An interminable procession of ads was running, interrupted now and then with teasers for the news items to follow. The teaser for the lead story featured a photograph of a boy and girl all dressed up, perhaps for a school dance. The boy seemed awkward, as if uncomfortable in the formal suit he was wearing. The girl had a sweet, heart-shaped face. The voice-over intoned, ‘A modern Romeo and Juliet death pact? Chilling details in a moment.’
‘They’re supposed to live locally,’ Thelma said. ‘Do you recognise either of them, dear?’
‘No, I don’t think so.’
Rick tried to imagine what it would be like to take a fatal dose of pills. You’d go to sleep and then … nothing. You’d simply never wake up. Or perhaps the stories of near-death experiences were true. Maybe there was a glowing tunnel of light and at the end people who had gone before would be waiting to welcome you to heaven. He’d see his parents again, and his sister Ellen.
Once he’d asked his grandfather whether he believed in heaven and hell. Les had laughed. ‘Safer to, don’t you think?’ Then he’d become serious. ‘Live the best life you possibly can here and now, Rick. If there’s a heaven and a hell, you’ll find out soon enough.’
Rick’s throat tightened as he thought of his grandfather, lying helpless in his hospital bed, hovering in limbo between life and death.
‘Rick, are you all right?’
‘I’m fine.’
On the screen the ads had finally ended. An extremely thin woman with a cascade of pale blonde hair was saying in dramatic tones, ‘People are already calling this a modern Romeo and Juliet tragedy. Barry Lyons and Ruth Byrne lie near death in their hospital beds, surrounded by their grieving families, who are asking why? Why did this happen? What drove these teens to enter a deadly suicide pact, and consume handfuls of sleeping pills, when their whole lives lay before them? And most disturbing of all, what major, household-name company may share the blame?’
The blonde woman abruptly broke into a toothy smile. ‘The astonishing answer to those questions after these important messages from our valued sponsors.’
The parade of ads began again. Rick slumped further down in his chair and shoved his hands in his pockets. He became aware that his grandmother was looking at him intently. ‘What?’
‘Dear, I know you’re a bit low because you’ve been cut off from all that texting and talking with your friends you’re used to doing all the time. Watching this sad story can’t be helping.’
‘I’m okay.’
‘What with Les and all, you have every reason to feel blue, but things will be better soon. This morning at the hospital, I’m sure Les moved his fingers when I was holding his hand. That’s a good sign, isn’t it?’
Making an effort to sound upbeat, Rick said, ‘That’s great. Maybe he’s starting to wake up.’
On the screen, the blonde woman was back. ‘For those viewers who have just joined us, we’re examining the horror of teen suicide – or in this case, thankfully, a so-far failed suicide pact.’ She went on to repeat almost word-for-word the information she’d given before.
‘I wonder what big company’s involved,’ Thelma said.
The blonde woman obligingly answered the question, as an image of Farront International’s head office appeared behind her. ‘The young people’s distressed parents blame Farront International, the largest of the Big Three communication companies, for Ruth and Barry’s desperate act.’
She paused to allow a huge image of an iZod to appear on the screen. ‘Both young people used Farront’s communicator, the very popular iZod. Abruptly and inexplicably, both Ruth and Barry became disconnects. Ruth’s father, in an exclusive interview to follow this news report, will be telling you how his daughter, driven into a deep depression by her isolation from all she held dear, begged Farront for reconnection.’
The blonde woman paused to shake her head sorrowfully. ‘Amazingly, Ruth’s heartbroken pleas fell on deaf ears. It’s alleged that Farront did nothing to help this distraught young woman and the boy she loved reconnect to the world she could not do without.’
‘Off!’ commanded Thelma. The screen obediently went blank.
‘Why did you turn it off?’
Her expression troubled, Thelma said, ‘I don’t want you watching something like that.’
‘Because it’s about disconnects who tried to kill themselves? Are you thinking I might do the same thing? No way!’
Still concerned, Thelma said, ‘Rick, I want you to promise me that if you feel it’s all getting too much for you, you’ll tell me.’
He was saved from answering by the landline phone’s harsh ring. Compared to his sleek comm, Rick thought the bulky instrument was ugly and awkward to use, but his grandparents insisted on keeping it.
As she always did, Thelma answered the phone with, ‘Hello? This is Thelma Lawrence speaking.’ She listened, then said, ‘Hold on, dear. I’ll put him on.’ She handed Rick the clumsy receiver. ‘It’s Allyx calling again. She’s a lovely young woman.’
Allyx had called earlier to say that she and the rest of the Five would be seeing Rick the next day, if that was okay. Delighted to hear his friends were coming around, Thelma had offered to provide lunch.
Rick made a big effort to sound in good spirits. ‘Allyx? Hi. Hope you’re not calling me to say there’s a change in plans for tomorrow.’
‘No change. It’s something else. Have you heard about those kids?’
‘We were just watching it on TV.’
‘You’re totally not going to believe this, but …’
When he hung up, he repeated what Allyx had told him. ‘… and right now Dr Renfrew is making a video at Tal’s place that’s going to be shown everywhere the moment it’s finished.’
‘Damage control,’ said Thelma. ‘No one goes to that much trouble unless the stakes are very high. Farront International must have a lot to lose.’
She grinned at Rick’s surprised expression. ‘I’m not entirely out of it, dear. I do know what goes in the world.’
Less than two hours later, Dr Carter Renfrew was gazing earnestly from the television screen. He was seated at a desk Rick recognised as the one in Tal’s mother’s study. His hands were clasped on the bare surface in front of him. He wore a dark suit, cream shirt and subdued tie.
‘My name is Dr Carter Renfrew. I speak to you today as a man who has devoted his life to the study of teen psychology. My book, Brains in Flux: Evolution and the Teen Mind, is a bestseller and available in many formats to suit individual needs. There’s even a paper edition for the more traditional reader.’
Rick’s grandmother chuckled. ‘Bless the man! He never misses a chance to promote himself.’
‘You’ve seen Dr Renfrew before?’
‘I watch a lot of TV. It’s hardly an exaggeration to say Dr Renfrew is on one program or another most days, busily pushing his theories and his latest book. And I imagine he’s all over the internet, too.’
Renfrew’s television image leaned forward, deeply serious. ‘I speak with you today on behalf of Farront International. Audrey Farront herself has asked me to express her personal shock and sorrow that two disturbed young people, who were part of Farront’s worldwide family of iZod users, made the appalling decision that suicide was an answer to their problems.’
‘Allyx said that at the barbecue Dr Renfrew asked her and Tal to be part of his new research project, but she isn’t all that keen and neither is Tal,’ Rick said.
‘What would it involve?’
Rick shrugged. ‘Something to do with looking at how your brain works.’
‘Didn’t you mention you were thinking of volunteering yourself when Dr Renfrew speaks at your school next week?’
‘Yeah, but I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want anyone poking around inside my head.’
On the screen Renfrew’s image had assumed a stern expression. ‘Because rumours and misstatements about Farront International are widely circulating, it is imperative that I set the record straigh
t. Ruth Byrne and Barry Lyons were understandably upset when they suddenly became disconnects – that certainly is true. What is not true is the claim that Farront International was unresponsive when these two young people asked for help. Farront technicians did everything possible to reconnect them, but they ultimately came to the conclusion that the fault lay in the huge government databanks of Commdat. At this point in time, Commdat has not responded adequately to Farront’s queries made on Ruth and Barry’s behalf.’
He sat back in the chair and refolded his hands. ‘Perhaps you have heard that Ruth and Barry had applied to be part of the latest Carter Renfrew research project, generously funded by Farront International as one of the company’s many contributions to the community. The truth of the matter is that, although they had indeed put their names down to be part of the study, their applications were at a preliminary stage. Unhappily, parental permissions had not yet been provided, which meant that neither I nor my trained staff had yet carried out the complimentary psychological assessment that all participants are given when their applications are accepted. The pity is that perhaps this near-tragedy could have been averted had Ruth and Barry obtained the required permissions from their families.’
Renfrew shook his head sorrowfully. ‘For some young people, adolescence is a time of overwhelming, tumultuous emotions and wild mood swings. A small number, temporarily unbalanced, contemplate taking their own lives. We must find ways to help them long before the situation escalates to this point.’
Now his expression changed to one of indignation. ‘In my professional opinion, whole areas of adolescent psychology, most particularly the developmental stages of the young brain, have been shamefully neglected by the scientific community. Apart from my own work, and that of my colleague, Dr Howard Unwin, there are few in-depth studies of any quality being carried out. This is a disgraceful situation when the need is so great.’
He waited for a moment for this to sink in, then continued. ‘It is therefore with the greatest of pleasure that I draw your attention to the two valuable initiatives that Farront International has taken in the area of youth psychology. First, as I mentioned previously, is the financial support for my research into the teen mind. Second is the establishment of the Farront Clinics, dedicated to the mental and emotional health of young people, specifically those having difficulty coping with their reactions to life-changing events, such as disconnection.’
A warm smile lit up his face. ‘I’m delighted, both personally and professionally, to be entrusted with the role of director for the first of the Farront Clinics to open. My co-director is Dr Howard Unwin, who has made groundbreaking studies into CWSS – communication withdrawal stress syndrome. These vital studies examine the reactions of teens to the pressures and demands of their rapidly changing world.’
He inclined his head gravely. ‘Both I and Farront International thank you for your time.’
An advertisement for the latest iZod filled the screen.
Thelma said, ‘That stress syndrome Dr Renfrew mentioned could be what you’ve been going through since you were disconnected.’
‘I guess,’ Rick said offhandedly.
She gave an exasperated sigh. ‘I try to understand, Rick, but it’s hard for me. You and your friends are in touch with each other in ways I never experienced growing up. Your world’s so filled with electronic chatter that it must be strange when you’re not part of it anymore.’
‘Do you want to know how I really feel?’
‘Yes dear, of course I do.’
Rick said with perfect truth, ‘Now that I’m disconnected, I feel like I don’t exist.’
ELEVEN
Rosa always had Sundays off, so it was usually the one day Petra and her parents breakfasted together, spending time chatting about the week’s activities face-to-face. This Sunday, however, Petra’s father had been called to Garden Stuff because a fire sprinkler malfunction had flooded the main display area. Her mother normally would have gone too, but today she stayed at home, determined to track down whoever it was who’d initiated the cyber attack on her daughter.
On Thursday, when Petra had first experienced the sickening impact of the vicious anonymous messages, she had been all for revenge. But once she’d cooled down, Petra had decided it was wiser to let the whole thing fade away. Responding with rage would just encourage more unwelcome attention.
Her mother was, as always, immaculately dressed and groomed. This morning a tailored cream jumpsuit showed off her trim figure. Glaring into her notebook screen, she muttered, ‘There’s got to be some way to trace these disgusting messages back to the original senders.’
‘Mum, you’re not a detective. Besides, it doesn’t matter who’s behind it, there’s nothing you can do about it.’
That got an irritated frown. ‘I don’t like to see such a negative attitude, Petra. You won’t get far in this world if you let people get away with this kind of behaviour.’
‘But you’ll just make it worse. In a few days, it’ll be someone else’s turn, and they’ll forget me.’
Ignoring this, Petra’s mother announced, ‘If I find I’m getting nowhere, I’m prepared to hire an expert in cyber bullying to uncover the culprit.’ She added with satisfaction, ‘Since both text and voice have been used to attack you, when we sue, it’ll be for defamation and slander.’
‘Mum!’
‘What? You don’t think legal action is justified? I most certainly do, and your father agrees. We can’t allow the Koslowsky name to be dragged through the mud.’
Petra felt the familiar frustration welling up. It happened every time she argued with either of her parents. She knew they loved her and wished only the best for her, and they were always willing to talk about issues. The problem was, it always seemed to be what her parents wanted that prevailed. She’d often wondered if having a brother or sister would have taken some of the attention off her and made life easier.
‘It’s always “my way or the highway” with you two, isn’t it?’ she’d once said bitterly, when she’d been overruled on something she felt deeply about.
They’d both stared at her, rather hurt. Her father in particular took it to heart. ‘Petra, how could you say that? We discuss everything with you and we come to a family decision.’
It was probably a waste of time to try to persuade her mother to stop playing detective, but Petra tried again. ‘This sort of thing happens to people every day. It’s no big deal.’
‘It is a big deal when it involves my daughter.’ She peered at the screen and tapped away for a few moments, then sat back with an irritated sigh. ‘You mentioned it could be Maryann Dodd.’
‘It probably is,’ said Petra. ‘She’s nasty enough, but also smart enough not to get caught.’
‘You know, I’ve never liked her mother Lois. Acts as though she’s better than anyone else. And that charity she chairs for underprivileged children? It might as well have Hitler at the helm. The woman’s a control freak.’
She’s not the only one. ‘Mum, if you turn up sure-fire proof it’s Maryann, that’s great. But otherwise please don’t pick a fight.’
‘That reminds me, Principal Constanza didn’t return my call on Friday. One would think he’d show more concern about the bullying going on at his school, especially as he was a target himself earlier this year. Clearly your father and I are going to have to schedule time away from Stuff to meet with him in person.’
It was hopeless. Petra checked the time. ‘I’ve got to go. I told you yesterday, we’re having lunch at Rick’s to cheer him up.’
‘How’s Rick handling being a disconnect? He’s always struck me as a sensitive boy.’
‘Not too well,’ said Petra, immediately sorry she’d not given some vague answer. Now her mother would want to know all the details on how and why Rick wasn’t coping.
On cue, the questions came. ‘What do you mean by not coping too well? Mind you, with his background I’d expect him to respond with some level of depression. He’s
not suicidal, is he?’
Petra said, ‘No, of course not,’ but she had the uneasy feeling that the longer he was cut off, the deeper his depression would become.
Her mother went on. ‘That reminds me – did you know that Ruth Byrne’s a student at Hawthorne High? I wondered if you’d run across her in some inter-school competition.’
Petra shook her head. ‘I don’t recognise the name.’
‘It can’t help Rick’s state of mind that this death pact couple were disconnects, although I’m guessing it was their families’ opposition to their budding romance that really put them over the edge.’
‘See?’ said Petra, only half-joking, ‘Family interference in kids’ lives can be fatal.’
Her mother seemed amused by Petra’s meaningful tone, but made no comment. ‘You’ll be interested to know that overnight, just like magic, Ruth and Barry were reconnected.’ With a cynical smile, she added, ‘Farront and Commdat are both claiming credit, though they’re very vague about details. Expert opinion is that neither one has any idea how or why the reconnections occurred.’
Even though her mother didn’t have anything like the electronic network Petra was part of every day, Petra wasn’t surprised she was so up-to-date. While her father concentrated solely on web content to do with their business, her mother was a serious news junkie who had Nuse2U delivering a constant stream of customised local, national and international stories. Because of Petra, one of the areas of interest she’d subscribed to was adolescent behaviour.
Her mother gave her a keen look. ‘You’ve seen the kids’ suicide note?’
‘Of course. It’s everywhere.’
‘And what did you think, Petra, when you read it?’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
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