Dystopian Science Fiction Book Series Set In Australia
The Reluctant Doorkeeper Trilogy by Sue Parritt
Series Excerpt
Jack being up and dressed when his mother wandered into the living room still half asleep was a rare occurrence. He suggested they eat at the dining table rather than perch on stools at the breakfast bar. Something on his mind, Emma assumed, envisaging problems with university coursework. Jack loved the practical element of dramatic arts but found research and writing assignments tiresome. On more than one occasion, she’d had to coax him into completing work on time and while happy to offer constructive criticism, she refused outright any request to ghost-write.
‘Tea and toast coming up,’ Jack announced in a cheerful voice, a twirl around the narrow kitchen implying nothing was amiss.
‘Thanks, love. It’s great to be waited on.’ Emma retreated to the comfort of a dining chair, reflecting on her long-ago campus drama group, the thrill of the opening night after weeks of rehearsal, the opportunity for escapism eagerly embraced in a mid-century Australia reeling from environmental disaster and economic slump. Recurrent drought had turned pastoral land into dustbowls and frequent storms inundated popular tourist destinations, deterring all but the most intrepid overseas travellers. Fifty years on, with economic depression the norm and continuing climate catastrophe, Jack would find professional theatre a chore rather than a welcome distraction. If government-employed, his job would be to present propaganda disguised as entertainment.
Annoyed with herself for allowing negative thoughts to invade a rare shared breakfast, Emma looked out at a blue sky, for once unsullied by pollution or the threat of a storm. Seagulls wheeled at balcony level; once more, she yearned for wings to carry her far from a troubled land. High above a rolling ocean, she could soar without a care in the world, ride the thermals or bob on the swell as the sun disappeared from view. Day into night, night into day; a simple schedule, unchanging whatever the date flashing on a computer screen or the countdown to a bleak future blaring each morning from audio points.
The daily announcement had woken her, banishing a beautiful dream of Aarav cradling their baby son. ‘The gods are smiling on us,’ he’d declared, his dream-words a repeat of those spoken almost twenty years earlier as Emma lay back on the pillows exhausted from a lengthy labour. In the dream, she’d queried whether he was referring to the Hindu Trimurti of Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva, or a Christian trinity still worshipped by a few, but she never knew the answer, a strident message intervening before he could reply.
‘One wholemeal toast with lemon butter, one black tea.’ Jack announced, placing breakfast in front of her.
‘Thanks, much appreciated.’
‘I’ll join you in a minute when mine’s done.’ Following a dramatic bow, he backed away; actions learnt for a recent Shakespearian role.
Emma suppressed a laugh. Bowing and scraping to aristocrats belonged in the past. A republic since twenty-fifty, the continent once known as Terra Nullius retained no allegiance to insignificant islands half a world away.
Seated opposite one another, mother and son made small-talk in between mouthfuls of tea and toast. Thankful for a respite – she would have to check the portal soon and then visit Charlie – Emma savoured the minutes spent in Jack’s company. Most days, he was in too much of a hurry to bother with breakfast and left the apartment with a banana stuffed in his shirt pocket, or chewing a slice of bread. She’d given up trying to make him eat regular meals at regular times, so his occasional presence was a welcome bonus.
‘A good start to the day,’ she remarked, placing her empty mug on a crumb-dusted plate. ‘When do you have to leave for uni?’
‘No rush. I want to run something by you first to see if we need to take it further.’
‘You and Will?’
Jack shook his head. ‘Me, Will and his friend Sandra.’
‘The cyber security student?’
‘Yep. It turns out her uncle is in your situation. Yesterday, he received a second plaque that really freaked him out. As well as beginning and end dates, this one advised that any attempt to alter or delete official data would be treated as a criminal act.’
Emma frowned. ‘Did he try to delete his first plaque?’
‘No, but Sandra did and now she’s scared shitless. Not that she succeeded, mind you.’
‘I’d better check my plaque.’ Emma pressed her wrist-band. ‘Yes, there’s an addition.’ Trying to contain mounting anger, she read, Any attempt to influence government policy by harassing members of parliament will be treated as a criminal act. Her fists struck the table. ‘Bloody woman! We should have known better than to believe a member of parliament!’
Jack pushed back his chair. ‘I’ll check our screen.’ Two steps and he was standing in front of the computer issuing instructions. The screen flickered, then text appeared:
The Employment Positions Portal remains offline.
No GAUP extensions will be granted under any circumstances.
The system cannot be altered.
Behind him, Emma shuddered. ‘Just as you thought, Jack. These messages and the plaques are government propaganda, not a hacker’s work.’
‘We have to protest now, Mum, whatever the risk.’ Jack twisted around to clasp her in a tight embrace. ‘I won’t stand by and see you and all the others without work crushed by heartless politicians. The fucking system must be altered!’
Pressed against a crumpled shirt, Emma could only smile her pride. Jack might be a budding actor, but on this occasion, she knew he’d spoken from the heart.
Jack departed soon afterwards, leaving Emma with a flashing message for company, the usual exit commands having failed. Turning her back on the screen, she hurried into the bathroom, adding her nightdress to the pile of Jack’s clothes on the floor before stepping into the shower. She must visit Charlie’s stall, relay the latest information and ask him to speak to Cal. Given her position as CV secretary, it seemed absurd that her access to the convenor was still limited to text and e-message. Lack of trust, or had Cal simply forgotten to give her his private code? Either way, it was making communication difficult and, like the EPP, the system must be altered. Suddenly, the theft of a basket of fruit and vegetables faded into insignificance.
***
MP Anthea Granger’s duplicity came as no surprise to Charlie, but a glance at Emma’s wrist-band evoked a torrent of contempt directed at both state and federal politicians, his plump cheeks reddening to such an extent, he looked like a ripe tomato about to burst.
‘Calm down, Charlie,’ Emma urged when she could get a word in. ‘You’ll have a heart attack if you carry on like this. Then what use would you be to any of us?’
‘Don’t fuss,’ he retorted, reaching for his water bottle. ‘I’m just letting off steam.’
She watched him gulp half the contents, then settle himself on the stool, a benign expression on his face as though nothing untoward had occurred. ‘Righto, my dear, I’ll call Cal.’ Charlie picked up his cone-shaped device. ‘Oh, Emma, you’d best not hang around. You’ve visited my stall so much lately that customers are starting to talk.’
‘What are they saying?’
‘It’s just gossip.’
Emma leaned over the produce table. ‘I need to know who’s keeping tabs on my movements. There could be repercussions for CV.’
‘I hadn’t thought of that.’ Charlie looked embarrassed. ‘One woman asked me if you were running an unauthorised café in your apartment.’
‘Who, Charlie? I need a name.’
‘Cheryl someone. I don’t know her surname.’
Emma didn’t know anyone by that name. ‘Anyone else asking questions about me?’
Charlie shook his head.
‘That’s a relief.’ Emma smiled. ‘See you, Uncle.’
Charlie turned to his device. ‘Call Cal Ritchie….’ he began, then hesitated as though he’d changed his mind and stood staring up at the striped awning. His device slipped into a tray of bananas. ‘Emma,’ he called, ‘you forgot your fruit.’
Puzzled – she hadn’t bought any fruit – Emma returned to the stall. ‘Is there a problem?’
‘I’ve just remembered something important,’ Charlie admitted, handing her a bunch of bananas. ‘So sorry. Guess my old memory’s playing up.’
‘You remembered, that’s what matters.’
Charlie glanced around furtively. ‘There was a guy I hadn’t seen before, came over the other day and asked if I knew you. I told him you’d been a loyal customer for years, if that was what he meant. Then, he said he might have a job going, so wanted to check if I knew anything else about you.’
‘Did he say what sort of job?’
‘No, and before you ask, I didn’t tell him another thing. Played the dim-witted old man instead and just repeated what I’d said before.’
‘Good for you.’ Emma contemplated Charlie’s disclosure. ‘Did he look like an official?’
‘No, a bit scruffy in fact. Dressed like Dugald.’
‘One of his mates, perhaps? Sent to check on me for some reason.’
‘Could be. Anyway, I reckon the job was just an excuse to pick my brains.’
‘Unless….’ She hesitated. ‘Unless Cal’s the one being hounded?’
‘That’s always on the cards considering what he gets up to and I’ve never trusted Dugald.’ Charlie sniffed. ‘But apart from your new role with CV, what have Cal’s activities got to do with you?’
Emma recalled a drunken Dugald and the verbal abuse accusing her of trying to snare his brother. ‘If this guy saw me talking to Cal on the beach the other day and then drive off in the truck, he could have alerted Dugald. That was the day Cal asked me to take on the role of secretary.’
Charlie frowned. ‘Are you sure you weren’t followed to my place?’
‘Positive. We made several stops beforehand and Cal would have noticed anything suspicious.’
Charlie nodded. ‘So, we put it down to one of Dugald’s mates trying to stir up trouble between the brothers?’
Emma sighed. ‘I don’t know, Charlie. I’m new to all this cloak and dagger stuff. Just let me know if you see the guy again.’
‘Sure thing.’ Charlie bent to retrieve his device.
Emma wandered over to the stall selling cheese to glance at the varieties on offer, nestled in refrigerated comfort. ‘I’ll take half a kilo of cheddar, please, Gavin.’
‘Still looking for work, I see,’ the gruff stallkeeper remarked, as his gloved hand reached into the cabinet.
His observation confirmed what Emma had suspected for weeks – the entire population of Safety Beach knew her circumstances. Two weeks before her lack of employment ceased to be market and neighbourhood gossip.
‘Let me give you a bit of advice.’ Gavin weighed and wrapped before continuing in a low voice. ‘When you front-up to the Productive Citizens Bureau, make sure to appear eager for work, any position, any place, any hours. The alternative doesn’t bear thinking about.’
‘What alternative?’ she asked, recalling Gavin’s penchant for unsubstantiated rumour.
He picked up the cheese knife and drew the blade across his neck.
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Gavin. Public servants don’t dole out death sentences. Or do you have hard evidence to the contrary?’
He shook his head. ‘Nah, one of me mates said he heard that’s what happens if you refuse particular work.’
‘Like cleaning out blocked sewers?’
Gavin shrugged. ‘He didn’t say.’
Emma lifted her arm for scanning. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll take your advice and accept whatever’s on offer.’
‘Sensible woman.’ Gavin handed over the cheese, his lips curled in a sneer.
‘Thank you.’ Emma turned to leave, wondering what had made him so obnoxious. It wasn’t a desirable trait for a market trader. Then she spotted a second obnoxious figure, his head moving slowly from side to side, hands in the pockets of baggy shorts, sandaled feet planted wide apart on sun-baked ground. Searching for his brother, she assumed, looking the other way. She had hoped to speak to Charlie again, but couldn’t risk it now. Shielded from Dugald’s penetrating gaze by her wide-brimmed hat and sunglasses, she walked towards the path leading to residential streets, determined not to be spooked by his presence. Her initial reaction had been to take the boardwalk shortcut, a decision quickly dismissed in view of the current higher than usual tides.
Halfway home, she slowed her pace and rummaged in her bag as though looking for something. Risking a look over her shoulder, she breathed a sigh of relief to see the street devoid of pedestrians or vehicles.
Soon, she was inside her apartment, sending a text to Cal warning him to steer clear of Safety Beach market for a few hours. It was the least she could do. A devious brother’s machinations couldn’t be ignored.
By noon, she had completed her chores and was contemplating how to pass the hours until Jack returned when the apartment security alert announced an unknown visitor. Concerned that Dugald had learned her address, she hurried into the hall to check the screen on the wall beside the door. ‘Cal!’ she exclaimed, as a smiling face appeared. ‘This is a surprise.’ Releasing the door lock, she quickly ushered him inside.
‘I took a risk Dugald wouldn’t know the shortcut.’ Cal bent to remove his boots. ‘Got wet on the boardwalk, don’t want to muck up your floor.’
‘How about I put your boots out on the balcony to dry?’
‘Thanks, Em.’ He handed them over and followed her into the living room.
‘Want some lunch?’ she asked, returning inside after propping his boots against the exterior wall. ‘I got some cheddar from Gavin.’
‘Tasty produce, tasteless trader,’ Cal muttered.
‘My thoughts entirely.’ Emma looked up. ‘So, will you eat with me?’
‘Yes, thanks. Sorry, I’m a bit distracted.’
‘Thinking about the new messages?’
‘Yep. Bloody bitch.’
‘We don’t know it was Anthea Granger. It could have been someone in the Health Department or wherever else she forwarded Luke’s report.’
‘Don’t be naïve, Em. She wouldn’t have sent it anywhere except Homeland Security.’
Emma grimaced. ‘I’m sure you’re right.’ She hurried into the kitchen to prepare a salad.
After a few minutes spent observing still-soaring gulls, Cal headed for the breakfast bar. ‘Fancy a drive this afternoon?’
‘Sure. Where?’
‘Down the Pen.’
‘Another delivery?’
‘No, printer’s all good now. I need to pick Barry’s brains.’
Emma looked up from the chopping board. ‘I’d prefer to pickle him.’
‘Understandable, he’s caused a lot of grief with his meddling. And just to prove a point, too. It’s not as if he needed an extended GAUP.’
Emma shuddered.
‘Sorry, Em, that was a bit close to home.’
‘Forgiven.’ She crossed to the cooler. ‘Did Charlie mention my employment idea?’
‘Yep. Unfortunately, Dugald put the kibosh on it. Reckons we can’t afford to employ any new staff. Pity, you and I would make a good team.’
Emma reached for the cheese, relieved that Cal couldn’t see the disappointment etched on her face. Working for the Ritchie Brothers had been her last hope; now she’d have to take her chances at the PCB. She considered telling Cal about Gavin’s elimination theory, but decided against it, as the prospect of hearing even a grain of truth was too daunting. ‘Why did you risk coming to my apartment when Dugald’s in the neighbourhood?’
Fingers tapped the breakfast bar. ‘Wanted company,’ Cal said, embarrassment shading his freckled face. ‘Sometimes I get sick of myself.’
‘Fair enough.’ She chopped cheese into small cubes and sprinkled them over the bowl of salad. ‘Hope I live up to your expectations.’
‘Nothing dull about your conversation, Em.’
‘Thank you, kind sir.’
‘Don’t you “sir” me. No hierarchy in CV.’
‘I’m pleased to hear it.’ She picked up the bowl. ‘Grab a couple of plates and some cutlery from the dish drainer.’
‘Sure thing.’
Two navigating the narrow kitchen proved problematic, so Emma slid sideways to avoid a head-on collision.
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