The TV and print ads, the telephone survey all contributed to a certain buzz that could be felt around the town. It further enforced the belief that things were happening in Eden. The town was coming to life, moving forward.
After two weeks of this, a notice appeared on page three of the Eden Star, full page. It was headed in bold type, ‘Public Notice.’ Under the heading was an invitation for the residents of Eden to participate in a survey. The survey would be face-to-face, take no more than half an hour. It was entirely voluntarily. Its aim, the notice said, was to gauge the mood of the people of Eden. To determine how content they were with their life and current circumstances and to attempt to measure the population’s degree of happiness or otherwise. All responses would be confidential and anonymous. No details beyond age and gender of the respondent would be recorded. And to compensate the participants for their time and trouble, there would be $1000 cash payable immediately at the conclusion of the half hour survey. And at the bottom of the page, in bold letters, similar to the heading, were the words, ‘This survey is undertaken under the auspices of the Eden Foundation and financed by the foundation.’
Not everyone read the Eden Star. Those who did, soon informed those who didn’t and by lunchtime of the same day there was hardly a soul in Eden who was unaware of the survey. The notice contained an address, a shop front in High Street, where those willing to participate could lodge their interest. By 2pm that afternoon, the queue snaked around the block. By 6pm the queue was no shorter, and it wasn’t until 9pm that the doors were able to be closed. By then, ninety percent of those eligible, one had to sixteen years or older, had registered. Each registrant was required to give their initials only, not a full name, date of birth, and a contact telephone number. In return, they received a card with a number on it and also a telephone number should they wish to make contact themselves.
The shop had been leased by Robert. It had in the past been a men’s wear store and some of the shop fittings remained. It was a very large store with even a larger stock area behind. The shop had been freshly painted and carpeted. New L.E.D lights had been fitted and the store and the rear storeroom had been partitioned in to a total of fifteen offices, each equipped with a desk, office chair and two visitor chairs. The partitions were sound proofed, as were the doors that were fitted to each office.
Two days after the registration, the offices were populated by the 15 psychologists who would run the survey. There were three secretaries in another office at the front to coordinate and direct people, and in each office, eager professionals, all newly qualified, all keen to earn some money before they settle in a more permanent job. They were all armed with iPads. Not a pencil or piece of paper in sight. Each were contracted for four weeks and each offered $5000, tax free. It would be a long time into their careers before they would be earning money at that rate again.
There were one thousand three hundred and fifty seven people who had registered and were eligible to be surveyed. At half an hour per survey and allowing for a few minutes for change over, the fifteen psychologists working an eight hour day, with half an hour for lunch could survey two hundred people. Allowing for delays and the odd glitch, it would take no more than two weeks to complete the survey, leaving another two weeks for the results to be collated.
Over the next week, appointments were made by the three secretaries, and then all was ready.
It ran like clockwork. Each half hour, fifteen people would arrive, one of the secretaries would allocate each a room and the psychologist would administer the survey, recording the responses on their iPads.
An Armguard van had come up from Melbourne with the money and with two armed guards. At the end of the half hour survey, each participant was handed an envelope containing ten $100 notes. The applicant would initial where marked, confirmed the receipt of the money and would be on their way.
The older ones headed straight to the Bendigo Bank branch, where queues quickly formed in front of the two tellers who had been prepared by the manager for the onslaught. The younger participants went nowhere near the bank, but took their money home and were already planning how to spend it. Don’s Café and Bakery was packed for lunch that day, and that night, The Red Lion did a roaring trade.
These scenes were repeated daily for the next two weeks, at the end of which everyone in the office was exhausted. All fifteen psychologists were give three days off before returning to collate the results and then email them to a central database, where the results were stored securely. By the end of the four weeks, all fifteen were mentally spent, but happy, especially after receiving the $5000 cheques that the senior of the three secretaries handed them. The secretary, her name was Eva Grey, paid the other two the sum that had been agreed on, and stayed on another five days to tie up all the loose ends. She locked the store cum office, dropped the keys off at the Victorian house and headed back to Melbourne.
Robert telephoned Martin to let him know that the survey had been completed and the results were safely stored away. The intention was not to look at the results until the project was complete. Martin thanked Robert and congratulated him on a job well done.
The town of Eden returned to normal after those few hectic weeks. The only deviation from the norm was extra spending that took place in the town as the younger folks ate, drank and purchased goods until their newly earned money had run out. Then everything returned completely to normal.
The TV and newspaper ads continued, although less frequently than before. The town’s mood remained upbeat. Martin and Arthur continued their morning run, and waited for whatever was going to happen next. Robert kept them informed but only in generalities. They had left the details up to Robert and his team.
After another week of calm, a second full page notice appeared in the Eden Star. This time it was on the front page. Anticipating the increased demand, five hundred extra copies of the paper had been printed and every copy had been sold by 10am that day.
The notice read, ‘Town Meeting.’ It gave the date as two weeks hence and the venue as Eden Football Oval. It further stated that the Shire Council was convening a meeting of all the residents of Eden. Its purpose was to discuss a proposal for the town of Eden that would affect all its residents. It did not elaborate on the nature of the proposal. The notice was signed by Mr. Alan Gibson, Mayor, and on the bottom of the page was printed, ‘Sponsored by the Eden Foundation: Moving Forward.’
There was plenty of talk around the town that day. The Shire office was inundated in with phone calls, all taken by an answering machine, which confirmed the date, time and venue of the meeting, but gave no other details.
Visitors to the Shire office, and there were quite a few of those, were met by two harassed clerks who informed them that they had no further information about the meeting, at least none they could reveal.
After two days the phone calls and visits stopped. The Mayor and Shire Councillors had kept a low profile. In fact, they would not have been able to answer any questions, as they also had no knowledge of what the meeting was about. All they knew was that someone who purported to represent the Eden Foundation had contacted the mayor two weeks earlier to inform him that a town meeting was to be called, and that the meeting should be held under the auspices of the Shire Council. Mayor Gibson knew as much about the Eden Foundation as everyone else, which was essentially nothing. He did, however know that it would be imprudent to refuse a request.
The meeting was scheduled for 2pm on Sunday afternoon, two weeks away and until then, the town of Eden, again, continued to function as normal.
In the five days leading up to the meeting, huge trucks began to appear in Eden, all heading for the oval where there was a hive of activity. The trucks had been carrying components of what turned out to be the largest marquee anyone in the town had ever seen. The marquee sat in the middle of the football oval. Its roof was made of clear plastic to let the light in. The grass of the oval was covered by a layer of artificial grass, rows upon row of seats were i
nstalled. There was a stage at the front and large speakers scattered around inside of the marquee. On either side of the marquee were long trestle tables stretching the whole length of the interior. On the Friday, two days before the meeting was to be held, all was ready.
Adjoining the marquee was a small caravan, which housed two security guards whose job was to keep anyone from entering the marquee, and prevent theft and vandalism. On late Friday afternoon, Gill and Roger were seen driving around the marquee in a patrol car. They waved to the security guards who waved back. The venue was secure and ready.
It was 1pm, an hour before the meeting was due to start and almost all the seats were already taken. A few people were still filing in. There were ushers at the door helping people to their seats. Those with young children were encouraged to sit in the aisles in case they had to take the children out. The ushers also ensured that no seats were left vacant. It looked as if the whole town had turned out and every seat would be needed.
The stage was empty. The officials had not yet arrived. There was big table on the stage with eight chairs behind it and a microphone in the centre of the table. Microphones on vertical stands were located in the aisles, presumably for any questions that the audience might have.
There was a low hum in the room, hundreds of voices intermingled and unintelligible. An occasional child’s voice could be heard above the hum. No crying thankfully, no one had brought a baby. Martin and Arthur were seated near the front, just two interested residents of Eden. Natalie said she couldn’t be bothered coming and would be busy washing her hair. She was sure that Martin and Arthur would fill her in on the details. In any case, she already knew what the meeting was about, as did Martin and Arthur who had planned the whole thing in the first place.
At 1:45pm people began to file onto the stage. The Mayor was first followed by the members of the Shire Council, all six. There were eight chairs behind the table so that there was one more person to come. At precisely 1:55pm that person made his way onto the stage and took the only seat left at the centre of the table, and in front of the microphone. It was Robert Mackie, wearing a dark blue suit, pale blue shirt and a red tie. He had a black folder on the table in front of him. Robert stood up as Mayor Gibson approached him. They shook hands. Robert introduced himself to the Mayor as the person who had spoken to him the phone, some weeks earlier on behalf of the Eden Foundation. He asked the Mayor to open proceedings, as this was an official meeting of the Shire Council. The Mayor agreed and would then introduce Robert to address the crowd. All this was said in an undertone, away from the microphone. No one in the audience could hear, not even the Councillors sitting at the table.
It was 2pm. Mayor Gibson stood next to Robert at the table, between Robert and the Councillors on his left. He lowered the microphone down to the level of his mouth, tapped it twice to make sure it was on and commenced.
‘Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, residents of Eden. We are about to begin. For the record, this is a dully constituted meeting of the Shire Council of the town of Eden. All council members are in attendance. I, Alan Gibson, Mayor will chair the meeting. It is noted that almost all the inhabitants of the town of Eden are present. I will now hand over to our guest, Mr. Robert Mackie, who will address you.’
Robert stood up and adjusted the height of the microphone. He was considerably taller than the Mayor.
‘Thank you Mr. Mayor,’ he began. ‘As Mayor Gibson said, my name is Robert Mackie. I’m a lawyer from Melbourne. I’m here representing the Eden Foundation. I would like to make it clear that I have no role in the foundation and I am acting on its behalf as its legal representative.’
There was complete silence in the marquee. Everyone was waiting to hear, finally, what this was all about.
Robert continued. ‘By now, I imagine everyone in Eden is aware of the Eden Foundation. You must be wondering, what is this foundation? Where does it come from, and what does it want to do? Let me explain. The foundation has been set up with a sole purpose of advancing the town of Eden. Who is the Eden Foundation? That, I cannot tell you. Suffice it to say, that the benefactor, who, for at least for now wants to remain anonymous has set up the foundation. This benefactor has close ties to the town of Eden, and like you, realized that the town had been stagnating with an uncertain future. He wants to see the town thrive and you all prosper.’
Robert stopped for a moment, leaned forwards and picked up the glass of water in front of his chair and took a sip of the water. He then continued.
‘This benefactor has had the good fortune to come into some money. Shall we say, a large amount of money. More than he would ever need and his wish is to use some of that money to advance this town.’ Another pause. ‘Some of you would be aware that the Eden Foundation has made extensive purchases of property in Eden. It is unlikely that you are fully aware of the total extent of those purchases, and I would therefore like to inform you. Today, the Eden Foundation owns Eden Valley that is common knowledge. It also owns the TV and radio stations and the newspaper. That is something that until now has been kept confidential. The Foundation also owns all the other smaller businesses in the town. In fact, it is safe to say that the Eden Foundation owns all of the commercial assets of Eden.’
There was a murmuring in the crowd, which until now had been completely silent. Robert stopped speaking. Clearly a lot of this information was new to most people. The murmuring consisted of people asking each other, ‘did you know about all this?’ Robert could sense a degree of unease in the audience.
‘Let me reassure you. The ownership by the Foundation of the town’s business assets has no sinister motive. You may not be aware that Eden Valley had been quiet on the market for some time, and foreign owners were circling. And you know what that would have meant. Yes, jobs going off shore. This will not now happen. While it is true, that in affect almost the whole workforce is employed by the Eden Foundation, all your jobs are secure now and into the future. And as you’ve no doubt read the Eden Star, Eden Valley is looking to expand and take on more workers. Also, the Foundation is looking at a number of tourism projects, including reopening the old gold mine to attract tourists. A boutique hotel is also being planned to provide upscale accommodation. So, as you can see, Eden’s prospects are bright and as the slogan says, ‘The Eden Foundation: Moving Forward.’
Robert picked up the glass again, and this time taking several sips of water. He had been speaking almost nonstop for fifteen minutes. There were a few drops of sweat on his brow. It was a warm afternoon and he was in a woollen suit.
‘I’m sorry if I’ve been a little long winded,’ he said, ‘but I wanted to bring everyone as up to date as possible with the recent events. But that is only part of the purpose of this meeting.’
Murmuring in the crowd again. Robert thought he could hear, ‘here it comes,’ somewhere from the front of the audience.
‘The other purpose of this meeting is to ask you, the people of Eden, to do something for the Foundation in return.’
The murmuring grew louder but stopped immediately. Robert started talking again.
‘Some of you have been very generous with your time answering the telephone survey that we have been conducting. And almost all of you have participated in the face-to-face survey, which was recently completed, and for that the Foundation is grateful. You will acknowledge, I hope, that the Foundation has been generous to you and you have all been well compensated for taking part.’
Robert could see smiles on some faces and many heads nodding in agreement.
‘What the Foundation is now asking from you is to be involved in a project. A social experiment, if you will. This will involve little effort on you part, possibly some minor inconvenience. It will take twelve months, but the Foundation feels that the results it expects will make the effort worthwhile. And, at the end of the twelve months, the Foundation will compensate all of you that are involved. I’m not at liberty to discuss the compensation, but bear in mind, the level of
compensation you receive for just half an hour of your time.’
This time the noise level was well above the murmuring level and did not die down until Robert tapped his glass a few times with his pen and silence again returned.
‘I’m a lawyer. I’m not able to properly explain this social experiment to you. And to do that, I call on Professor Fiona Malcolm, Head of the Department of Psychology at La Trobe University. Please make her welcome.’
From somewhere behind the stage a woman appeared to rather muted applause. She looked to be in her fifties. She was tall, almost six foot, in the old measurements, short blonde hair, and wearing a female equivalent of a man’s business suit. Robert moved his chair a little to his left to allow the Professor close to the microphone. She did not need to change the height of the microphone. The little applause that there had been now stopped.
‘Thank you, Robert,’ she began. ‘It is my role to explain to you what Robert calls this social experiment is all about, and I will take questions once I finish.’
You could hear a pin drop and then a child’s voice, ‘Mummy, I need toilet,’ followed by the embarrassed exit of a young woman with her son, who looked about six or seven years old.
‘Let me give you some background first. You would all be aware of the long standing controversy of what effect violence and movies and TV shows has on the people watching it. There is a school of thought that extreme violence, of the type we see in movies today has harmful effects and could lead to violent acts to be perpetrated by people so predisposed. The opposite opinion is that most people can differentiate between reality and screen violence, and that such violence really has no significant impact on people’s behaviour. The jury is still out. But let’s extend that to the real world, not the fictional. As you know, we are now living in the so called, 24/7 news cycle. News is instant, ever accessible anywhere, anytime. If an earthquake occurs ten thousand kilometres away, you will be able to read about it and see the pictures in less than an hour. This is a relatively new phenomenon. And it’s not just earthquakes. It is murder, rapes, abductions, and bombings. Whatever one person or a group of people inflict on another person or group, you will know about it, wherever it occurs, almost instantly. The question we ask is, is this a good thing or possibly a bad thing? Have you, the people, asked for this news to be so available to you, every minute of every day and at night? Or has this been foisted on you by the ever increasing number of media outlets and news sources. And, is it doing you harm? And if you were not exposed to all this mayhem, would your life be for the better or the worse?
The Eden Effect Page 8