cold man who had never permitted argument or discussion about his views, being convinced he was always right. And he had rarely missed an opportunity to tell me how lucky I was that he’d taken me in, a helpless infant who, without his intervention, would likely would have gone to a foster home in the Chattering World.

"You would have ended up with strangers," Uncle Paul often said. "Your aunt, Kara, wouldn’t have taken you. She’s not inclined to be charitable, at least, not unless there’s something in it for her."

My aunt gave a last glance at Uncle Paul’s face, and turned to leave. "I suppose I can hardly fail to attend my brother’s funeral. In the meantime, you can show me around Simplicity Centre."

000

"I gather this Simplicity cult my brother started doesn’t use any of the electronic devices of the modern world. Yes?" Aunt Kara said.

"That’s correct."

She peered at me. "Have you ever seen a television program?"

I shook my head. Taylor snickered.

"Never?"

"Never."

She seemed pleased. "How about radio?"

"No."

"Recorded music? Computers? Interactive games?"

"Nothing like that, although in theory I understand how most of them operate."

"You do? How did that come about?"

"Uncle Paul said to defeat evil you must know its ways."

Hands on hips, my aunt threw back her head and laughed. "Evil? How typical of my brother. He always was paranoid about mind control. Ironic, really, since that’s what he’s done to you. He’s manipulated what you think and feel by depriving you of all the comforts of modern life."

"You poor thing," said Taylor, rolling her eyes.

They didn’t understand. I felt the need to explain what Simplicity stood for. "Uncle Paul developed the philosophy of the uncomplicated existence. Plain living in tune with nature. Simplicity in all things. He believed the world outside not only destroyed the ecosystem, but it also destroyed one’s peace of mind, one’s essential core."

Aunt Kara tilted her head, looking at me with narrowed eyes. "Do you always talk this way?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Like you’re reading out of some old book?"

I raised my shoulders. "It was the way I was taught."

She gave me a cool, almost calculating look. "Do you know what advertisements are?"

"Public announcements designed to sell something to as many people as possible."

"Have you ever seen a print ad? In a magazine perhaps? Or newspaper?"

"We don’t have newspapers or magazines at Simplicity."

She leaned closer to me, so I could smell her perfume. It had a musky scent I didn’t particularly like. "Barrett, you’re telling me you’ve never, ever seen an ad?"

"We barter eggs or grain for items we can’t make ourselves, so sometimes I’ve seen what you might call advertisements on the side of trucks when someone from the outside has come to trade."

"Apart from that, you’ve never seen an ad. Is that correct?"

"I know what advertisements are," I said. "Uncle Paul explained how they use the techniques of persuasion."

Aunt Kara nodded, satisfied. "It’s clear you’re an ad virgin. Now, how about computers, handheld or otherwise?"

"I’ve never seen one."

"Unbelievable!" said Taylor, rolling her eyes again.

My aunt beamed at me. "I believe I’ll find your reactions to the modern world very, very interesting, Barrett."

"Mum! You’re not! You can’t..."

Ignoring her, Aunt Kara said to me, "How long will it take you to pack your things?"

My stomach clenched. "I was hoping to stay here at Simplicity, Aunt Kara."

"I’m afraid that’s impossible. You’re coming home with us."

"But—"

"Don’t bother arguing," Taylor said. "You’ll find my mother always gets her own way. Give in. It’s easier."

Aunt Kara checked her watch. "You’ll have time to get your things together before the service. I’ll speak with the new head of your cult. Renquist’s his name, isn’t it?"

"Yes, Leader Renquist. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind me staying—"

"Not an option, Barrett. I’ll explain to Renquist you’re leaving to be with your family. While I’m doing that, pack only what’s absolutely necessary." She looked me over. "You won’t need much. Any clothes like the ones you’re wearing, for example, are totally unsuitable." Her glance went to my feet. Grimacing, she added, "And the boots most definitely can be left behind."

Feeling a sting of resentment at her disparaging words, I said, "I only have boots. Unless you want me barefoot...?"

My tone, I knew, was close to disrespectful. Cousin Taylor shot me a surprised look. Aunt Kara gave a small, tight smile. "So you have some spirit. I’m pleased to see it. Now, please give me directions to find Renquist, then go and pack your things. We’ll leave directly after my brother’s funeral."

Although the sun was still shining outside, the day seemed suddenly grey and depressing. How could I say goodbye to everyone at Simplicity? And what about Jessica?

"My friends—" I began.

"You’ll make new friends," my aunt said briskly. "Change is good. It leads to personal growth. You’re used to a situation where everything is static, inflexible. The world you’re about to join is so much more exciting and challenging."

"Aunt Kara, truthfully, I’d rather stay at Simplicity."

"I’m sorry," she said. There was no sympathy in her voice or on her face. "It’s understandable you want to cling to the familiar, but you’re in no position to judge what’s best for you. I am."

I felt as though a huge weight was crushing me down. It was obviously fruitless to continue protesting. My aunt was implacable. She would never change her mind.