The Reluctant Doorkeeper Trilogy

9. Day 20

Someone had moved the ancient Tesla since Emma’s previous visit. She found it tucked in the small space between the farmhouse and what appeared to have been a laundry. There were additional signs of recent activity: a screen door banging in the wind, muddy footprints leading across a cracked concrete patio and into knee-high grass. For once, Emma managed to resist the tug of curiosity, securing the screen door her only detour.

The car functioned well during the journey to Bay-enders Camp, the result of some familiarity with the vehicle and knowledge of the route, Emma believed, rather than recent maintenance. The battery had been charged when she’d checked prior to leaving, which suggested a power source in the area, possibly in the back blocks of Rosebud, although she doubted many of the inhabitants possessed a car. In recent decades, the once thriving bayside town that had attracted thousands of visitors during the summer months, had shrunk to the size of a small village. Sea-level rise had played its part, inundating many of the low-lying camping areas along the foreshore, but economic factors had sounded the death knell, most Melburnians no longer able to afford a car or a holiday away from home. Day trips were popular nowadays, high-speed trains to and from the city frequent and inexpensive. However, the elevated Peninsula Line terminated at the northern end of Safety Beach, despite numerous petitions requesting an extension, and the shuttle bus to Rosebud was limited to twice a week. Pensioners made up most of the village population, the café and general store being staffed on a rotating basis by those under ninety who were required to undertake community service. The Ritchie brothers organised a weekly market, employing younger inhabitants as casual stallholders.

As Emma approached the camp, she encountered Gerry walking the track, her arrival anticipated, no doubt. ‘Hi, Gerry,’ she called, leaning out of the open window.

‘Good to see you, Emma.’

She pulled up alongside him. ‘Hop in and I’ll give you a lift back to camp.’

‘No thank you, my dear. I need the exercise. Park near Barry’s place.’ And with a wave of the hand, he continued on down the track.

Barry was sitting on a chair outside his home. He acknowledged her with a languid wave, then, without bothering with pleasantries, got to his feet and retreated inside.

‘And good morning to you, too,’ she muttered, reaching for the carrier bag before opening the car door. She wondered if Old Bill would appear and decided to seek him out when she’d delivered the paper. A description of her Pamper Point experience would be sure to amuse him.

‘Put it on the desk beside the computer,’ Barry demanded, without turning to face her. He continued fiddling with the innards of a black box balanced on a narrow shelf.

‘One ream, gloss,’ she declared, depositing the box with a thump. Piqued by his bad manners, she decided to play him at his own game. ‘Waste of effort for a Bay-enders newsletter, wasn’t it?’

‘Newsletter? What the hell are you on about?’ He swung around, pointing the thin blade held in his right hand at her abdomen.

‘The paper. I’d like to know its purpose.’

‘Would you now, Emma Cartwright? And what gives you the right to muscle in on my business?’

‘Could be mine as well, if it’s related to the employment portal.’

‘Who told you that?’

‘No one, I used my brains.’

‘Well, next time, if there is one, just do your job. Thinking complicates matters.’

Emma glanced at the knife and fled before he could use it.

* * *

Old Bill materialised as she sat on one of the logs arranged around the fire-pit, using deep-breathing techniques to calm her nerves.

‘Emma, good to see you again. May I join you?’

She nodded, then exhaled noisily. ‘Sorry about that. I’m trying to relax.’

‘Been with Barry by any chance?’ He sat down beside her.

‘How did you know?’

‘He’s in a paddy today. Can’t get his old printer to work.’

‘So that’s his problem. I thought I’d upset him.’

that’s‘Bit of a bully-boy at times, but he sure knows his stuff.’

Emma substituted ‘hacking’ for ‘stuff’. ‘So, what’s he going to print on the paper I brought? Letters to politicians with a long list of complaints?’

A weathered face flushed scarlet. ‘Geez, you don’t miss a trick, or did Cal tell you?’

‘I haven’t seen Cal for days.’

‘Me neither. Can’t see him showing up down here for a while.’

‘On account of Barry’s hacking?’

‘Cal’s got nothing to do with that.’

‘What then? His brother sniffing around?’

Old Bill shook his head. ‘I really shouldn’t say, but seeing as how you’re so well-informed, I guess it won’t hurt.’

‘We’re all in it together,’ she said, echoing Gerry’s remark during her first visit.

* * *

Hacking the Employment Positions Portal had been a personal protest, the only way for Barry to express his fury at the government’s continuing harsh treatment of the long-term unemployed. At least that was what Old Bill told Emma, as they sat side by side on logs worn smooth by elderly backsides. An acclaimed IT expert in a former life, Barry had been expelled from the workforce and stripped of his citizenship when it was discovered he couldn’t resist trying his hand at cyber-sabotage. At his trial, the judge had denied Barry the opportunity to embark on a different career in a different city, leaving him but two options. Incarceration in an off-shore prison hadn’t appealed, so the day before sentencing, Barry, like many non-citizens before him, had escaped from the city and disappeared. Since taking refuge with the Bay-enders, his skills had proven useful to a community having no objection to embarrassing and inconveniencing the despised government.

Problems had arisen with Barry’s latest endeavour, firstly because he hadn’t cleared it with the camp committee and secondly because he hadn’t expected the employment portal to be down for so long. More than ten years away from the workplace and no possibility of discussing technological developments with former colleagues, had led Barry to believe that contemporary IT specialists would override his blocking device within hours, or, at the most, a couple of days. Causing stress for unemployed citizens had been far from his mind; that would be counter-productive, especially as the government had so far refused to consider GAUP extensions. When the portal still remained offline after five days, Barry had become extremely agitated and begged Cal to use his position to protest the government’s inaction. A printed letter to every member of state parliament was Cal’s response, the use of paper justified to the politicians as ‘essential to circumvent any hacking of my market business data’.

* * *

Although Emma understood Cal’s motives for protest, she failed to comprehend why he wanted to use an old and unreliable printer in an isolated location. Surely he could have gained access to a newer model, and why no envelopes? Did he plan to visit state parliament and place a letter on every seat to ensure they were read, or at least glanced at?