The newsreader was barely holding it together, which in itself was terrifying, because the dude had been reporting the national headlines since the seventies and had always been stoic in the face of tragedy. In a shaking voice, he said, "The US president confirmed that the nanobot swarm was released approximately three hours ago, at five pm local time in Washington DC."

The bloated face of the president filled the screen, defiant and toad-like. "The United States of America will not stand by while the enemy lords it over us. They were warned, we have the best technology and we're not afraid to use it. This is on them, not on us." He grinned, face splitting wide like a horror mask. "The nanobots are programmed to attack only their fuel supplies – this weapon holds no danger for the rest of the world."

The newsreader continued. "But retaliation came quickly, with nanobots released on US soil shortly afterwards. Designed to attack and destroy electrical circuits, the nanobots have caused chaos and panic on the east coast of America, plunging Washington DC, Boston and New York into darkness, with all power grids failing and all devices using electricity rendered useless."

Shaky phone footage, shot after shot of people rioting, looting, running, screaming. Times Square, all the vibrant signs flicking off one by one, the White House floodlights snapping off. The newsreader's voice narrated over the scenes that looked like they were cut from the Purge movie series for being too violent. "The nanobots are spreading rapidly across the US, and although hopes were high that the tiny robots would be contained to only the North and South American continents, we've just received word that power grids are failing on the west coast of Africa and parts of the UK, which indicates the swarms are multiplying rapidly enough to cross large bodies of water.

"Meanwhile, the fuel nanobot swarm has spread from their original release location to Russia and throughout Asia." People sat in cars, uselessly honking horns, freeways gridlocked with endless streams of unmoving vehicles. "Planes worldwide have been grounded or diverted to the nearest major airport, with experts confident that the nanobots cannot climb above 2000 meters. Flights will reach their destination, with just enough time to land safely before the swarms compromise their fuel and electrical systems; the only good news on a day of international tragedy."

As we'd been watching, every mouth gaping open, the rest of the office had filtered silently into the room. Simon moved to the couch, elbows collapsing forward heavily onto his knees. Jaw tense, Bailey's hands gripped the back of a chair, while Nev held a box of tissues like a small dog, patting the soft tissue as if it were fur. Our client had barely moved, Rueben's gentle eyes creased in fear.

It was about this point that the scuffle broke out over gender-neutral insults, but before things could escalate (and before Rueben could answer my question), the newsreader cut in, urgent tones silencing the room. "I've been told our Prime Minister has a message for all Australian citizens. Please stand by as we cross to Canberra for the emergency broadcast."

The PM appeared on screen. He was a greasy, perpetually nervous man who'd been voted into the highest position in the land by baby boomers who loved his hard-line stance against 'evils' like equality, immigration and a woman's right to choose. He pulled at his collar, as if he'd suddenly realised this wasn't the job he thought it was going to be. "Ah, good morning, Australia. Well, not good morning. A very bad morning in fact..."

With shaking hands, he lifted a piece of paper and began to read. "After speaking with the White House before we lost contact with the US, and consulting with scientists here and London, it appears we have approximately one hour before the electric nanobots swarm over the Australian continent, and slightly longer before the fuel supply nanobots land here too – perhaps a few hours."

The crowd in Canberra gasped, and so did most of the people in the room with me. My stomach gurgled in fear. And maybe in hunger. Dammit. How can I be hungry at a time like this? Some people lost their appetite (and lost weight) in a time of crisis, but I'd never been one of them. Drama made me stress eat.

Absently, I reached for a white chocolate and raspberry scone, devouring it while the Prime Minister continued. "I must be clear: while the nanobots can't be seen or felt and pose no immediate threat to humans, they will destroy every piece of technology we are accustomed to living our lives with. The lights in your home, the medical equipment in our hospitals, all vehicles including cars, trains, ships and planes, traffic signals, refrigerators and freezers, mobile phones-"

"Oh, god, no!" squeaked Nev, clutching her Samsung to her heart.

"-heating and cooling systems, digital and analogue transmitters, and of course, all computers and servers." He stopped and sighed deeply, leaving a pause for the nation to contemplate an existence about to be thrown back to the 1700s.

My gaze shifted to Rueben who sat beside me, white with fear. Beneath the desk, I could see his hands quivering in panic, fingers taut and outstretched as if he was reaching for something. Moved, I closed my hand over his, and was grateful to feel his fingers relax and squeeze mine gently.

The PM shook his head miserably. "We don't know what the future will look like tomorrow, or how long it will take humanity to rally and recover what we are about to lose. This may well be the last time I am able to speak with you..." He appeared to break from his speech here, and commented wryly, "...which some of you will be glad to hear, I'm sure. But I believe in the Australian people and their spirit of endurance. I ask that all true Aussies face this unprecedented moment in history with mateship, ingenuity and the grit of our ancestors, both Indigenous and the ones who arrived on these shores. Look after yourselves."

He finished with a dab, then grinned at the camera. "That was for my grandsons in Japan. Boys, if I never see you again, Pop loves you. Look after mummy, okay?" He broke down then, and his wife rushed forward to hold him.

Back in the studio, the newscaster wiped his eyes, lost for words. In my office, every head swung in my direction, and I quickly disentangled my fingers from Rueben's as Nev asked what my team always asked me. "Boss... What do we do?"

The moment slowed for me, time seeming to still as though I was a speedster in a superhero movie. I don't want this. I wanted to crawl back into my tiny bed and pretend none of this was happening.

But the dozen or so people in the room looked completely bereft of direction, and as I did during any crisis, I gave some options. "Right. The phones are still working for now, so I suggest you call your loved ones – particularly anyone who lives overseas or on the other side of the country. If planes and ships are out of action, you don't know how long it might be before you will see or hear from them again."

Max let out a whimper, and my heart bled for him; his whole family lived in the Philippines, including his wife and his three small kids.

"I'm going to make a call myself," I said, trying to keep my voice steady, "then I'll put together an action plan." Empty words, but that was what I always said. I was a professional problem solver. I could do this.

I turned away before my terrified tears started falling and called my mum.

"Karla? Oh honey, are you okay?"

"Mum," I whispered, hoping she couldn't hear my fear. "I'm okay."

"Have you been watching? Did you see the PM?"

"I did. I... I don't know what to do, Mum." My brain flittered away, running a thousand scenarios. "It makes sense to be near the city – surely NSW government will have some kind of emergency plan to feed people. But if the cops can't keep a handle on crime and people are scared, it could get crazy here."

"Come down here with us." Her tone was calm and final.

"Mum, you're in Tasmania," I retorted. I'd never entirely forgiven her and Dad for selling up, leaving Sydney, jointly investing in an organic farm with my stupid brother in Tassie, and moving into the sustainable house they'd built on the property. "Tasmania's not even part of mainland Australia."

"Kitty, I don't want to have an argument about Tasmania 'not really being Australia' again."

"This isn't a political or cultural thing, Mum, I mean that Tassie is literally an island!" I realised I was yelling, and Rueben looked over at me from where he stood on the other side of the room, speaking desperately into his phone. I moved away to the window and tried to calm myself. "Mum, you're so far away. I wish you were here."

Ever practical, I could almost hear my mum's shrug down the line. "So, come here."

"Mum..."

"I mean it. You're a resourceful young woman, Karla. Get yourself down here."

"Even if that wasn't completely unfeasible – which it is – I can't just leave. There's a whole team of people here who need me."

"Bring them. We have the room." My mum rode over the top of my next rebuttal, saying, "You heard the news – we don't know how long we'll be without power and transport. That means the cities are going to get ugly, fast. The farm is self-sustaining, off the grid. We have a well, we're on septic, and we grow enough food to feed ourselves and trade with the neighbouring farms for anything we don't have. The huts we rent out as Airbnb's are sitting there empty at the moment, so there's housing for anyone willing to help out with the farm. Plus, we have weapons."

Speechless, I let the idea wash over me. I'd hated my stupid brother and his stupid sustainable lifestyle ideals that had stolen my mother away from me, but right now, I was starting to see the appeal.

An image of the farm grew before me. Begrudgingly, even I had to admit that it was beautiful; wood and stone buildings set against rolling green fields, the ocean in the distance. Tassie would definitely be safer than the major cities, a green oasis with enough water and food to go around for the small population. If I had to ride out the end of the world somewhere, it was a smart choice.

Mum cleared her throat. "Also, I thought you might like to know that Dean is here."

"Dean? My De- I mean, Dean Mealey?"

With a lilt in her tone, Mum said, "He broke up with that girlfriend of his, and came down from Melbourne last week to spend time with your brother."

My free hand fluttered to my necklace, pulling at the charm on the end of its chain. "He's single?"

"He's just walked in – hang on, one sec... Dean, Karla's going to come down from Sydney and join us here," she announced casually, as if I was swanning by on a cruise and stopping in along the way. "Do you want to speak to her?"

"Mum, wait, no-"

"Karla, is that you?" Dean's voice filled my ear, warm and knowing. "Hey!"

"Hi."

"Listen, if you're coming down from Sydney, be safe, okay?"

"Yeah."

"When you get to Melbourne, if you need a place to stay, go to my house. The key is still in the same spot. Let yourself in, take whatever you need." He laughed hoarsely. "I don't think I'll be back there for a while."

"Right." Goddammit. How, after so many years, could my brother's best friend still reduce me to single syllables?

"Karla... When you get here... I want you to know..."

My breath hitched, and I hiccoughed ungracefully. "What?"

"I made a mistake. The last time we saw each other."

Screw this day, honestly. My pitch was ruined, the world was collapsing, and the words I'd waited years to hear were finally coming from a man who was more than a thousand k's away. "Dean..."

"We can talk more when you get here. Come find me, baby girl."

Hot lust, inappropriate and familiar shot through me. "I will," I whispered, managing two syllables.

"Karla?" Mum was back. "You should go. Work out what you need to do to get down here, and do it."

"I love you, Mum." Tears fell, but I wouldn't let her know I was crying. If I knew my mum, she was doing exactly the same thing.

"I love you, Kitty. Your father says he loves you too-" I could hear him bellowing his love in the background, and it made me smile because I knew how much he hated talking on the phone. Even the apocalypse wouldn't change that. "We'll see you soon."

The belief in her voice was the only reason I felt strong enough to hang up. I turned to face the room, where a gaggle of faces waited in expectation.

Right. Time to organise a migration by foot across half a continent. No pressure. I smiled tightly and announced, "I'm going to Tasmania. Who's in?"