Four hours north of Sydney, deep in the bush, I recently spent a weekend at a men's camping retreat. No phone reception, no distractions. Just campfires, conversations and a couple of days away from the digital world.

At the end of the weekend, a collection bucket was passed around for a good cause.

And that's when we discovered a problem.

Nobody had any money.

We were a group of reasonably solvent grown men, perfectly willing to contribute. But as the bucket made its way around the circle, it became increasingly apparent that almost nobody had any of the folding stuff in their pocket.

We had money in our bank accounts. We had credit cards and phones capable of transferring it anywhere in the world in seconds. What we didn't have was any actual money.

And with no phone reception, our collective purchasing power was approximately zero.

The bucket remained embarrassingly empty.

It was the first time in years I'd genuinely missed cash.

The disappearing dollar

I can't remember the last time I visited an ATM. I rarely carry a wallet, let alone banknotes. My phone has become my bank, my credit card and, increasingly, my entire financial existence.

(In fact, my entire existence. But that’s another story…)

And I'm not complaining. I love the convenience.

Earlier this year I spent eight weeks travelling around Europe without once needing to exchange currency. No travellers' cheques, no calculating exchange rates in my head, no returning home with a pocketful of coins that would sit in a drawer for the next decade.
Just tap and go.

Compare that with travelling in the 1990s, when obtaining foreign currency was practically a holiday activity in itself. You'd visit the bank, collect your money, care-fully divide it between various pockets and spend the rest of the trip worrying about being robbed.

Back home, the disappearance of cash has been equally dramatic.

Remember the jar of loose change that used to sit on the table by the front door? Mine was once a thriving little economy of gold and silver coins, occasionally raid-ed for coffee, newspapers or emergency chocolate.

Now the jar just holds those foreign coins from bygone years. Francs anyone?

And spare a thought for the humble $50 note. Once a welcome sight on payday, it now feels vaguely suspicious, as though anyone producing one must be involved in organised crime.

Of course, there's one place where cash occasionally makes an unexpected come-back: the local takeaway that doesn't accept cards.
Suddenly you're hunting for an ATM like it's a 1997 pub crawl.

The price of convenience

But behind the jokes, there are some serious questions about our increasingly cashless society.

For many people, particularly older Australians, cash remains an important way of managing money. It's tangible. You can see what you've got, what you've spent and what's left.

There's something psychologically different about handing over a $50 note com-pared with tapping a screen. One feels like spending a lot of money. The other barely registers.

Cash also offers privacy, independence and a way to pay when electronic systems fail.

And not everybody has a smartphone, a bank account or the confidence to navigate an increasingly digital economy.

Then there's the curious business of card surcharges.

We've spent years being encouraged to abandon cash, only to discover that paying electronically attracts an additional fee. That was fine when cards were the minority, but now we’re all using cards, and the surcharge is still there.

It's a bit like being persuaded to stop driving, then being charged extra to catch the bus.

I'm not suggesting we abandon electronic payments. Quite the opposite. I love them, and I suspect most of us would struggle to return to the days of counting coins at supermarket checkouts.

But perhaps convenience has made us a little complacent.

We've enthusiastically embraced a system that works brilliantly almost all the time, without giving much thought to what happens when it doesn't.

And there's a broader lesson in that. Progress doesn't always mean the old way has become completely useless.

Sometimes the things we discard turn out to have qualities we didn't fully appreciate.

Which brings me back to that collection bucket in the bush.

A group of men, gathered around a campfire, wanting to do something generous and discovering that none of us could manage it without a functioning mobile phone.

Next time I go camping, I'll take some cash.

If I can remember where to get it.

Yippee, no more annoying credit card surcharges: Did you fall for that?

Typical merchant fees charged by the likes of Visa and Mastercard to businesses range from 0.5% to 2.75% of the purchase. Fees are based on turnover, so smaller retailers pay more while the large retailers pay less.

Until the end of 2002, Visa and Mastercard rules prevented merchants from discriminating between cash and card purchases by imposing surcharges. The banks understood perfectly well how surcharges would become a disincentive to shop with a card.

The problem with such a ban was that it discriminated against consumers who paid in cash. Cash shoppers were effectively subsidising those paying by card.

Loyalty schemes like frequent flyer points gave consumers incentives to use cards, but this simply added extra cost for consumers who used cash.

So in January 2003 the RBA required Visa and MasterCard to drop the restrictions on surcharges. Amex and Diners gave voluntary undertakings to do the same. Presumably due to fear of missing out.

According to my recollection very few retailers imposed surcharges immediately. But over the years as inflation set in. Merchants began adding surcharges.

Banks aggressively promoted loyalty programs to make shoppers focus on frequent flyer points, instead of surcharges, and for many that worked.

But some shoppers were more interested in the savings and started using cash.

Banks didn't like that.

Banks make a lot of money from merchant fees. Not only the fee itself, but also from the savings of not having to handle cash.

Have you noticed how many branches have closed?

Government Intervention

Payment Systems (Regulation) Standards (Merchant Card Payment Costs and Surcharging) Variation 2026.

The Albanese government proposed action on debit card surcharges in October 2024. The RBA decided to include credit cards, and the card networks’ ban took effect on 1 October 2026.

Yes, you read that correctly.

This legislation was sold as a win for consumers. Jim Chalmers cited cost of living as a reason for banning the surcharges.

Pure narrative of course, for retailers are not silly. Prices were immediately inflated to cover the extra cost and once again cash and EFTPOS shoppers are subsidising credit cards.

On surcharges, the banking lobby got exactly what it wanted. Visa and Mastercard could once again stop a retailer adding a fee at the till.

They got back everything they lost in 2003. Only this time it wasn't a fine print in their terms and conditions, it was federal legislation.

The banking lobby's position is well documented, they supported the ban all the way.

Another win for the banks and a loss for consumers paing in cash.

Australian cricket is at the crossroads and the problems surrounding our national men’s Test run far deeper than a couple of disappointing batting performances or a couple of disappointing tactical calls.

The recent tour of South Africa, most noticeably the last two tests has left Cricket Australia with a migraine-sized headache and some massive decisions about the future direction of our national side.

Once the dominant force in world cricket, Australia now risks losing its position as one of the top test sides and now faces an uphill battle to play in their third straight Test World Championship Final.

The big challenge for the men in charge of Cricket Australia is where to we go from here?

It is easy to blame the form of players like Nic Maddison or Marnus Labuschagne or blame captain Pat Cummins for bowling after winning the toss however Australia’s woes run much deeper than individual performances.

Legendary rugby league coach Jack Gibson famously had the belief that winning starts at the front office which is a philosophy that Cricket Australia would do well to consider.

Following this philosophy the investigation should start with the selectors as Chairman of Selectors George Bailey and his panel must accept a portion of the blame for the team’s recent woes. Rather than ask why certain players are not scoring runs the more imperative question should be why they are continually being selected.

While loyalty is to be commended Bailey and his panels have made several dubious calls during their tenure, and persisting with players who are so out of form raises some serious concerns about the panel and the direction they are sending Australian cricket.

Australia cannot afford to keep picking players on form alone.

The next worry facing our Test team is the fact that our team is an aging team. In the first Test against South Africa our average age was 34 years of age and was the first time in Australian Test history every player in the side was aged in their 30’s.

Our frontline bowling attack, as well as the frontline replacements, are not getting any younger.

Throw in the fact that champion batter Steve Smith is reaching the end of his remarkable career and the next 12-18 months could see a major changing of the guard for the Baggy Greens.

This brings into question of whether our selection panel has any sort of succession plan.

Nathan Lyon’s recent performances have also been a major concern as for the last decade Australia has relied on Lyon’s consistency but his failure to make an impact on a turning pitch in our most recent loss should bring into light the Country’s spin bowling stocks and who is ready to take his mantle as the team’s next long term spinning option.

Nobody is suggesting that we simply write off our champions because of age, but we do not want to go back to the mid 80’s where we had the nucleus of our side retire and no one to step up to their place.

The warning signs are there but is Cricket Australia aware of this and ready to act.

Australia’s upcoming four-test home series against New Zealand presents the selectors with the ideal opportunity to start the succession plan and although the temptation is to stick with the familiar faces and hope experience prevails Australia need more than a short-term solution. It needs a vision for the future.

I would be prepared to take a risk and punt on giving some of the next generation an opportunity to prove themselves at Test level.
Sam Konstas deserves another opportunity at the top of the order partnering Queenslander Matt Renshaw.

Steve Smith would move to first drop, giving that number three position some solidity and some experience while I would then continue to give Cameron Green time to cement the number four position.

At number five I would take the punt on young Queenslander Jack Clayton, hoping he can continue his Shield form at the next level while I would drop Travis Head to number six with Alex Cary at Seven.

I would keep Cooper Connelly, Josh Inglis, and new addition Ollie Davies around the squad to make sure that if we do not to look outside the starting 11, we have some ready replacements.

The established pace attack would keep their spots for the opening Test, but nobody should be guaranteed a spot.
Queensland’s paceman Xavier Bartlett and young gun Jem Ryan, New South Welshman Jack Edwards would join the squad while Brendan Doggett would come back into contention.

The spin bowling position also needs to be open to discussion.

Mitch Swepson, Matt kuhnemann and Todd Murphy should all be looked at as possible long-term replacements to Nathan Lyon as selectors should be rewarding Sheffield Shield form rather than rely on experience and reputation.

There will of course be the risks that comes with selecting young players and they may have a poor innings and the occasionally failure, but I feel the Australian sporting public would be more sympathetic to a young gun failing than someone negating the end of their career. The fans just want to see a definite plan in place.

The players and selectors are not the only ones feeling the heat, the pressure should also be mounting on coach Andrew McDonald.

McDonald has enjoyed some success during his tenure but their recent efforts against Bangladesh and South Africa should see his position come into question.

The coach needs to find a way to restore consistency, confidence and accountability in the playing group as Australia’s demanding up-coming schedule, with a home series against New Zealand followed by an away series against India, will test the coach’s ability to manage workloads, develop the young players and maintain standards.

McDonald and Bailey need to show that over this period they have a clear strategy for the future rather than just sit and hope that our tried and tested will continue to get Australia through.

Australia has been blessed with some extraordinary players over the past decade, but every great sporting dynasty must come to an end.
The challenge is recognising when change is necessary and acting before it is too late.

This summer should be the beginning of a new chapter for Australian cricket, although no one is expecting a champion to emerge overnight, but the public deserve to know that the people running the national team have a plan for the future.

George Bailey, Andrew McDonald, and Cricket Australia have one important decision to make.

The greatest danger for Australia is not losing a Test series; it is not recognising when it is time for a change.

Chapter 6d

Earlier Chapters:
Synopsis
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5

Rufus and Alice walked into the arrivals lounge at Darwin Airport at the beginning of the second week of August.

I watched them approaching, taking in the still physically tall, imposing Doctor Wright who would now be in her early 60s. She had broken at least one ASIO heart I knew of – Zander Ryan’s: in the 1970s – and in the end had remained a divorcee, given that her former husband had turned out to be something of a psychopath.

She was still a catch – with her high cheek bones and stylish sartorial appearance. She smiled when she caught sight of me and nudged Rufus who was on his cell phone alongside her.
‘Been a while Michael,’ she announced with an outstretched right hand. ‘Rufus tells me you’re having quite an adventure up here.’

‘Congratulations on your appointment Alice,’ I replied. ‘You have a hard act to follow.’
Rufus caught my remark and grinned.

‘No use toadying to me now Michael, I’m on my way out.’ he laughed.
I shrugged off a smile.

During the car trip to their hotel, I brought them up to date with ‘Spider’, confirming we now have what would appear to be a family of probable Russian illegal operatives in Darwin. Our next task was to work out how to unravel their intelligence network, without alerting them to our intentions.

‘Let’s get to work on this straight away,’ suggested Rufus.
Hannah, Enzo and Celina met us at the Hilton Esplanade Hotel where Hannah was still residing.

‘We figured it would be good to have Hannah close at hand while you are in Darwin for the next few days. All three of your rooms are quite close together,’ I told them.
Rufus and Alice settled into their accommodation while the rest of us piled into Hannah’s suit with some takeaway coffees.

A half hour later, the six of us were arranging ourselves around a small studio table in Rufus’s suit.

‘Before we start,’ the DDG began, ‘you need to be aware that Alice will officially be taking over my role in a fortnight’s time. However, at the D-G’s request, I have been persuaded to temporarily delay my retirement from the Organisation and remain on in Darwin in an advisory capacity to assist with Operation Spider.’

‘So how exactly will all this play out Rufus?’ I asked.

‘Once Alice is in the DDG chair, I will ostensibly – as far as everyone is aware - be retired. In fact, from that day onwards, I will be a contractor – based here in Darwin and working under yourself and Hannah.’

‘In other words,’ an additional resource for this office?’ suggested Hannah.

‘One that you are going to need in spades,’ Alice confirmed.

‘And your family commitments in Canberra?’ I asked Rufus.

‘I have no family any more,’ he replied.

Continued

If you ever plan on moving to the Moon, packing your bags is going to be a nightmare.

Right now, sending a single kilogram of anything into space costs a small fortune. And since human beings have a bad habit of needing to breathe every few seconds, carrying heavy steel oxygen tanks from Earth makes building a permanent lunar base almost ridiculously expensive.

There's a space age solution that sounds like science fiction, and that is: air will be "cooked" straight out of the dirt.

It turns out that the fine, powdery dust covering the lunar surface, technically called regolith, is actually about 45 per cent oxygen by weight. The catch? That oxygen is chemically locked up tight inside solid rocks, bound to metals like iron, silicon and aluminium. So, you can't just scoop up a handful of dirt and take a deep breath.

The trick is to melt the dirt with electricity
To crack open those rocks, aerospace engineers are using a clever process called molten regolith electrolysis.

Think of it like a hyper-advanced, ultra-hot recipe. You dump a bunch of Moon dust into a specialised reactor, crank the heat up past 1,600 degrees Celsius until the rock literally melts into a glowing liquid lava, and then zap it with a massive jolt of electricity.

The electrical current splits the chemical bonds holding the liquid together. Then, pure, breathable oxygen gas bubbles up to the top like carbonation in a soft drink, where it gets collected and stored.

And what happens to the leftover scrap at the bottom of the reactor? It is pure, melted metal alloys. So while you're making air for life support, you're also accidentally refining raw steel and aluminium that can be 3D-printed into landing pads, solar panels and shelters. Talk about a double win.

The pros and cons
This isn't just about giving future astronauts something to breathe. The biggest bottleneck in space travel isn't human lungs, it's rocket fuel.

Liquid oxygen makes up a huge proportion of the propellant used by many rockets. If we can produce it directly on the Moon, we could dramatically reduce the amount that needs to be transported from Earth. That's good, right?

Well, there's something about all this that makes me, just an everyday human being, a little uneasy.

We've already done a pretty spectacular job of exploiting Earth's natural resources, polluting its oceans and damaging its ecosystems. And now, rather than learning to tread a little more lightly, we're looking at the Moon and thinking, Ooh, what can we dig up over there?

Don't get me wrong, the science is extraordinary. But just because we can turn the Moon into a giant mining operation, does that mean we should?

SOURCE
Moon dust to moon colonies

If you were a betting person, you probably wouldn't put your money on a fuzzy little insect surviving a week underwater. Most of us assume that if a bee ends up completely submerged, it's pretty much game over.

Yet scientists recently made a mind-bending discovery that challenges what we thought we knew about these remarkable little creatures.

It turns out that hibernating queen bumblebees can chill out at the bottom of a flooded hole for up to a week, survive underwater, and emerge alive once the water recedes. Here's how these royal bugs pull off an actual submarine act without drowning.

A queen's secret underground life
When winter approaches, most bumblebees reach the end of their lives, meaning the workers die, the males disappear, and the colony that spent the warmer months buzzing with activity comes to an end.

But there's one very important survivor: the newly mated queen.

While the rest of us are pulling out our winter woollies, she's searching for somewhere safe to spend the colder months. She might burrow into loose soil, tuck herself beneath leaf litter, or settle into a sheltered little hollow underground.

Once she's found her winter accommodation, she enters a deep state of dormancy known as diapause.

Now, underground might seem like the perfect place to escape the winter chill, but it comes with a rather unpleasant possibility: flooding.

Heavy rain can saturate the soil, filling the queen's hiding place with water. For most air-breathing creatures, being trapped underwater for days would be a death sentence, but queen bumblebees have a remarkable survival advantage.

Research has revealed that these tiny creatures can survive complete submersion for up to a week, with surprisingly high survival rates.

So how on earth do they manage it?

The trick is a micro-scuba tank
It turns out they have some incredibly clever survival mechanisms. First off, when a queen goes into diapause, her body enters metabolic depression. She dramatically reduces her energy consumption.

And because her body is running on the absolute bare minimum, her oxygen demand drops enormously. Think of it like switching your phone into an extreme battery-saving mode, except this little creature is conserving enough energy to survive the winter.

Secondly, scientists suspect that a bee's dense coat of tiny, water-repellent hairs may trap a microscopic layer of air against her body. This could act like a physical gill, allowing her to exchange oxygen and carbon dioxide with the surrounding water.

Imagine having your own miniature scuba system built into your winter coat.

Burning fuel without oxygen
But what happens when oxygen becomes scarce? Well, that's when the queen has another trick up her sleeve: anaerobic metabolism.

That's the technical term for generating energy without needing oxygen. It's a process our own muscles also use during intense exercise, although our bodies can't rely on it indefinitely.

One consequence is a buildup of lactate, a substance associated with this alternative way of producing energy.

Scientists have found that submerged queen bumblebees can accumulate lactate in their tiny bodies, suggesting they're capable of keeping essential processes running even when oxygen is extremely limited.

Combined with their dramatically reduced metabolism, this gives them an extraordinary ability to endure conditions that would overwhelm many other insects.

Once they're back on dry land, their bodies gradually recover, with their metabolism returning towards normal over the following days.

Why this matters for the future
Since queen bumblebees are the sole survivors of their old colonies and the founders of new ones every spring, surviving harsh winters is crucial for the whole ecosystem.

And their importance goes well beyond their own survival.

Bumblebees are valuable pollinators, helping wildflowers, crops and countless other plants reproduce. Every queen that survives winter has the potential to establish a new colony, producing hundreds of workers that will spend the warmer months visiting flowers and spreading pollen.

As global climate patterns shift and flooding threatens more habitats, knowing that these little fuzzy powerhouses can survive a week-long dunking gives us a fascinating insight into just how resilient nature can be.

SOURCE
Bumble bee queens avoid drowning