Mr Applegate touched a panel on his desk and the opening bars of Jeremiah Clarke’s Trumpet Voluntary filled the room. The students all turned their holochairs to face the teacher, who touched the desk panel again and silence descended on the tutespace.
“In today’s history tute,” Mr Applegate said, “we are going to look at the profound changes which occurred in 2127. Who can tell me what happened in that year?”
The holo-halo on Beckie Bertlesmeier’s chair lit first. “Yes, Beckie?” said Mr Applegate. “It was the 100th anniversary of Tasmania’s first AFL flag,” she said.
The class applauded.
“It was the 99th anniversary of Tasmania’s 2028 flag and the 98th anniversary of their 2029 flag,” shouted Larry Ling. The class cheered and broke into the first verse of the Tasmanian Davids’ AFL team song, “Oh, oh, they called us small, but we’re here to stay; we started late, for that fate you’ll pay …” sung to the tune, of course, of Trumpet Voluntary.
Mr Applegate touched his desk, Clarke’s beautiful music soared, and the class switched at once to sing in time with the music. Mr Applegate realised his mistake and rapidly rekeyed a desk panel, pushed it, and the Collingwood theme song burst forth. The class went silent.
“Thank you,” said Mr Applegate, shutting off the deskaudio and waving a finger at two or three of the children who had started to boo. “The year 2127 was a momentous one for the galaxy in terms of social, economic and political change. Can anyone tell me what happened?”
The holo-halo of Larry Ling flashed. “The Oatlands Accord was signed,” he said.
“That’s right, Larry,” said Mr Applegate. “Now who can tell me what the Oatlands Accord represented?”
“Oatlands replacing Canberra as the capital of Australia?” asked Scratchy Scrimknuckle. “That was 50 years earlier,” said Daisy Wooreddy. “The answer is the reconciliation between the western and eastern quadrants of the Milky Way.”
“Excellent, Daisy,” said Mr Applegate. “It was a reconciliation some thought could never happen after billions of years of bitter enmity. Can anyone tell me what inspired the peace process?”
“Aussie rules football,” said Ruby Cinquecento.
“Not quite, Ruby,” said the teacher. “It’s true that AFL expansion teams were created in both quadrants, but that happened some time later, and both had to start in Division 42 anyway.”
“Didn’t it have something to do with Launceston and Hobart? Didn’t they used to disagree too?” asked Daisy.
“Why would two Tassie suburbs influence intergalactic sociopolitical reconciliation?” asked Ruby.
“Huh?” said Scratchy.
“Because they weren’t always suburbs of Greater Oatlands,” said Mr Appelgate. “Once upon a time, before they were joined by the Oatlands urban sprawl, they were separate cities and both hosted AFL matches.”
“Tasmania had two AFL teams?” asked Ruby.
“Sort of,” said Mr Applegate. “In fact they were teams based elsewhere playing games in Tasmania with the blessing of local authorities embracing a business model which made the partnerships an economic win for everyone.”
“Huh?” said Scratchy.
“How could everyone be happy if neither of the teams was Tassie-based?” asked Beckie.
“That,” said Mr Appelgate, “is what the children of the day asked too. Why, they wanted to know, could kids in major urban centres in the rest of the country have the own AFL team to follow and watch every second weekend or so, and the children of Tasmania could not.”
“Yeah, why?” asked Scratchy.
“Well, those asking that question grew louder and more strident, but no answer was found until, finally, perhaps shamed by the pleading of their children, one day everyone concerned came together and determined to find a solution. The result was the Oatlands Treaty. It had the support of Launceston and Hobart councils and, subsequently, the backing of all Tasmanian politicians and business leaders and citizens. The Treaty had just nine words. Do you know what they were?”
“If you build it at Oatlands, they will come,” said Larry, who was the fastest in the class at blinking searches into his retina-operated search engine.
“Correct,” said Mr Appelgate. “And they did build it, in a village in the heart of the football heartland of Tasmania. They called it AFL Megapark and they linked it by superfast train south to Hobart and north to Launceston and on through Devonport to Burnie. And so started the economic miracle which eventually saw Oatlands become Australia’s biggest city.”
“It’s hard to imagine Oatlands without AFL Megapark,” said Ruby.
“And then,” Mr Appelgate continued, “many years later, far, far away in the centre of the galaxy, this little-known treaty from Earth was brought to the attention of great decision makers and became the blueprint for intergalactic reconciliation.”
“They built a footy stadium?” asked Scratchy.
“Not quite,” said Mr Appelgate, “although I suppose they built an edifice. The Oatlands Accord, as they named it, is a mighty foundation for human agreement, recognising the power of negotiation and compromise and the indomitable determination of public spirit.”
“I thought you said it was because Tasmanian kids wanted it,” said Scratchy.
“That most of all,” said Mr Appelgate.
Chris Champion is the editor of Forty South Tasmania and a director of Forty South Publishing. He has worked as an editor and writer in Australia and Asia for more than 40 years.