As If Nothing Had Happened

*



Sydney Harbour Bridge.

"So where did our Dear Leader stand? Well, he said, emerging briefly from a pressing round of photo opportunties at sporting events, it's got to be worth a try; anything's better than a perceived American defeat... This remained Howard's position: he would leave our existing forces there, do his best to ensure that they were not put in any serious danger, and withdraw them as soon as Washington agreed, all the while loyally pretending that the troop surge was something more than his mate's desperate attempt to salvage his reputation, to be paid for in blood."
Mungo MacCallum, Poll Dancing.



Strangely he walked back into his old life as if nothing had happened. He contacted his children and they came around to visit. They didn't say anything about him having been away. He rang up his work, got told when his next shift was, and showed up; again as if nothing had happened. Everything was muffled; he felt the undertow of depression as strongly as ever; and he desperately missed his implant. The world seemed extremely flat. His work colleagues, too, treated him as if he'd only been away for a weekend, never mentioning his absence.

His nightmare boss was gone, he didn't bother to ask where, no doubt further up the food chain, just rewards for being a monster. His new boss was much more amicable, he had watched him rise through the ranks since his days as a cadet, and he settled quickly back into the routines of daily reporting. After all, he had been doing it for decades; decades before the implants. He scrolled the news wires, talked to police media, interviewed hapless members of the underclass on the urban fringes.

When it came to feeling fine, he almost did. He was immensely surprised, very relieved, that he could just pick up the strands of his old life. He didn't have any other alternatives. The desperate sadness of dislocation was not something he could bear for long. They were hive animals, humans, and he did not want to be away from the hive. He missed his implant, the constant, incredibly knowing, the amazing abilities it brought, but he was glad not to be in the hospital, or dead. He had honestly thought they would kill him.

The garbage that had become his life was not something he could face alone. He began actively to seek out a mate. He talked to all the sex bombs in the office, the older ones anyway. He had to face facts, he wasn't getting any younger. It was time to start acting age appropriate; not to pay for it as he had once been paid. There had to be someone waiting for him, he just didn't know who; and his unfocused longing brought up memories of a past he didn't know he had. He could remember the parties, the fabulous views from their apartments, the drunken shouts.

And the exquisite longing. There must be someone out there for me, a friend said, staring out the window into the night, the city lights sprinkling the darkness. They all laughed at their friend's momentary earnestness. Stale flesh, battered teeth, fading looks; decades later all these wants had been transferred to him. Without the implant his head was an echo chamber; and he felt as if he was walking through a large and lonely hall. It was a cruel discontent that settled on him from the moment he got up until the moment he went to sleep in his ordered; unchaotic life.

The rivers of data that he once processed weren't there anymore. He saw his neighbours and their faces brought back memories of their squabbles and events over the years, births, deaths, marriages. His own children, long grown and flown, seemed to hold good memories of the times they had spent together. He missed them when he saw them, missed their younger selves. Nothing could replace a vibrant love life. He started asking the women at the office, who all politely declined. He knew he wasn't handsome anymore, age had seen to that, but like some plodding animal he had to do something.

The thing he noticed most, perhaps, now his head was not flooded with the information from the implant, now he couldn't look at anything and know everything about it, its place in the history of the nation, its cost, its role, now he couldn't look at anybody and know anything he wanted to know about them, from the results of their latest visit to the doctor to the state of their credit cards, was just how muffled and forlorn everything was. The government had no soul, heart, or even apparent leader. No one seemed to think it odd that there was no longer a Prime Minister, that they didn't have a political leader, that the bureaucratic arm had taken over and dispensed with the politicians altogether.

There was no way the system could be overthrown, it was everywhere. Hot key links led him through a maze, and ultimately to nothing more than a policy document. The eradication of middle class crime was an astonishing achievement, but with it had gone their very humanity. No one seemed to care. When he tried to raise his doubts with his colleagues they stared at him blankly. When he asked the name of the last Prime Minister no one knew. Was it possible they had all been wiped? Had they all been to the hospital at one time or another? Even these questions were met with blank stares. The takeover had been complete. No heart, no soul, no chaos, no crime, this was some body's idea of nirvana. But without his implant, it wasn't his. Almost unthinkingly he began pitching for the craziest stories of the lot, the ones where the underclasses still rioted, got drunk, abused their children, refused to join the modern world. And he began an examination of their political, cult like movements; and found, much to his surprise, in these millennial style cults, all predicting an end to the world as it was known, lay hints of the truth and explanations for his muffled despair that he could find nowhere else. He started going out to the city fringes as often as he could. He knew he was being watched, monitored, but after so long he just chose to ignore it. To quote an old television show, the truth was out there, somewhere.


Sydney Harbour Bridge.


THE BIGGER STORY

http://www.abc.net.au/news/stories/2008/04/13/2215595.htm

The woman selected to be Australia's first female Governor-General says she is looking forward to serving the whole of the Australian community.

The current Queensland Governor Quentin Bryce will replace Major General Michael Jeffery when he retires in September.

Prime Minister Kevin Rudd has highlighted Ms Bryce's work as a former Federal Sex Discrimination Commissioner and her commitment to regional areas and Indigenous issues as key reasons for her appointment.

But he acknowledged her gender also played a part.

"[The appointment is] giving proper voice to the rights of women, giving proper voice to the proper place of women in modern Australia," he said.

Ms Bryce says she is deeply honoured to be chosen.

"It's a wonderful privilege to have the opportunity to serve our community in Australia in this role, and I'm looking forward to that enormously," she said.

Ms Bryce's appointment has been warmly welcomed as a significant step forward for the nation.

Democrats Senator Natasha Stott-Despoja says the appointment sends a strong message of equality.

"There's no suggestion of tokenism or only symbolism in this appointment, this is a qualified, impressive woman," she said.

Eva Cox from the Women's Electoral Lobby agrees.

"I think she's an excellently qualified person, regardless of whether she's a man or a woman," she said.

"She's been the governor of Queensland, she's a lawyer, she's got an amazingly good background for making this a really significant appointment."

Opposition Leader Brendan Nelson says he looks forward to Ms Bryce serving the country with distinction.



Sydney Harbour Bridge.