The Eden Effect

by David Finchley

  ‘The answers to these questions are not known. This is where our social experiment comes in.’

  Again, murmuring, but this time quite soft and very brief. She had the audience hooked. She could tell the by the faces of those close to the front that her words had struck a chord. There had been a few nods of agreement while she had been speaking.

  ‘What is proposed is that for twelve months, the news you will receive will be restricted. Some may prefer the term censored, but I prefer restricted. All news relevant to Eden, to the state of Victoria and the country of Australia will continue as before. But, if a young boy is abducted in the state of Georgia in the United States, and is then found dead, hacked to pieces, you won’t know. That will not be broadcast in any form here in Eden. As the same goes for the suicide bombers who blow up schools in Pakistan, or a gunman who massacres a church congregation in Nigeria. Some of you will protest, we have a right to know, you will say. And I do not disagree. But does the right to know override any harm that the knowledge may be doing to you? And quite frankly, what purpose is served by you knowing about a murder of a poor little boy many thousands miles away? I suggest no purpose. Yes, you feel terrible, but your life is not impacted in anyway. So, that is the project. We have estimated that twelve months is required to look for any effect on you, good or bad. After twelve months, the survey that you would have just completed will be repeated and the results compared. We hope to publish the results in a prominent international journal.’

  Another chair had been brought to the table next to Robert. The Councillors had all moved up a little and Professor Malcolm sat down.

  Robert stood up. ‘Professor Malcolm has said that she is happy to answer questions. You will see microphones in the aisles. Please ask your question at the microphone, and please identify yourself.’

  Within seconds, each of the six microphones had queues of three or four people standing behind it. But before any questions could be asked, Robert continued.

  ‘I would like to anticipate one question, which I’ll answer in advance. Your participation in this venture is purely voluntary. I repeat, purely voluntary. You should not feel any pressure to participate.’

  At least six prospective questioners returned to their seats, their questions had already been answered.

  ‘I’ve three more things to add and then please ask your questions. You will recall from my opening remarks that the Eden Foundation now owns the TV, and radio and newspaper in Eden. The Foundation therefore has full editorial control and will restrict the news along the lines of Professor Malcolm has stated on TV, on radio and in print. I know that some of you have pay TV. Thirty seven percent of you, to be exact. The Foundation does not own or have any financial interest in the pay TV providers, but has come to an arrangement with the providers so that the news on the pay TV channels will be similarly restricted. Thirdly, the internet. This is a new major source of news. The Foundation has arranged with the three major internet providers for Internet filters to be installed at the service providers, blocking access to any news sites, anywhere.’

  There was now a huge din in the marquee. Voices were raised, people were standing up, shouting, fists were being waved in the air. Robert continued to stand at the microphone for a full five minutes until it all died down. By then all the remaining questioners had returned to their seats. What else was there to ask?

  ‘I can see and hear that all of you are not happy,’ Robert said. There were a few more shouts.

  ‘I know that this appears as a radical idea, and an infringement of your right and freedom of choice. Once you have calmed down, please reflect on what we are asking. You will see that there will be almost no negative impact on your life. In practical terms, nothing will change, and you never know, after twelve months you may be thanking us for putting you through this.’

  Robert sat down. There was no applause. There were blanks looks on the faces of the Mayor and Councillors as people began to file out, heatedly talking among themselves.

  Robert and Professor Malcolm left together by a rear entrance and within twenty minutes the only people left in the marquee were the security guards.

  I thought that went well,’ said Arthur.

  ‘Are you serious?’ Martin replied. ‘Were you at the same meeting as me? People were furious. Didn’t you hear them? I thought they were going to storm the stage at one point.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Martin, they will get over it.’

  The three of them were sitting down in the lounge. Natalie had joined them having finished washing her hair. Arthur and Martin had filled her in on the details of the meeting.

  ‘I agree with Arthur, Martin,’ Natalie said. ‘Once people give it some more thought they will realise that it is not really a big ask. No one’s life will be any worse off. In fact, they will be better off. You don’t think that right now they are working out that if half an hour of their time were worth $1000, what a year would be worth? Don’t worry, Martin, they will come around.’

  Arthur added, ‘if you noticed Martin, it was only a small minority protesting. Most people had no reaction. I agree with Natalie, people are doing some mental arithmetic right now. And don’t forget, that all have heard the point that basically everyone works for the Eden Foundation, and the foundation wants us to happen. Some not so subtle pressure.’

  ‘I hope you are both right,’ said Martin. ‘If people have to do this against their will then I doubt we will get a meaningful result. I just hope you are right.’ Martin sounded a bit despondent.

  ‘Come on, Martin, drink up.’ That was Natalie, whose contribution was a bottle of Ardbeg Galileo, single malt, for her and for Arthur, and for Martin a six year old Heathcote Shiraz. She poured out three glasses, two scotch and one red, and passed two to Martin and Arthur.

  ‘Drink up. We should celebrate. Look how far we have come.’

  Martin and Arthur both noticed the ‘we’. Natalie already felt part of the project, which pleased them both. They raised their glasses, clicked them together, and with a ‘cheers’, drank. After another two more glasses the mood had become brighter and Martin had cheered up considerably. They decided they should go the Red Lion for dinner. The alcohol had made them hungry and they wanted to test the mood of the locals, and where better to do that than at the pub.

  The Red Lion was busy. The bar was full and they just managed to get a table in the bistro. The place was loud, voices were raised, but looking around everyone seemed quite jovial. No anger anywhere. Martin looked relieved and the three of them proceeded to have a nice dinner accompanied by another Heathcote Shiraz.

  Arthur was right. They did get on with it, most of them. Over the next month five families moved out of Eden. All the others completed the enrolment forms that were sent to them agreeing to participate in the project. One form was sent to each household. No murmurings of discontent were heard in the pub, or on the street or anywhere else. Life in the town of Eden went on as normal. It took another month for all the technical arrangements to be completed and for the restricted news services to commence. It went without a hitch. If anyone in the town noticed a difference, no one said so. All around the world terrible things kept happening to people. Not as far as the residents of Eden knew, however. They were blissfully unaware and seemingly none the worse for it.

  Life did go on as normal, but two significant changes did occur. Martin and Natalie got married, and Arthur fell in love.

  One Wednesday evening, Martin, Natalie and Arthur, and Gill and Roger were all having a drink as they often did. It was Arthur who first noticed the wedding ring on the third finger of Natalie’s left hand. At first he didn’t think anything of it. He would never have noticed what jewellery, or if any, Natalie wore. But it took a few seconds to him to realise the significance of what he saw. Natalie had just casually put her left hand on the table in front of her. Arthur was about to say something when Gill screamed out, ‘Oh my God! You’re married!’ Earlier that afternoon, Martin and Natalie presented the
mselves to Mayor Gibson, who was also a justice of the peace and authorised by the Commonwealth of Australia to perform marriages, which he did for Martin and Natalie in his office, with two of his staff as witnesses.

  There were congratulations all around at their table and a few ‘well done’s from well-wishers at nearby tables who had overheard what was going on. Out of nowhere a bottle of Dom Perignon and five champagne flutes appeared and they toasted to the newlywed couple. Natalie was beaming. Martin was obviously very happy too, but a shy smile was all he could manage.

  Arthur’s falling in love was a little more complicated than that. Eden was very much a self-contained town, but at regular intervals its inhabitants would travel to Melbourne for pleasure or business and also to the bigger country towns nearby. On one of those trips, someone said something to someone, and before long one of the current affairs programs in Melbourne heard of the goings on in Eden and dispatched film crew and one of their reporters to get the story.

  The reporter, a tall, pretty blond, named Corinne Pearson, managed to interview the Mayor who was more than happy to get his face on TV. She interviewed a few locals on High Street. The crew arrived at 9am and by 12pm had enough material to edit to a five minutes story that would appear on Channel Seven that night or the next. The reporter, Corinne, headed back to Melbourne and the crew was preparing to follow.

  This was a Thursday and on Thursdays Arthur would lunch as Don’s, usually alone. The food there continued to surprise him. He was sitting at a table for two at the window contemplating the menu, which changed weekly. He didn’t know why he bothered. He always ordered salad Nicoise, anyway. Arthur had his face down reading the menu when at the top of his vision he saw two hands leaning on a table, bright red nail polish and a red ruby ring on the right hand. As he looked up he heard, ‘do you mind if I join you? The place is full and I’m starving.’

  The words came out of mouth from a young woman, probably in her mid-thirties. She had her hair down, shiny black. Arthur noticed hazel eyes and bright red lipstick matching the nail polish.

  ‘Yes, of course, please sit down,’ Arthur stammered, making an attempt to stand up as the woman took her seat opposite him.

  ‘I see you have the menu,’ she said. ‘Anything you recommend?’

  ‘Here, have a look,’ Arthur replied, handing her the menu. ‘I’ve already decided.’

  ‘What are you having?’

  ‘The salad Nicoise,’ he said. ‘It’s very good here, I’ve had it before.’

  ‘Then I’ll have it too,’ the woman said, putting down the menu without looking at it.

  ‘How rude of me. I’ve barged in on your lunch and I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Tracey Turnbull. I’m with the Channel Seven crew. We’ve just done some interviews in town. I’m the director’s assistant. Drove up this morning, no breakfast.’

  ‘Arthur, Arthur Fromm. I’m the, err, I am an accountant. I’m originally from Melbourne, but I live here now.’

  ‘Nice to meet you, Arthur,’ Tracey said cheerfully. Arthur could not help starring at her face. She was gorgeous. He tried not to make it too obvious, but could stop himself from looking.

  ‘Nice to meet you too, Tracey,’ was his lame reply. He was starting to think what to say next, but was saved by Jenny the waitress who came to take their orders.

  ‘Two salad Nicoise, Jenny. I’ll have a long black, and what about you, Tracey?’

  ‘A sparking mineral water for me.’

  Jenny noted down the order and left, giving Arthur a quizzical glance. There was an awkward silence broken by Tracey, who seemed to have no difficulty at all making conversation.

  ‘What do you think about this project, Arthur, the social experiment, as the Mayor called it?’

  ‘I don’t have much of an opinion on it. I’m not a big news watcher. Won’t really affect me.’

  Arthur realised that his reply made him seem a bit moronic, so he added, ‘but the premise behind it is very interesting and the results could well have a profound impact.’

  He recalled one of the psychologists who he had met using those words and repeated them in the hope of impressing Tracey and overriding his initial, pathetic reply.

  ‘Yes, fascinating stuff,’ was Tracey’s response. ‘A quaint town you’ve got here. Love some of the old buildings on High Street. I have to admit, I never heard of Eden before this assignment.’

  ‘Not many people have. We’re not on the tourist map and we get few visitors. We do have Eden Valley. You must have heard of that.’

  ‘I’m not big into processed meats,’ was Tracey’s reply. ‘But yes, I’ve heard of Eden Valley. Didn’t know it was in Eden, though.’

  Their lunch arrived. Tracey was obviously very hungry. She ate with gusto, pausing just briefly enough to compliment the salad Nicoise. Arthur ate more slowly. He couldn’t help himself. He kept glancing up at Tracey. She was busy devouring her salad and did not seem to notice. She was beautiful. Arthur felt a stirring that he had not felt for a long time. What a pleasant surprise, you thought. Lunch with a beautiful, young woman.

  ‘You seem to be enjoying your lunch,’ was all that he could think of saying.

  ‘Yes, I am. Thanks for the recommendation. I’ll definitely come back here if I’m ever in town again.’

  ‘If you are, please look me up.’ Arthur was not sure why he said that. Tracey did not respond. She kept eating.

  They had finished eating. Arthur was about to take the last sip of his coffee when Tracey suddenly stood up.

  ‘Got to fly, Arthur. It’s been fun. I’ll take care of the bill. I’m the one that gate crashed your lunch, so I’ll pay. It’s on my expense account, anyway.’

  Before Arthur could say anything, he still had the cup of coffee to his mouth,Tracey turned, strode to the counter where she paid and left.

  Arthur put his cup down. He did not get around to finishing his coffee. He looked around but no one was looking in his direction, which was a relief. What a bizarre experience, you thought. He could still picture her face, that black hair and those eyes. He was aware of the sensation that had been absent from his life for a long time. He realised that he had been attracted to Tracey in a way which somewhat unsettled him. And now she was gone. He knew that she had given him her surname, but he was struggling to recall it. She worked for channel seven in Melbourne, he remembered that. What was he going to do? Contact the channel to ask for a Tracey, surname unknown? Don’t be an idiot, he said to himself. He pushed his chair back and was about to stand up and returned to the real world. Suddenly, there she was again, slightly breathless. She approached his table, walking quickly, slapped a note on the table and said, ‘call me,’ turned and left as quickly as she came.

  The note looked as if it had been hastily torn out of one of those Spirax note pads, one end frayed. It was blank. He turned it over and saw, scribbled in a blue pen was a mobile number. Nothing else.

  He picked up the note, folded it neatly and placed it into his trousers pocket. He stood up and calmly left the café, his heart pounding and his feet wanting to break into a sprint. As he went out the door he heard the voice of Jenny the waitress calling after him, ‘go Arthur!’

  There were three of them now living in the dairy. Natalie had moved in. She brought all her clothes, some of her furniture and all of her single malt whisky collection, some 80 bottles in all. She had brought with her an enormous glass cabinet, which housed all the bottles and which had considerably shrunken the available space in the lounge room. She set up a studio in what had been a storeroom at the back of the house, but Arthur had not seen her venture into it yet.

  Arthur got on very well with Natalie and she was clearly fond of him too. But Martin and Natalie were now married, husband and wife, and Arthur was beginning to feel like the third wheel. He had his own self-contained quarters and neither Martin nor Natalie ever said anything that made Arthur even in the least way feel uncomfortable. Somehow it did not feel right to Arthur anymore. Martin and Natali
e were a married couple. They deserve their privacy. Their own space.

  Arthur had begun to consider moving out. But it was not so simple. His job required him to be ready to leave at 5.30am, easy enough when you are living on site. If he moved out, it would have to be somewhere close enough for Martin to pick him up before they made their first delivery. And then there was the cost. Board was now free. He would have to rent and his wages would struggle to stretch that far. He may have described himself as an accountant to Tracey, but he was, in fact, just the assistant’s milkman, under the Centrelink work for the dole scheme, with a modest pay the scheme provided. There were no obvious solutions and Arthur stayed on and hoped that his presence there did not impact adversely on the newlyweds.

  While Arthur had anxieties about the domestic setup, neither Martin nor Natalie seem to have any. They appeared deliriously happy. Arthur even heard Martin singing or humming a song, something he had never done before. They ate out less often. Natalie was an excellent cook. She insisted that Arthur join them to every meal, which he did, although feeling awkward at invading their privacy. During one of their meals, Arthur opened up about his encounter with Tracey, whose surname, hard as he tried to remember it, would not come to him. Martin did not say anything, but Natalie was genuinely excited. ‘Have you called her yet, Arthur?’