It was just like any other day when Thomas was here. Some called it the most unforgiving place in the world, but Thomas, better known as Gabriel, had high hopes. This backbreaking stretch of land he worked was the remnant of an unfiltered hope, a hope that a speck of gold could trickle through his last pickaxe dig. When word got out that gold had been discovered, he risked his future to go to New Zealand from Australia and had worked his way up from Southland since last month. Now it was May, and winter was on its way. The sweat seeped into every pore as his cracked hands worked through potential.

It was slow work, against the barren but uniquely beautiful landscape, but he couldn't find a single speck to save his life despite the rumours. He followed the hum of bees up the river, searching for any sign of clay or a slow bend, a good sign of gold. Gabriel worked his way up a gorge in the moonlight when he noticed a shallow bar that looked very promising. He wasn’t as hopeful as he usually was, as seeing no sign for months meant he didn't get his hopes up. But this time was different. He dug away at gravel and revealed a soft slate - pure gold shining back at him like the stars in Orion on this dark and frosty night.

His heart skipped a beat. He could’ve been there for an hour or a second. Time felt irrelevant as he stared at the holy grail. It was the goal every miner longs for. His disbelief turned into panic: how was he going to move it by himself? Could he trust the other miners to not steal his credit? He was weighing up his chances when he heard a noise. He feared the worst while he turned and looked as innocent as possible. As his eyes adjusted to the source, he breathed a colossal sigh of relief. It was a piwakawaka, scuffling around the riverbed.

He took a swig of brandy and thought of ways he could recover his treasure, but this stretch of gold would be impossible to recover without a fuss. A fleeting thought crossed his mind that his fear had turned into greed. He decided to cover it and mark the site as inconspicuous as possible with rocks before returning to his tent in shock. Sleep couldn’t come. Visions of someone hauling away his fortune kept him awake. As the sun rose on camp, he felt as though he were the only person alive despite the hundreds gathered with him. He couldn’t stand it, knowing his fortune was out there, less than a 10-minute walk away.

He made up his mind to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating and that last night wasn’t just a dream. He didn’t get far when another miner caught up to him. “Hey Gabe! How’s the digging going?” he asked. “Same old, same old, John,” Gabriel said - he thought he played it off quite well. “Do you want to come get some more mutton in an hour? We’ve had to skip a few meals, and with winter coming, we could be in trouble.” He looked hopeful before adding, “Keep you all fuelled up for the afternoon?” “I’m okay; I might’ve found good signs, but it’s early days.” John was the nicest man he knew, but trusting him still felt risky. “Oh, really?

You want me to help?” “No,” he said quickly - almost too quickly. “Okay then - are you sure you’re alright mate? You look as pale as a sheep’s wool!” “I’m fine.” “Come on mate, - take a break.” “I’ll be okay - maybe tomorrow,” he suggested. “Well, I’ll see ya round then.” With that, he gave Gabriel a suspicious eye and nodded before turning away. “Relax mate,” he told himself. It wasn’t feeling like the dream he imagined. He felt like it was a curse, tugging on his shoulders, begging him to forget it ever happened. He decided to retreat for the day, after the close call.

He’d now lost track of time and was stunned to find it was already 10 a.m., 2 hours longer than he could remember waking up, not even noticing the paper dropped outside. He quietly cursed the man for not dropping it inside, for the frost of the last weeks of autumn acted as a warning for the upcoming dread of winter. The damp pages felt unfamiliar against his weak hands as he sat on a stool and began reading. The Otago Witness helped Gabriel feel closer to the outside world. As he scanned the remnants of the first page, the next showed a worrisome headline: “Otago miners to head upstream as their search for gold remains a dream.” “No no no no,” he repeated.

This could not be it. He felt his emotions succumb to him for the first time in a while. He felt detached from life: a strange feeling to say the least. He thought he was hallucinating when he heard a loud pop from outside. He stormed out of the tent to see the wildest sight. A boy, no older than 15, trotting down the miniature knoll of prickles. He stood out like a sore thumb with his neatly cropped hair, navy polo shirt, and a ridiculous-looking set of lighter-blue pants. He couldn’t help himself. “What the hell are ya playing at, son?” “Sorry, I … I got lost,” he stuttered. “Not a big place though is it?” he gestured to his attire.

“Where's your sense of decency?” “I guess jorts weren’t the fashion back then.” “Look, I don’t know what you want, but you need to get off my land.” He didn’t know why he hadn’t said it sooner. Since he decided to leave, Gabe didn’t hear from the mysterious boy again, but come nightfall, he could sense he hadn’t left. He peered out to see a light emitting out of the bushes and saw an outline. “OI!!! BOY!!! Get in here!” Gabriel shouted to him. He saw the lights subdue, and the figure bounding down the small slope into the shelter. “Thank you so much,” he said gratefully, through clattering teeth. He seemed innocent, but frightened. It was like they were sharing each other’s fear.

Gabriel wondered what he could be worried about but thought best not to ask. Breaking the silence, he stated, “I’ll make some food.” He took a step or two towards the limited supplies. There should be another late delivery soon, so he picked out damper and some lamb he got gifted from John. “Is that it?” the boy asked. He regretted it as soon as the words slipped out of his mouth. The miner gave him a dirty look before setting his serving down too. “I didn’t actually catch your name,” said the boy. “That's cause I didn’t tell you.” He couldn’t decide if he should say too much. “It’s Thomas, but I’m known as Gabe,” he muttered.

“So … does that mean you are popular around here?” “You could say that,” he added grudgingly. “I’m Joel by the way.” The man nodded. They ate in silence while staying close to a small fire before Gabriel decided to get his extra blanket out. He thrust it to Joel, which he accepted gratefully. Gabriel wondered if he was insane for letting a teenager sleep in his tent. He could be a thief after all, but he actually felt at ease with another person there. Slowly but surely, he managed to drift off to sleep after he could confidently hear the steady breathing rhythm of his newfound companion.

As morning dawned, Gabe came to his senses, surprised at how relaxed he was after getting to sleep. Joel noticed Gabe was awake. “I really appreciate you letting me stay.” “Well I couldn’t let you freeze to death, could I?” “Either way you still let me into your … ” Joel gestured towards the place. “Tent”. “Well, as long as you know where you’re going now, you’ll be fine.” “Yeah, well, you see the problem is … ” Joel was more apprehensive and nervous than last night. He suddenly looked panicked, fearful: “I’m not from here!” He blurted. “What the ruddy hell do you mean?” “Well, you could say I used my smarts to build the first-ever time machine.

People called me dangerous, so I worked alone until I completed it. “This was the first place I could think of. Everyone was sure there would be something, but it just seemed to never come. A harsh winter set in and forced them to just … give up. But then I remembered a history lesson … We had to write a full essay on the ‘what could’ve been’ - some supposed madman called Tom who claimed he had found gold when he realised he had to leave. His voice trailed away. “You aren’t Tom, are you?” “Didn’t I tell you my first name was Thomas?” Gabriel whispered, staring in awe and disbelief at what was just said.

“Oh my god … Well, I timed it perfectly, didn't I?” Gabe looked puzzled. “Well, did you find the gold you ‘promised’ was there?” “What happened here?” he asked, deliberately delaying his initial question. “Well what would you think happened? This harsh climate, no reason to stay, so it never took off.” An overwhelming realisation struck him. It all made sense now. He had to choose trust over the fear of others taking this from him. “I did find it,” he admitted. He didn’t know what made him say it, but it felt like a massive relief to do so. “So you're going to tell everyone, aren't you?” he asked apprehensively.

Joel thought for a moment before stating, ” Would you rather live with yourself knowing what could’ve been a fueling point for something bigger, or did you fear the credit would be betrayed?” “The last one,” he admitted. “Look. I don’t belong here. I know that now, but I also realise me being here may have been the beginning of a new reality. Our new reality. Just think about that.” “Is your ‘machine’ fixed?” He asked, absentmindedly pondering over the deep questions he hadn’t been able to envision. “I was very worried when I got here and it malfunctioned, but I think I fixed it, although the temperature caused it to shut down. Need to check,” he added. Joel broke the silence.

“I can’t change the past, but now being here I admit I’m scared to find out what the future brings; it's basically a new dimension!” With that, he walked out, followed by the miner. Joel’s face lit up as he reached the machine behind the bushes. “Thank god … it’s ready!” He turned to the man who had every reason to turn him away. Joel held out a card. “For some legal permits to that gold you found.” “Checker’s Okay Law?” He asked. Reading wasn’t his strong suit. He looked up and thanked him. A smile spread across his face before he took a deep breath and, in the blink of an eye, vanished into thin air.

He pocketed the card and made up his mind. With the move on ‘order’ in the next hour or so, he had no time to lose. He mustered up all of his courage and made his way up an unmarked path to the rough area of a somewhat forgotten small community of tents sheltered close together. He marched up to the main one: John was an influential man who helped to edit the Otago Witness in the elaborate gold mining section. He called out, “John? Can I have a chat with you?” His heart was in his mouth, yet he knew it was the right decision. He bustled out from under the tent, having had a small serving of damper, and set down his flask.

The mood was low. Looking slightly concerned, he said, “Sure mate - what's up?”. “I’ve struck gold.”